To make up for spamming you with BUGS last time, here are some flowers. (Fair warning: most of them are me screwing around with the pre-sets on my camera, so there are several shots of the same primrose bed from the same angle in "Expressive" or "Pinhole Camera" or whatever mode.)
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Primroses and Gerber daisies )
At least they grow into cuteness!
Good grief, yet another reason not to be in Crazytowne, aka the Gulf. They are Nature's red-headed stepchild.
Signs you should not live in a place: when it's BELOW SEA LEVEL. Also, when you have levy'd up the river so much that boats pass by ABOVE YOUR HEAD.
MUAHAHAH THE ENABLEMENT SHOE IS ON THE OTHER FOOT.
MWAHAHAHAHA. Okay:
Ethan was seven the first time he won at Oregon Trail. At the time, it was the happiest day of his life. He'd laid in plenty of supplies for the inevitable axle breaks, had several successful hunts, had avoided all the rocks on the Columbia River by the skin of his teeth, and-most importantly-since he'd chosen to be a doctor this time around, he'd nursed three members of his party through dysentery and cholera, so that they all arrived alive and well at the coast. When the family computer ground out the happy little tune celebrating his win, Ethan cheered so loudly that it brought his mother running, thinking he'd injured himself.
If pressed, Ethan will admit that his desire to go into medicine stems from that particular game.
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