Yesterday was an interesting cloud day. If you were in the Pacific Northwest, and you happened to have your eyes to the sky, as I often find myself, you would have noticed that floating foolishly on top of the iridescent blue were fat, humorous, cotton ball clouds. At school, aspiring artists laid side by side on the grass transforming the bubbly white masses into majestic creatures and common household items. Driving through rural neighborhoods you could race after the rolling snowballs in the sky, on the ferry children were racing around the top deck under the watchful eyes of the chubby white Granny. Sitting in traffic on I-5 I found myself feeling jealousy for the giant balloons that got to billow free as a bird where ever the wind took them.
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