It wasn't long after the baby was born,
on one of those days when he was fussier than usual and Shelley wished
the weather would turn warm enough to melt the snow a little so she could
drive into town and see another adult human being for just an hour. Maybe
just half an hour, just long enough to be around someone else who was
chirpy and bubbly and fun to be with, who would make her feel good again
and keep her from sinking again, something that seemed to happen more
often than not any more. She could drive through the drifts. Drifts were
little more than snow out of place the way weeds, her college professor
had said ages ago, were flowers out of place.
A potted history
The Flat Earth Society has a new rival - The Cult of the Pot Earth. This
finely crafted 'globe' of the earth depicts what followers of the cult
believe the Earth to look like. They're absolutely barmy of course, but
it is a nice pot.
Hmm, this pot is a little on the large side. Perhaps there is something