This was at the zoo, but it doesn’t change the fact of how terrifying it was. Ostrich eggs on the menu at Cow by Bear soon.
I woke up this morning in La Jolla in a house shaped like a banana but the color of a mango. I spent a lovely night with a little shot of life that went by the name of T-Ray. She has one of those semi-shaved side haircuts, a pet pig named Nacho, an old school Nintendo with a power pad and an ability to drink single malt whiskey like a Kenyan after running 26.2 miles.
While T-Ray made breakfast – honey cured bacon from Da-Le Ranch and milk fed chicken eggs, I took Nacho for a walk. For those of you who have never walked a pig, its pretty much just like walking a dog. Except a pig oinks the whole time and nobody came up and wanted to rub the pig’s head like they do a dog. The advantage of the pig versus the dog is you could ride it home if you got in a bind (maybe a sprained ankle), or if you’re a real asshole, you could always eat it.
As Nacho and I got about five minutes down the road we came along a giant field of alligator pears (or as you call them in California, avocados). I personally love alligator pears having raised them for a summer a few years ago on the outskirts of Lima, Peru.
As I followed the alligator pear field, I came to a giant driveway that said “No Trespassing.” Knowing that nobody ever got anywhere by taking no for an answer, we headed up to the gigantic house. We crested the massive driveway and were welcomed by an enormous statue. It couldn’t have been less than fifteen feet tall and was made of pure bronze. The statue had quite a resemblance to Magnum P.I. holding a sack of alligator pears in one hand and a pistol in the other.
Spinning Pet Sounds at Cow by Bear.
When I first took to Tumblr to tell my stories, I was welcomed with a question from everybody’s favorite blog moderator, tumblrbot. He asked what my earliest human memory was. This was an easy question for me to answer, as I’ve asked it of myself numerous times.
The first thing I remember in this lifetime was herding cows with my father in Tillamook, Oregon at the age of 4. I remember it being a day full of energy, hope, promise and exhaustion. Tumblrbot’s question got me thinking more about that day and my experiences with my father.
I remember that day vividly. After herding all the cattle, we put one especially large cow in the back of his pickup and headed to his favorite fishing town of Garibaldi, Oregon. We let the cow loose in the surrounding forest. I’m not sure why we did this and my father is no longer around for me to ask.
We then launched his boat into the bay for his favorite pastime, salmon fishing. We caught 27 fish that day and we were both so happy. I never understood until years later why we had to hide fish in every secret cubby throughout the skiff, and why when a fish cop came to question us, my father looked at me and said, “Whatever you do, just shut the fuck up.”
In my travels I’ve found this Nike store, in the Palermo neighborhood of Buenos Aires, Argentina to have the hippest selection of Nike kicks in the world.
Taken at Lake Atilan when I spent a year living in Guatemala teaching French and working as a volunteer police officer.