Monday, June 20, 2005

flock of seagulls

Yesterday my favorite boy and I went for a picnic at Odiorne Point (no, we did not spy the flasher). We sat at what I will consider as 'our' picnic table; the one scrawled with 'Liz Surmon sucks cock". FYI: I don't know who Liz Surmon is or whether these allegations are true, and I certainly hope her grandparents aren't reading this blog. We sat facing the rocky beach and soaked in the last rays of the day's sunshine. Our picnic was comprised of a flatbread with calamata olives, onions, rosemary, and goat cheese along with salad chock full of mango and cucumber. We were sitting cozy talking about life when we were rudely interrupted by a squwaker.

The squwaker turned out to be a high pitched whining seagull. I'd say there were about 20 gulls standing on the rocks below us. I'm not sure what Whiney's problem was, but he certainly had something to say. He just bawled and bawled, sending his sorrows into the evening breeze. We had a bit of crust left over from our flatbread which we tore up and threw to the gulls. Incidentally, I wouldn't try this at home. We almost had a catastrophe after the first crust morsel was tossed. I swear the whole flock of seagulls descended upon our safe little picnic area. There was biting, squawking, and clucking (I bet you didn't know that seagulls could cluck). All the while, little Whiney sat at the edge of the flock wailing away. He didn't even get close to getting a crusty bite because he was so busy making noise. When he finally realized what was going on and decided to get in on the action, the only morsel left was a cucumber slice. He picked up the slice, played around with it, strutted his stuff through the crowd with treat in beak, then promptly spit it out into the sea.

There really is no moral or point to this story. I guess my words of wisdom on this sunny Monday morning extend to this: if you're too busy whining you miss out on the breadcrumbs and if a boy takes you to the beach for a picnic, you will love him long time.

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