When I returned to Canada in 2015, I met with some of my high school friends from ~1982. One of them had a picture of his men’s group from church, and one the members of that group was my best man from my wedding in 1992.
It seemed edgy and unpolished and novel. But I was 13 years old.
I enjoyed some stuff from the early days: Steve Martin’s KING TUT musical number, Bass-O-Matic, Julia Child, one where (IIRC) Penn and Teller were at the end of a wharf and asked for a volunteer from the audience, put him in a trunk, and pushed the trunk off the end of the wharf and it sank.
Back door of barn this morning.
Bunny in barn, enjoying one of Jack’s carrots.
Fergus sunset.
Shovelling snow found to be number 1 cause of Canadians muttering ‘fuck this fucking shit’ over and over
New blanket for Jack! You might call it a Jack-et.
A truth universally acknowledged!
Jack installed (ha!) in her new home. Hope we can give her a happy retirement.
