One thing I rarely talk about on this night - and tonight I shall - is the overabundance of strikingly beautiful, earthy women in Bellingham. I frequently refer to them as hotties.
Similar instances have happened to me in the past, tonight being one such episode: I was riding up Railroad around nine p.m. and turned down onto Holly. So I see a little cutie on a funky foldable bike turn onto Railroad away from from me (I'd just turned off Railroad).
I thought to myself, "damn, that would just make my evening complete to see that woman again." Sure enough I met up with her at the light in front of the high school on Cornwall. So we chatted a few blocks while riding up Cornwall and she asked me where I was going. I should have responded "to the ends of the world with you," but instead I soberly said "home," and we exchanged names and I headed for home on Kentucky.
Now that some semblence of sanity and stability have returned to my little world in the fourth corner, it hase dawned upon me that the season is nigh to participate in the odd activity of dating.
Oh, and the glass in the picture is the nice surprises that appear in the house when your housemate blows glass.