Yoshimi, they don't believe me

I am listening to some Flaming Lips.



As you get older, you have to make sure you still get weird once in a while.



It comes naturally when you are young.



In 6th grade, I would go sledding, imitate Wookies and walk home along the frozen lake.



When the lake didn't have much snow on it, I convinced my sisters to put on ice skates, and get out there with umbrellas to sail along the ice. The wind was blowing really hard, and we ended up near Sunset Hills, a few miles out of town... on ice skates.



We walked to the Ralston's house, I think, and called for a ride. On our ice skates, miles from home.



And we thought nothing of it.



Oh, we got yelled at, for sure. Me, mostly.



But we thought nothing of it.



I think it's healthy to get in touch with that now and then as an adult.



(For the record, I am a grown-ass man.)



This blog helps me keep it weird.



On the hike today, I got a tick on my leg. I caught it before it got too deep. There was a little blood.



I wanted you guys to know, just in case I start acting all crazy with the Lyme's.



Like drinking a bunch of Red Bull and knocking over a bank.



That would be at least as fun as speaking Wookie and wind-ice-surfing.



Close, anyway.



But that's the Lyme's talkin'.