in A Girl's Gotta Swear, Cabin Fever, Head Cocked & Eyebrow Up, Her Name Is Lola, Not Quite What We'd Planned, The State We're In, Things we do

I’m sure my journalism textbooks said something about always getting photos of the road kill. Maybe.

Walkies were a little different this morning.
– 39 degrees outside
– Raining (No really. Again! And I’m not losing my shit over it at all!)
– No Lola, for she is lame
– No sun, for it has forsaken me
But we were that desperate to get outside and get moving, and along the way, we saw a penny farthing mailbox, a dead bird, a potato rock, cows of the forest, and a wet cemetery. It’s kind of like the 12 days of Christmas, but through the eyes of David Lynch.
IMG_3950

Tim: Why on earth do you need a picture of a dead bird? Me: I don’t think you understand how photojournalism works. Tim: Well, are you going to report the cause of death? Me: IT DIED OF RAIN!

Tim: Why on earth do you need a picture of a dead bird?
Me: I don’t think you understand how photojournalism works.
Tim: Well, are you going to report the cause of death?
Me: IT DIED OF RAIN!

I thought it was a potato, even though roadside potatoes don't make sense. So I picked it up.  Rock.

I thought it was a potato, even though roadside potatoes don’t make sense. So I picked it up.
Rock. Not good for potato salad at all.

I don't think the Brothers Grimm wrote any fairy tales about forest bulls. Did they?

I don’t think the Brothers Grimm wrote any fairy tales about forest bulls, but they should have, because this would make an excellent illustration.

IMG_3954 IMG_3956The gray and misty bay

Let a smirk be your umbrella.

Let a smirk be your umbrella.

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