Sunday, November 3, 2013
November 3. Day 307. Free as a frisbee
― Stancil Johnson
No matter how old you are, or how staid you are, or how tired you are, a Frisbee pretty much demands to be thrown.
On paper, a Frisbee is a bit of a joke. A flat disc. No real distinguishing features. Nothing to write home about here and yet that piece of nondescript plastic represents hours of fun.
The thing you've gotta love about a Frisbee is its seeming refusal to behave in any predictable way.
Throw a ball and it goes straight. A Frisbee rides the wind, it hangs, it hovers, it gets carried away.
Watching Cleo, Grandma and Rumple throw the Frisbee in the yard this afternoon was a bit like watching someone trying to direct me when I'm driving. Concepts such as left and right were clearly quite arbitrary and determined on a whim at the moment. But there's the fun and how much sweet the joy when you land one as Miss Cleo did here.