It looks like I just missed being Time's person of the year by a few weeks. In a small way, I feel that this blog entry legitimizes me to earn Time's highest honor along with people like Earth (88), the comptuer (82), and the generation under 25 (66).
With less than a week to go, I am packing, visiting relatives, and rechecking all my forms for Mexico. The most difficult part will be making sure that Crackers has all of his papers ready and signed. I recently purchased the regulation-sized carrying case for my small furry friend which is a compact, fire-engine red box that straps to my gut not unlike, say, 20 lbs. of TNT. The last time I strolled through some of these same airport checkpoints even water was on the banned list.
The excitement and anticipation are building as I get ready.
4 comments:
Obviously some kind of weasel. (Mabel agrees with me.)
Where do these weasel types come from? and why do they DO it? Is this the semiosistitis? I say stop now or God who knows?
I thought he would be a burrito by now.
I thought he'd be a chimichanga by now.
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