My buddy John from New Zealand came to visit again this year, bringing a funny accent, loads of stories, and gifts for Ang and the kids.
Trot with the Screaming Monkey Slingshot. Can I tell you that you haven't lived until you've heard this thing going off at 6:15 in the morning? In a perfect example of karma, John woke up around 6 today with Trot 10 inches from his face mumbling some sort of gibberish. John told him to go back to bed and lo and behold: he did. It must be the accent.
Trot modeling my socks from John (as we all know; Dad's get socks for Christmas) and a hat made out of raccoon hair. Count me among those who didn't know New Zealand was home to 75 million raccoons. It's a veritable perfect dream for a West Virginian. ;)
John and his adopted, slightly deranged American family. I threatened him with the prospect of us coming to New Zealand someday; you've never seen someone try and get deported faster.
Finally, Big and Little right before The Scouser jumped in his car in relief to journey back up North. John, we're honored you took some time to come visit, although I do worry about your mental health in making such a decision.
Can't wait to see you again in May at the Megapalooza.
Safe travels back to the Land of the Kiwi and you've got a standing invitation anytime you can make it over the pond.
On friendship and (more) healing.
8 hours ago