Ravens

One of the topics of today's post-ride breakfast (besides boob jobs, the oil spill and whether Clarence lives in Apple Valley or Lucerne Valley -it's complicated) was ravens. Pete said he had read a book about ravens. I've read a lot of books in my life, but I can't think of a book I am less likely to pick up than a whole book about ravens. Pete said that ravens can recognize each other and can choose a specific raven out of 100, if they so choose. I don't know about that, but I do know that I have not seen any ravens hanging out here since the duck pulled the bone out of the pool. Apparently the ravens had nefarious plans and were just hanging around long enough to dispose of a body. I refer everyone back to the crow mafia that was circling my house when Clark and Sarah attacked the raven. I'm sure they would have dumped my body in someone else's backyard if they'd had a chance.

Pete picking up a book about ravens reminded me of a great book I read. The Billionaire's Vineger by Benjamin Wallace. It's about a bottle of wine. And the whole time I was reading it I thought, I have to be the nerdiest person alive because I am reading a book about a freaking bottle of wine and I can't put it down. I highly recommend it.