Atop the Great Big... Lighthouse

Growing up, I spent good chunks of my year following family along the Washington and Oregon coasts while they attempted to wrangle up various forms of sea life. I've never been a fan of seafood (or "shellfood" as I often quote), so I gave up on the  fishing, clamming, crabbing, whatever, when my age was still in single digits. That meant that hanging at the beach, throwing things in the campfire, and visiting the lighthouse were the only fun things to do on these so-called vacations. Since Pacific Northwest 'beaches' are actually windy, cold, piles of rocks, even in mid-August, and there's only so much you can burn without getting into trouble, my hours were mostly wiled away by begging to go up to one of the various lighthouses.

Because of these 'fond' memories, along with my undying need to be near bodies of water, I continue to find myself in the vicinity of lighthouses, even now. I have tens of photos from the edge of a cliff, looking over a big blue sea. Because the candle on the water is often picturesque itself, I've also included it in many of these seascapes. I always figured I enjoyed the lighthouse -- its location, the way it symbolizes solitude -- but now I think maybe I'm just a penis freak.

The other night I watched an old episode of The Riches in which the sex-starved neighbor is sculpting what appears to be a giant cock. When asked, she replies, "It's a lighthouse." Now that the association has been made, I can't get rid of it.

I got to work the next day, looked at the lovely photo on my computer desktop of Malmo, Sweden and saw.. well. Maybe I never liked lighthouses at all. Maybe I've just been subconsciously chasing a big dick all these years. Who's to say?

I really won't make that call. But I can assure you that I did remove the photo from my desktop. I don't need that kind of distraction at work.