Several years ago, Snugl, my heal totem, insisted that we find hugh manatee. At Christmas. In a metropolitan area. Mr Steve called from a shopping trip, practically squealing with glee because he found Hugh Manatee. He actually found twice as much Hugh Manatee as we were actually looking for. You can never go wrong with extra Hugh Manatee.
I was thinking about this during my bender of The Walking Dead (Matt Groenig, are you paying attention, this would be great mash up.) I like this show in the same way that I like the Stand. It’s not about the Zombies or the plague. It’s about the way people handle it to survive, and what the path of survival costs in terms of lives and values.
I’m not sure if I’m supposed to feel sorry for Lori because she has the love and respect of two desperate men. True, one is an ass and the other fights every day to deal with the crown that has been thrust upon him. (I have finished the first two seasons, and I’m not spoiling anything for anyone, so it’s safe to keep reading. )
I think survival is really about what you as a person can do and still stare yourself in the face. As I cobble together the bits and pieces of the emerging crazy, sometimes things froth to the top.
Last night I was watching Zombies chase the cast around the Deep South, a thought popped into my head (Or pooped into being, your choice.) I thought that I actually genuinely hope that things go well with the AWT and her impending delivery. I’m not thrilled about it by any means, and clearly I’m not ready to stop calling her the AWT, but I don’t wish her any hardship.
Once I thought of it, I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I thought about texting EH to tell him to pass that on. But then I realized that was incredibly passive aggressive.
So I sent her that sentiment via the Facebook.
Because Hugh Manatee doesn’t want me to get lost.