Mail! From Alaska!
According to maps of the United States, there's a state waaaaaaaaaaay up at the top, connected to the rest of the country largely via, well, Canada. And an ocean. And, one assumes, some weather patterns. Steve Niles fed it to vampires in 30 Days of Night. I fed it to zombies in Newsflesh. Our Meg visited it once, and brought back reports of snow, dead things, snow, hot tubs, snow, the SCA, and snow. Which implies to me that it's a real place, since if she'd been on a fantasy expedition into the deep inner recesses of her soul, she probably would've gotten to ride a pegasus and collect the souls of the dead or something.
I like to believe that mail from Alaska is delivered via a complex chain of sled dogs, trained ravens working for the post office, brave, civic-minded moose, and other helpful woodland creatures. I understand that my likes don't always shape reality, but until I see the actual method of mail delivery, I'm sticking with my beliefs. Because they're funny. Anyway...
I got mail! From arison, in Alaska! Which means that it was totally carried across the border by one brave, wounded postmaster moose, staggering along, the box wedged between his antlers, determined to get his burden to the customs station...
What?
Anyway, inside the (moose-free) box...flesh-eating bacteria! Um. Plush flesh-eating bacteria, that is, before the NSA decides that somebody needs hit with tasers. He's adorable, and is living in my Halloween glitter tumbler, next to my Pegasus Award. He has no name. He doesn't need one. He's flesh-eating bacteria, and that makes him badass.
Also in the (still moose-free) box...a little green and orange dragon in a rocket ship! For serious. He's a Pocket Dragon -- the first one I've ever actually gotten, despite admiring them for years -- and he is redefining cute. The My Little Ponies are already plotting insurrection. But I have faith that the power of cute will protect him. He doesn't have a permanent place yet, since I'm doing some reorganization of the shelves he's most likely to wind up on, but wherever he settles, he'll be awesome there.
I feel very grateful, and very loved right now.
Hugs for arison, and a moment of silence for the brave postmaster moose. You done good, soldier. You done good.
I like to believe that mail from Alaska is delivered via a complex chain of sled dogs, trained ravens working for the post office, brave, civic-minded moose, and other helpful woodland creatures. I understand that my likes don't always shape reality, but until I see the actual method of mail delivery, I'm sticking with my beliefs. Because they're funny. Anyway...
I got mail! From arison, in Alaska! Which means that it was totally carried across the border by one brave, wounded postmaster moose, staggering along, the box wedged between his antlers, determined to get his burden to the customs station...
What?
Anyway, inside the (moose-free) box...flesh-eating bacteria! Um. Plush flesh-eating bacteria, that is, before the NSA decides that somebody needs hit with tasers. He's adorable, and is living in my Halloween glitter tumbler, next to my Pegasus Award. He has no name. He doesn't need one. He's flesh-eating bacteria, and that makes him badass.
Also in the (still moose-free) box...a little green and orange dragon in a rocket ship! For serious. He's a Pocket Dragon -- the first one I've ever actually gotten, despite admiring them for years -- and he is redefining cute. The My Little Ponies are already plotting insurrection. But I have faith that the power of cute will protect him. He doesn't have a permanent place yet, since I'm doing some reorganization of the shelves he's most likely to wind up on, but wherever he settles, he'll be awesome there.
I feel very grateful, and very loved right now.
Hugs for arison, and a moment of silence for the brave postmaster moose. You done good, soldier. You done good.