Flintstones

This post continues a brief series I began on April 24th entitled, Stoned.

Okay, I'm sorry, but when I look at this stone wall, that’s all I think of ― The Flintstones. Crazy, but true. It could be some hard-wired primal thing, or maybe I was Queen of a Cro Magnon cave city in a past life, but something is up for sure because, and I'm not kidding, I just had lunch with a guy who looked an awful lot like Barney Rubble, and I haven't thought about him in ages.

If I was asked to look at these stones, arranged as they are in this wall, and free associate, I know exactly what I would say.

Yabba Dabba Doo.

And no, I’m not stoned, just a little whacked out from a long work week.