I know the sensible explanations. More tourists mean more eyes on the water. Waves can look like humps. Logs float. Seals visit. People see what they expect to see.

Before I learned that it was sitting in the bed of his pickup, I had visions of this man pulling a full-size guillotine around behind him in one of those little red wagons we had as children.

According to a recent news story, a black bear in Colorado climbed into an unlocked SUV. The door closed behind him, trapping him inside. In his understandable desire to escape, he managed to lean on the horn. Repeatedly.

As it turns out, coffee is every bit as complicated as wine. The "bean" is actually the seed of a fruit. Where it grows matters. The soil matters. The elevation matters. Rainfall matters. Apparently coffee beans all have rich origin stories.

From what I've read, kangaroos in the wild don't spend their entire lives standing under one tree. They travel. They explore. They cover a surprising amount of territory.

The food appears to be the first shock. Visitors arrive expecting hamburgers. This is understandable. Our reputation abroad appears to consist largely of hamburgers, cowboys, and action movies.

If there is one thing mothers of young children know, it’s this: you do not hand a toddler fine china if you want your heart to continue beating in a normal rhythm. One dropped plate and suddenly you can hear your blood pressure pounding in your ears.

I investigated Panama with the same level of enthusiasm one might expect from a hog searching for truffles. To say I did “some research” would be like saying a skunk produces “some odor.”

Ageism. Is it real? I mean, does the age of a person make a difference as to the weight of his/her/its opinion?

His target market is more likely to have opinions about wagon wheels. His book involves history. Weather. People who would find modern plumbing suspicious.

Everyone’s losing their collective minds over microplastics. Meanwhile I’m over here thinking: “Finally. Raw materials for my upgrade.”

Are there ever enough wind chimes? Now, if you ask my husband, the answer is a resounding, “Yes—about 15 wind chimes ago!” If you ask me, the answer is, “Of course not!”

My coworker and BFF announced on Zoom this morning, “I’m a pluviophile.”The word pluviophile rolled out of her mouth like a secret society password. I half expected a thunderclap and a butler to appear with an umbrella.

I don’t know what’s going on with the planets right now—maybe Mercury’s retrograde is doing cartwheels, or Mars has its warrior pants on—but I cannot sit still. I’ve been bouncing around the house like a human Roomba with a short attention span.

I’ve heard and read so much over the years about the major hate toward Crocs, and honestly, I don’t get it. I mean, they’re not made from actual crocodiles.