Lonely, wandering clouds of Wordsworth’s fame, step aside. You’ve got meatloaf-shaped competition—and I can’t unsee it. I’m only wandering lonely as a meatloaf from now on. On a rare, sunny day, Nate, Alex, and I took the ferry to Whidbey Island, walked along the beach, and found this loaf-like shape in the rocky sand—and it… Continue reading Wandering Meatloaf