It's the kind of day that makes me want to get a haircut I'll later regret. It's a tingly, finger-me, slung-from-a-tree day. All-about-me, wish-it-were-we day.

The sun did this, that bastard. Flashing that thigh in the sky, warming up people, places and things. Making us want to run and scream and poke and prod and pretend we have no bones.
Little Twelve-toes, all grown up.

1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-dec-el-doe. Who remembers?

The tanuki visited today. He said howdy, then proceeded to take my breath away. He does that. And then he waddles off into obscurity again, leaving nothing but panting, heaving flesh.

Tanuki does not believe in pelvic rest.