Yesterday our secretary brought in the most delectable chocolate cake in the world and tells me about it, obligating me to consume two large pieces. In summer, it's as nothing to wolf that down while in winter there's a return to the zero-sum game.
"Walk-bys, we get walk-bys, we get lots and lots of walk-bys...." The move from office to cubical has occasioned shorter walls and since I'm in a main artery there is the constant deflection. But I say: "why have walls at all if they discourage someone 5'8'' but not six foot from invading your space?" Call it discrimination against short people, who surely have a right to distract you too. Someone should sue. I'm too tall else I would. I demand that someone call Esquires Berres or Scheske about this!
One guy recently walked by and asked me who the olden time figure in my cube was. Oh felix distractio! I told him the Cure de Ars because I couldn't remember "St. John Vianney" (or even the correct century he was a priest). Saying "Cure de Ars" must've sounded like saying "Homer Simpson" in response to a query about the weather: that is, completely non-sequitorial. He thought the picture was one of the American Founding Fathers.
Had lunch at an exotic restaurant as compared to the usual cafeteria, aka "Ted's" as in Ted Turner, a bison eatery. On the wall was mounted a bison head, a serious-looking animal of so much tusk and hair as to be a prime example of Godavagance (God + extravagance). I was cheered by the news that our local park is considering the re-introduction of bison. Now that's what I'm talking about! I hope someone will create a woolly mammoth from the DNA found on fossils such that we could re-introduce those dudes too. Talk about adding interest to a hike.
I've written about the park before in these virtual pages and how I especially like the little things, like how they left old barns up just off the path. It's clearly marked as not on park property, which, of course, doesn't mean we'll not explore these old weathering hulks. There's a tangy bit of history in these piquant relics of the past. I'm greatly cheered by the fact that our city hasn't yet become so paralyzed by Fear of Lawsuit that it feels comfortable leaving up ancient barns near the prairie paths. Thank God that life isn't completely antiseptic yet.