The corporate guys are sure about the demographics, but Raebert knows they’re idiots. She’s unique.

Why this post? Because life is mysterious. The old guys see a canvas crazed with crackled lines they want to interpret. Not what Raebert sees. He can ken the whole woman, no matter how many years ago she lived. Why he spends so much time dreaming.

He wants to be there when she showers.

Have we mentioned that deerhounds aren’t quite dogs? Why they’re so utterly awful to live with. They’re inside your soul, your past, and probably your rotten fate. And they’re not even smug about it. Just weary with your sameness. Except for the women. Who are always, as God intended, a joy to all the senses.

She’s beautiful. Takes my breath away. What could possibly be more gorgeous?

Why this post? Because we all need to remember what deerhounds know. No matter what’s happening now, it doesn’t really matter. What matters is a man’s roughly kind hand and the infinite loveliness of human females with no clothes on. And butterscotch krimpets.

They’re like God’s fingers, only with icing.

I’d mention marinara sauce but it’s getting late.