The amount of moose running through our neighborhood this year is kur-rayyyyy-zeee. Scratch that. They're not running anywhere. They are ambling. Strolling. Downright mosey-ing. Here's a skinny-legged twig-eater hanging out at our road's stop sign, with her yearling hiding down in the ditch behind her. I literally rolled down my window, held up my cell phone, and shouted, "Say cheese, you freakazoid!"
She wasn't amused.
Dinner last night: grilled chicken and gnocchi, green salad