The Bottom

Sometimes, to get to the bottom of a thing,

You need to have the curiosity of a child.



Funny how a picture such as this could remind one of so many disconnected stories and anecdotes.

Her legs remind me of the legs of a friend, whose husband was offered three camels for her while she danced naked in the Egyptian desert.

Her blonde hair reminds me of an argument I had with a friend, while sipping cokes in a small cafe on the beach on Koh Samui, in Thailand, way back when. I was maintaining that the ten percent rule apllies to women everywhere. Ten percent would be regarded as "good looking", while the rest filled out the other ninety, with the bottom ten percent filling out the "ugly" quotient. He argued that this was not the case in Gothenburg, Sweden.

He won the argument.

It also reminds me of one of my first memories, slipping my head behind a curtain of a military tent, in Jerusalem, in 67, and watching a doctor pull my Mother's pants down her backside and jab an enormous (to me) needle in it. In one week the war was to begin. I don't really remember the war.

And it reminds me of my cousin Patrick, who was as blonde as this boy, and who grew up to fight in the Iraqi war's first year, and who is now stationed in Okinawa and coming home with his wife and three kids, soon, back to the States.

And it reminds me that I am still a guy...