let me out, rat poot, roadrunners,
half-mast, and too small to fight
half-mast, and too small to fight
Lemme think here. Should I turn around—or keep goin’? I went back to last month’s page and added three more paragraphs, changed some text, switched a photo, added another of an absolutely awesome tow vehicle that I came across in Bisbee, and changed the title a bit. I seem to go back and edit past pages quite a bit, even some I’ve written years ago. Meadow and Mesa did not like staying in the Nash for three weeks while we were in Bisbee. Meadow would go hyper every evening. If there were a small item lying about, it would get swatted all around the trailer. Mesa was way more vocal than he usually is, and his usual can be a bit much to take. He was making a sound between a howl and a snarl—he was totally pissed. As you know from previous pages, once we got to our next spot and they were allowed out, they flew out the door, easily clearing the three steps and disappeared for hours. Maybe I should trade them in for a turtle. While in CoRs, I ran across a couple I met a fe...