Last night was not the best writing night. I had a long drive home and started it just the teensiest bit lost which clenched my hands a little tighter on the wheel. Clenched a lot of me, but I stayed right behind Ad and he led me to the interstate on-ramp; I knew my way home from there. Whew. I probably seem brave to you, a risk-taker even, but inside I'm writhing with uncertainty and expect to be exposed as a fraud at any minute.
Chogogo the natives call them; we know them as flamingos, those pink birds that eat upside down and whose knees bend like elbows. Flamingos are not calm birds, they are easily flustered. Their nesting areas have to be off-limits to everyone because even a little disturbance will cause them to abandon their eggs. Silly birds. Maybe they're, um, the short bus riders of the bird world. But whatever their shortcomings are in the social sense they sure are pretty. Their color comes from the brine shrimp that populate the salt pans where the flamingos eat. Does that mean if we could make brine shrimp other colors then flamingos would be other colors? I think they might. Does it mean that I'd turn color if I ate all beets or carrots? Maybe, but I don't think it's a good idea.
Off to get ready for work. Later, dudes.
--Barbara
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