Come back Steggy

The very first gift that my sweetheart gave me was a plastic dinosaur. I know right; sometimes the rapturous heart knows, and the rational mind just tags along for the ride. It was not a stegosaurus, because those are evidently not the romantic gift style of dinosaur. It was a sort of tyrannosaurus rex; a luminous, lime and pink, squeaky sort of tyrannosaurus rex. I don’t remember ever photographing it. I certainly never photographed it in an international airport lounge (Matt, that was truly an inspired idea). Now that I consider it, the sweetheart, the dinosaur, and I, have covered a lot of ground together. It’s done almost 15,000 km in international moves. Alas, it stopped squeaking back in California, but if I shove it down my sweater it still glows in the dark. I have to admit, that is just about enough to keep my interest.

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