Fwd: Dust. Wind. Dude.

[cyrano]

Cyrrie is getting long in the tooth, or would if he had teeth. His plush is
still in pretty good condition, save around his seams and his tail, but his
felt is curling and aforementioned seams are distressing. He can't hold his
head up any more. He still wears the pretty amber necklace that Jess gave
us, possibly back when we were dating, and his eyes (always a potential
trouble spot) are bright and firmly attached. He doesn't get to travel any
more. There's too much potential for a stupid accident. Plus my memory is
atrocious and chances of me setting him down and forgetting him are
embarrassing to admit. And nobody lives forever, I know that, but I think I
kind of need him to. I considered dipping him in lucite, but that would
make holding him kind of awkward. There's a metaphor in that but it's way
too early and I'm not prepared to unpack it and I have a headache from
sinuses and crying so you figure it out for yourselves.

Pics are from our trip to Ashland when we rode the bike. Chicks dig coyotes
so he was in charge of trying to sell our tickets.