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Hot Tapir Action

Sunday, August 10 2003

I’m under a “Hottest day ever” computer use policy today, which means less typing, so blog updates shall be terse. I dare not touch a computer unless the full arctic wind of an air con unit is forming icicles on every square inch of my body that doesn’t end in icles already.

There was a hedge hog duel in my back garden last night. Or maybe it was a mating dance. All that can be said for sure is that hedgehogs are heavy breathers, and that running full force at one produces behavior that’s not in the least bit exciting. Complete buzz kill. Hedgehogs just sit there, thinking up clever lottery numbers while you stomp about like the Yeti.

Carrie saw her first hedgehog the night before leaving to the States. She has arrived safely despite the fact that the escalator into the customs pit at LAX kept feeding people into an already shoulder to shoulder room, effectively crushing people into the room as only a machine can until someone pulled the emergency stop lever. Leah was an angel for the 12 hour flight, and was quite excited about being in the airplane (an object she’s been quite enthused about lately, having lived near Heathrow for a third of her life).

Our back garden has been a veritable Wild America

with Marty Stouffer, with a noticeable lack of Marty and America. We’ve seen at least three hedgehogs, six guinea pigs, three or four cats, countless birds, swarms of bees, humans, and no less than one Tapirus bairdii. Half of these animals we saw in the last few weeks as we’ve taken to eating outside in the evenings to get out of the brick oven that we also sleep in. If only we’d eaten outside all along.</P>

I’m getting ready to leave England to continue being a citizen of the United States of America, where, for real, I will be homeless, without a car, and have only a few dollars on my person. My wallet has gone missing, which includes my credit card, ATM card, and drivers license, which makes it difficult to be an American. I’m trying to decide whether or not saying I was pick pocketed sounds a bit romantic, or just makes me look like a total fool. I have a few days to come up with a good story anyhow. Pirates.


</strong> It was either a Tapir, or a clever plant. No plant is more clever than a Venus fly trap, and everyone knows they can’t handle an English winter. Therefore, tapir.

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