Red Mosquito

Chris_H_2 wrote:

doug rr wrote:make sure to stop at the Vatican gift shop..you cant miss it on your way out..the catholics need money

I stocked up on the bottle openers with the pope’s face on them … or as we called them … Popeners. They’re a must have.

Higgs wrote:I am 100% grabbing a popener. I am actually kinda on a mission to see what (small and light) but atrociously ugly souvenirs I can grab as we travel. Wife insists on doing Pisa so my trade-off is buying the ugliest leaning tower souvenir I can find and then having it take pride of place in the lounge room forever more.

E.H. Ruddock wrote:About to go wander around midtown Manhattan for the afternoon

Monkey_Driven wrote:

E.H. Ruddock wrote:About to go wander around midtown Manhattan for the afternoon

Get a street hot dog for me

E.H. Ruddock wrote:About to go wander around midtown Manhattan for the afternoon

Carl Sandburg wrote:There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

bodysnatcher wrote:I’m going to dig a hole to China

doug rr wrote:go to bubba gumps and get the burger