Haiku Ambulance

And, look! The Tour de Fat!

That was only so long ago that I have no idea how long ago it was.

But Ryan finally uploaded his pictures {which are also technically my pictures because I killed my camera.)

The man himself {with, like, no facial hair. wtf}

Aaron. Sizin’ up the Connect Four.

Nick and Angie’s heineys. Us un-fit folks saw this view consistently throughout the Tour. They smoked us.

Yours truly. On Angie’s bike. And in her gloves. {thanks, Angie!}

And this was me at the Finish Line. 1st Place!!! Ohmygod I can’t believe I won!

Oh. I totally didn’t win. Is it even a race? I don’t think so.

But I can look into the distance like I won.

Angie thinks she won, too.

Once we got back to ground zero, we were met with many silly bikes.

Is that a pink feather??

Shoe bike. Double bike. La-Z Boy bike.

Angie. Workin it out.

It was really dangerous. Aaron almost lost a cuticle.

Then we did this pretty much the rest of the day. Until it rained anyway.

Pogo Nick!

Pogo Angie!

Pogo Zoë!

Pogo Ryan!

Pogo UFO Aaron!

Pogo Vaudeville Show Guy!

And Elvis.

Well, not that it was like- last year- or anything….

But I finally have proof that I do exciting things on a mildly regular basis.

New Years Eve at Our House.

The hosts.

If you can’t see the Turtleneck, take a closer look.

The spread.

The usual suspects. Chips. Shrimp. {and the delightful beet/goat cheese canelle round things I made.

Misc. pickle platter. Smoked oysters. Hummus. Cheese. Meat.

The Tree. And the Duncan.

The guests.

Angie. James. A nose with a mustache.

Super-fast Anne.

Super-fast Ryan. Idle Ryan.

Sort of fast Jessica.

Jessica and Kevin.

Yours truly and her harmonica.

And finally- Ryan and his shrimp.

So, Joe- our orphan pigeon friend- left us.

Twas Monday morning when Ryan and I stepped out to bid Joe our farewells before work.

For lunch on Monday, I traversed East Hampden Avenue looking for some proper seed for our guest. The best I could do was some loose golden flax and raw sunflower seed at Whole Foods.

Upon return of our work-days, we found no Joe.

Tuesday morning. No Joe. (but also none of the seed I left out…curious…)

Tuesday night. No Joe.

This morning, with little to no hope of seeing Joe anytime soon, I went upstairs to start the coffee.

JOE!

There he was, on his AC unit, looking in the window and ready for his breakfast.

JOE!

I ran downstairs (for a pigeon? yes.) and went outside and looked up at Mr. Fatpants Joe.

JOE!

And he flew right on down to my feet and gave a little giggle (he sounds like a giggle) and ate his breakfast. Such a good guy.

So, we left again this morning per usual throughout the week, and made sure to tell Joe that we would be back later for dinner.

Today’s lunch, I spent at the Wild Bird Center, speaking with Debbie, who apparently is the pigeon queen of all pigeon queens. She hooked Joe up with some of the best grub on the block- and also offered to take him in if that was our wish!

Oh, Joe! Imagine a home with tons of pigeon friends! And you can all hang out and talk about seeds and grit and grains and garbage and small bugs and how much you like to poop all over the place and how birds apparently don’t technically get pregnant (thanks, Debbie) and your new friends downtown and your AC unit and then you can all just giggle the night away!

Well, Joe- I guess we’ll see how this week goes, and then maybe Debbie will come and rescue you like Prince Charming and you can go to your (much deserved) Castle. Or coop. Or flight, as they say at the Wild Bird Center.

If only you knew, Joe. If only you knew.

This is Joe.

He’s what we believe to be an English Trumpeter pigeon. He’s been on our roof since 11:00 am this morning. He likes cookie crumbs and naps in his own poop. He tried to come inside, but he’s not allowed. He’s been a very gentlemanly Sunday guest and we hope he visits again soon.

He is also most likely a pregnant female.

…the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth.

Lo. Lee. Ta.