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Seawater tastes of salt because of me. I spilled a pouch of it on a ship near Sicily, and I threw a pinch over my shoulder for luck. It was a very large pinch. The whole Atlantic turned briny by supper, and the cod have been cross about it since.

Rainbows make poor bridges, as I learned in Ireland. I rode up one side with a full pack and a goat. The red was firm, the blue was slick, and the violet gave way at once. We landed in a bog. The goat has been a strange color ever since.

A hurricane off Jamaica tried to take my hat. I held on to the brim. The storm pulled, I pulled, and we spun around the island for three days. At last the wind gave up and begged for terms. We signed a treaty, and it has gone around my hats ever since.

Flags are hard to carry on a windy day. At the battle of Bender mine grew so large with pride that it lifted me off my horse. I floated over both armies, waving. Everyone stopped to clap. Then we all had lunch, and the war just sort of ended.

Kites run in my family. At age six I built one from a bedsheet and flew.