Sunday, March 17, 2013

MI Notes, P3

Felt soles are bad in snow. Nobody told me. It is good that I am graceful like a dancer.

It seems I have, for the most part, shuffled off my sickness-induced infirmity. I believe the continued frolicking in sub-freezing temperatures has caused some symptoms to linger longer than normal, however. My nose-blows are record breaking. A buff makes an excellent extended-use snot rag. My toes are often in a state of panic while outside.

Saw a living possum eating a dead possum on top of the trash can at the Wahalla take-out. Kevin said that possums live pretty hard lives and when they die they usually have broken bones and frost bite injuries. They move very slow. I have been a little empathetic lately, but am getting better and I think soon I will be able to get back to a standard level of sympathy for such critter.

Steelhead were caught yesterday.

-Alex bobber-ninja.


  1. ...graceful like a dancer.

    Thanks for that mental image, Alex. You and Baryshnikov. Or Beyonce.

    Shoot me now.

  2. Anonymous7:15 AM

    This post is more "fancy writing" - in this case allusion for eating possum with your feet.

    You used to be honest and real. Now you're just another food critic hoping for a spot on Iron Chef.

    BTW, what bourbon brand do you like with your possum.

  3. Brings back memories of the snow treks between the trout holes and the two feet of frozen ice and snow that accumulated on the felt soles. FYI...your buddy knew this would happen, chuckled to himself on the inside and then chose not to tell you.


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