Nothing says romance like a prostrate polar bear

This past weekend I sat around the house reading the fifth Harry Potter book (yes, I do mean 5), watching TV, and alternately blowing my nose and coughing. During 2 of the 4 hours I spent outside my house, I managed to get a sunburn. During the other 2 hours, I complained about the noise volume at Chili's.

I am officially fragile, old and lame.

Oh, well. At least I have pictures to prove I was once young and vital and spent happy hours frolicking with polar bears. Of course, by "frolicking" I mean "watching from a vantage point safely outside their enclosure". Josh took this picture of me and my close friend Ursus maritimus, or as I like to call him, Snuggles.



Unfortunately, I didn't manage to get a picture of Josh after he nimbly vaulted inside the bear pen and challenged Snuggles to a thumb-wrestling duel. I wish I could share that memory with you. I will treasure it always, as I treasure the high-quality red-and-black SF Zoo sweatshirt (sported by me in the picture, given to me by Veltman). Though I haven't a photo of Josh, I have the sweatshirt to remind me of our excursion, which is fortunate; after Josh's shenanigans, we've been asked never to return to the zooiest place on earth.