On Wed, Apr 22, 2009 at 10:53:42AM -0600, William Robb scripsit:
> ----- Original Message ----- From: "Graydon"
[snip]
> I assure you the only thing about me that is cultured is sitting
> forgotten in my fridge.

What, no cheese?  At all, ever?

(Or, I mean, _technically_, beer?)

>> Is there really -- or were the road atlas makers laying traps for
>> illicit map copiers -- a town of Pheasant Rump?
>
> http://www.sicc.sk.ca/bands/bpheas.html

If I'd had to take a bet on that, I'd be looking for hat seasonings.

Thanks!

>> I was in a hurry, and in a moving van, the one time I passed through,
>> so I could neither stop and revel in the miles of bird marsh by the
>> Trans-Canada (a shock to someone required to read various
>> Depression-era novels, where "dry" and "flat" compete for emphasis)
>> nor deke off the road to check for possibly mythical towns.
>
> You must have been driving past that huge shallow marsh that runs from
> west of Chaplin almost to Gull Lake. I'm not sure how they are keeping
> that full, I suspect someone stuck a shovel into a creek somewhere and
> that lake is the result.

Dunno how it got there, but I'm all for that much wetland bird habitat.

Hope to get back there sometime with a tripod and a telescope.

-- Graydon, who is also determined to go back to the Royal Tyrell when
it's not a)Good Friday (and thus full of kinetic schoolkids) and
b)having a Theropod Hall closure.

--
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