The Bird Hates Cinder Block

An excerpt from an email/journal entry dated 10/30/2007 (Move to Palm Springs):


A quick Geronimo story: The first night of travel, we had reservations (we use that term loosely) at a Motel 6. Chris had never stayed at one before, so who was I to deprive him of THAT piece of Americana? Always the practical one, he made me unload the ENTIRE car into the room in case of theft! Okay, he didn’t make me,  and I must admit I probably wouldn’t have thought of it, and with two computers and other valuables, it was probably a very smart thing to do. Maybe that Mac box in the window wouldn’t have been such a deterrent? Anyway, I digress (and there will be a lot of that tonight)… After we had everything unloaded and were settled in what can best be described as minimum security prison surroundings,  we uncovered Geronimo to let him out of his cage. He peeked his head out of his little tent, took in his surroundings, and let out a disgusted SQUAWK, and disappeared into his tent, never to come out again the entire time we were there! We about died laughing! Who knew he had such tastes? Seriously, he did not come out again until we were in the car the next morning! Gotta love that!



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