A while ago Kal and I went to see "Ladies in Lavender" because of Judi Dench and Maggie Smith. One of the trailers was for "March of the Penguins," which I would have forgotten about except that Jessie just reminded me. Kal and I will waddle over to watch the penguins marching at the Mayan (eh, the prepositional phrase follows the wrong verb, but alliteration is vital) next week.
Also Jessie's reminder brought up a kayaking tidbit.
I have a history of mistaking things on water for other things. It was my seeing the nearly-drowned tops of the pilings of a decrepit dock as ducks that made my mother realize I needed glasses. Saturday, kayaking on Dillon Reservoir, I saw...penguins. They were flocked like birds, white with black edges and tops like penguins, and bowling pin-shaped and pudgy and clumsy like penguins, and I guess I didn't Believe hard enough because the grown-up in my head could not reconcile these obvious penguins with anything that was likely to be at 7,000 feet on Dillon Reservoir, close to the continental divide of North America. They were up-ended Canada geese--fat white bellies, dark sides and tail.