Home again, and Beware the Cloud People

On the flight home I sat next to a little boy, probably about four, and he told me he wasn't afraid of anything. His friend was afraid of heights, but not him. Nothing.

Except: The Cloud People.

I told him he should write a story and change the ending; this seemed to inspire him and he said he would write a story so boring the Cloud People would stop reading it because it was so boring and then leave everyone alone.

I leaned over to his mother and told her she should be writing all this down, and she confessed it was hard to keep up with him. I gathered that. But I may have to steal the Cloud People, and write a colophon of sorts publically acknowledging this small blue-eyed muse. I am not a nice grown-up, because I have no qualms about sharing an anecdote too amazing like the Cloud People.

Now I sit and have so much to do! That was a lovely trip. The last lunch we went to the Bluebonnet Cafe, and I ate, of course, chicken fried steak and ordered two sides of fried okra, and was a bit too ambitious. I swear, I didn't eat another thing for the rest of the day, and just digested the lunch like a python after a goat:

Before

After

And I wonder why I need to see a doctor about chronic issues. 

I am very happy to be home, and also to say if anyone wants to park a low-level character in the Drunken Fish, my dear friend Señor and I are welcome to the help of getting the guild leveled to 25, an for the company. But in an effort to be clear on expectations: Zeptepi is the Jefa, the boss. The stuff in the bank is her personal purse, and though you are welcome to anything, it is her bathroom cupboard, her junk drawer, and her moveable feast. Señor doesn't even take stuff out (he's afraid of her wrath, I am sure). All races are welcome, of course, but Draenei girls get preferential seating.  It's just science.