Making an imprint
When my father poured a slab of cement to build a dog kennel, he called my family out into the yard to sign it before it dried. To date, that's the only time I've ever carved my name into anything--not a tree, not a bathroom wall, nothing. I've never even signed off in spray paint. The most I've done is hide a piece of a broken typewriter in a hard-to-reach place on my college campus. It was there six months later; not so sure about now. I'd love to track down some mottled birch in twenty years and hope to find a charming relic, but I think I've passed the carving-one's-name-in-stuff threshold. But maybe not. Perhaps there's a wild New Year's to anticipate; after all, absinthe is among us once again. Regardless, when I saw these paw-imprinted tiles on TeamSugar, the longing only increased: I must get procure some wet plaster or at least some modeling clay and just imprint my entire identity into it! And what about you: are there forests or rest areas or driveways out there where we could find your personalized ciphers?