Owls in April

I went to Thailand, I climbed rocks, I came back, and I'm telling you nothing more about it (in this post, anyways).

Instead, here's a story about ordering pizza over the weekend.

Papa Johns has an online order form that includes a small spot for "instructions to driver," presumably for those who live in confusing and hard to find places. I'm not a member of that group, but I'm also not one to pass up the opportunity to leave a personal message for a stranger. A few attempts at something silly showed me that they had a character limit more stringent than Twitter's, but I persevered.

Finally, Alyssa and I came up with this gem:

Knock x2, hoot (owl). NO COPS.
Half an hour later, Grady Brown Dog's ears perked up. Footsteps sounded on the porch. We all turned our heads to the door and waited.


<a pause>

"Hooo," cried the owl with our pizza. "Hoooo," it said once more.
When, bursting with laughter, we opened the door, the deliveryman further reassured us that no one had followed him to our lair.

Matt Enlow

Matt has a camera, a home on wheels, and this website
Down by the river