The world’s slowest rotating restaurant.
I slurped my left-over broccoli soup dinner, “Huh?” I replied to the WideEyedSpouse. “It’s like we’re on the world’s slowest rotating restaurant,” the Spouse repeated. I gazed at him, thinking maybe those Left Hand Milk Stout Nitros were hitting him a little hard. They could rotate a room I guess. The Spouse had been thinking about the fact that we live on this spinning ball in the middle of an awesome hugeness and that gravity is the only reason we aren’t flung off. After dinner, he stood in the driveway while the dogs had an evening yard romp and stared at the stars. “If you look long enough, you can see that they are moving and that we are moving.” I don’t know what happened to the Spouse that he had a moment of awareness of the vastiness. Maybe it was triggered by our camping trip to the wilds a week or so ago. The night sky was huge, the Milky Way looked like mist flowing off the mountains around us. A couple of satellites …