Style

At my first job in a church we used to take a retreat to this place in Northern Illinois that had an actual castle on the property.  Pretty cool.  Better yet, we would take the youth there in February.  Pretty cold. (See what I did there?)

The place had this huge field that was great for playing games in the summer.  In the winter we walked by it as quickly as we could trying to stay warm while going to the dining hall. One morning on our way to breakfast we noticed how beautiful the snow was that had arrived the night before.  It was so far untouched on this huge field.  Just a giant sheet that seemed to soak up some noises and make others so much more evident.

It didn’t last.  On the way back, we noticed one of the damn kids had walked on the field, ruining the image, destroying the ambiance. But wait.  They didn’t just walk on the field.  There was some kind of pattern. No, not just a pattern.  Words.  In the fresh snowfall one of our industrious teens had taken the time to spell out something on the field.

PATRICK IS BALD.

He thought I would be mad.  I wasn’t.  There was a sense of style. I was impressed.

Today I saw this:

Style.

Very cool that someone is working to solve a problem in such a cool way.  I’ve never met this guy, but I like him so much more than the people who have simply lectured me about using plastic.

Now, when someone makes a beer bottle that’s also a pretzel? They’ll get two blog posts.