french toast, bacon
green chili chicken enchiladas
cornmeal dusted halibut, red beans & rice
The dead seal is right where Boss said it would be. Northwest from the big satellite dome, straight down the hill past the second rise. The cinnamon crescent of seal stands out and would have been easily visible from the top of the hill but for the rolling waves of rubble. Years of freezing and thawing have scarred the island’s crumbly topping with depressions and craters giving it a Land of the Lost, B-Movie feel. Walk in any direction and you’re greeted by dinosaur foot prints and flying saucer landing sites. The mummified seal looks at home in this alien landscape. I kneel down to look in its mouth and see broken teeth and the rocks below it’s belly. Every tiny hair has been preserved except for a few patches where the weather has worn it bare like the arms of a well-loved leather chair. I poke it and find it amazingly hard and heavy, the thing doesn’t budge. It has no smell, but it does have little toe nails on its flippers. I’ve been told that it is 800-1000 years old. I ponder the logistics of seal mummy stock.