Thursday, Jul. 04, 2002
Dear Diary:

I may have started a cult.

Last night the spousal unit and I were moving rock, which is basically the theme for this summer. Oh yeah, we're a rockin' duo.

While going in the pond for a refreshing dip, Paul noticed that a large flat rock in it had broken in two. He thought the biggest bit would make a nice stepping stone in the shallow end of the pond. He carried it over and set it down in the water, right at the edge of the pond, where the water was about six inches deep.

Well Mr. Man, within seconds a school of the pond's biggest goldfish had hightailed it over to the stone, stopped, and stared at it with the kind of reverence normally reserved for cathedrals, major works of art or freshly baked doughnuts.

(Look, I'm Canadian, and we worship the doughnuts, eh).

They were soon joined by some of the smaller goldfish. At one point we figured there were a couple of dozen orange fish with their noses practically stuck on this rock, transfixed. Yes, the sudden appearance of this unexplained rock was creating major waves in the world of goldfish.

You could almost see the thought bubbles above their wee heads. "Look. An Unexplained Rock. Do You Think It Might Be A Sign From On High? Should We Start A New Religion?"

We watched them for about 15 minutes and they showed no sign of dispersing. This says a lot about

a) goldfish attention span and

b) how very easily amused the spousal unit and I are.

Yes, we are two people who can spend fifteen minutes watching a group of orange fish stare at a rock.

Feel free to point and snicker.

--Marn

Old Drivel - New Drivel


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Want to delve into my sordid past?
She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -


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This template is a riff on a design by the truly talented Quinn. Because I'm a html 'tard, I got alot of pity coding to modify it from Ms. Kittay, a woman who can make html roll over, beg, and bring her her slippers. The logo goodness comes from the God of Graphics, the Fuhrer of Fonts, the one, the only El Presidente. I smooch you all. The background image is part of a painting called Higher Calling by Carter Goodrich which graced the cover of the Aug. 3, 1998 issue of The New Yorker Magazine.

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2000, 2001, 2002 Marn. This is me, dagnabbit. You be you.