I'm moving to Corsica and I'm never
coming back.
Those of you who know me even just a
little probably know two weird facts about me—I like the beach, and
I like cows. I can explain the former because of the zen-like effect
a beach has on me; unfortunately, I have absolutely no explanation
for the latter, other than the fact that they're really fun to
photograph. So even just knowing those two weird facts, after looking at this picture it makes
perfect sense why I'd want to move to a French island--
Yup. On the island of Corsica
(birthplace of Napoleon, among other things) there is a group of cows
that have escaped a nearby farm and have taken up residence on
a Mediterranean beach. First of all, let me congratulate the cows on
both their escape and their excellent choice of a hiding place.
Secondly, anyone know when the ferry leaves the mainland for Corsica?
I kinda need to be there as soon as possible.
8-)
Actually, I'm sure the cows have been
rounded up by now. The news story was several days old when I
discovered it yesterday. But can you imagine the joyous rapture that
would've caused my head to explode had I been on that (or any beach)
at the moment the cows arrived? What would I have been happier
about? The beach? The cows? Would my brain have locked up trying
to process all the bits of incoming joy?
Someone might have had to hit
CTRL-ALT-DEL on my brain, and THAT would've been a lot of fun.
Oh well. I guess I just wasn't lucky
enough to be at the right place at the right time. That's life, or,
as they'd say on Corsica, c'est la vie. I'm sure I'll be able to
survive without experiencing the rapture of cows on a beach.
However, should the weather ever get nice, I can guarantee I'll be
spending a lot of time at McCarty's Cove or South Beach over the next
few months, and should someone be transporting cows through the area,
and should that someone want to give those cows a little break to
stretch their legs on a local beach...
Well, I'll give you my phone number.
You know...just in case.
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