Life of the Loon

Dears, I have an announcement. As much as I love and honor the majestic Bathynomus Giganteus, it is time I bid the isopod farewell. Because I have found a new passion: Loons. The triumph of birds and a gorgeous specimen with an otherworldly call. They soar through the heavens dipping their tails in the night sky’s ink. The winds carve out invisible pathways for their earthless wanderings. Loons live in marshes and commune with one another in perfect harmony. Theirs is bird paradise; a beautifully sculptured social system of order and understanding, in which loon and loon live together.  

My dear friend Julia introduced me to their divine call, and I have since not been able to satiate my desire for this feathered wonder of the world. They are a wholly otherworldly animal.  

My consulting work is slow right now, so I have planned a rather impromptu trip to a bird sanctuary in New Hampshire. I wish to live and breathe these birds, understand their lives and how they think, feel, love.

 

Sadly, the Yamaguchi’s daughter is now pregnant. What happens when you go to private school, I’m afraid to say. She and the father will be infesting my small apartment in a month’s time. Rather than suffer through another apartment search with a view of the river and adequate sunlight, I have decided to extend my trip to the bird sanctuary. Perhaps it will provide sanctuary for myself as well as my feathered friends.  

Life is never an easy road. Mine has been full of twists and turns, dead ends and murky fog. But I have triumphed and now I find myself at another crossroads. You, my dear readers, are my new chroniclers of this next step in my journey. I have found a small rented room near the sanctuary into which myself and my three life companions will follow.  

May the road rise with you
May with wind be always at your back
May the sun shine warm upon your face
May the rain fall soft upon your fields
And until we meet again
May God hold you
In the hollow of his hand

A Fun Tryst

  After urging from some library friends, I have finally begun to watch The Tudors, a show about King Henry VIII. I was initially resentful of the historical inaccuracies and the liberal display of women’s chests. But it is a fun little jaunt and I, surprisingly, enjoyed myself rather tremendously. Jonathan Rhys Meyers is dishy as the title role, though he overuses his eyes as a dramatic device one too many times. The romantic scenes are a bit over the top but I found they were quite successful at imparting the passion and intensity of that era.  

Georgie also found Jonathan enjoyable, as he sat on my lap quite intently watching the screen for the entire show. I do not entirely agree with the BBC’s decision to broadcast such an, well, explicit show, no matter how late it screens. I think the American’s way of broadcasting The Tudors on cable is much more favorable. We can’t be too careful in protecting our children.

I leave you, my dear readers, with a hint: