A rash, or a rack?

The answer is a “rasher”.

Imagine a frying pan full of sizzling lake freighters.  =D

Valdemort, don’t you wish you were up here to know the context of that thought??
Eventually, if you are careful, the Clyde’s coma which earlier in the day both turned you into a beached whale and gave you the extra fat layer to walk in the wind begins to recede.  To go into remission.  Its jaws begin to weaken, and you feel the first twinges of something that might possibly have the potential to turn into something resembling the semblance of “hunger”.

Then you gorge yourself on dinner and little frozen eclairs.

The little sandpipers that flit around at the water’s edge leave little flat prints in the sand.  It’s a good thing we don’t have crocodiles (“flatties”, if you read Scribbling the Cat) or they’d be eaten like popcorn, three to the mouthful!
I’m glad that I don’t live a family where we “fall to our knees at the breathless beauty of the landscape and stare for ten minutes” ( O_o ), but if anyone were ever to need that opportunity we’ve got the perfect setting for it.  The lesson we shall take from this is:

If you ever end up with a truly horrible book, just walk away.  It is no sin to dispose of it quietly in the dead of night, and no one will ever know (unless you make an unreasonable amount of noise in the process).
Moom is a few inches into a sock.  I got her!

One Response to “A rash, or a rack?”

  1. Valdemort Says:

    I don’t fall to my knees, but I stop for stunning sunsets and cool odds and ends at the Doelle end.

    Frying pan?

    Lemme guess. The lake was calm and rather flat, and the sunlight was direct/strong enough to cause heat waves to radiate up off the surface of the water in such a way that it appeared the freighters were sizzling??

    : D I’m probably wrong, but that’s definitely what I saw my last day up there!

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