There is a post that I have to save in draft mode until all the crap that surrounds it blows over. I don't mean to be cryptic, but a call from a private investigator on Christmas Eve pitched me into a deep funk, I had a write about it (the draft), and I am feeling much better. Wyatt is fine. Matty is fine. I am fine.
On the positive side, the slew of beautiful wee babies being sprung in Bishop is making me happy for all the new parents. Yes, we apparently are a breeding town, even if our population is smaller than it was in the 1960s.
Kate, Matty, Zach, Michelle and I tucked into a 1.5 lb barrel of Spudmaster ColossalChips from Bellflower, Missouri. The potato chips were a lovely pressie sent from my lovely friend Steve in St. Louis. Michelle made an exotic lamb stew, we played poker, finished the keg of Brutal, and tucked into the chips. It was a fine night. Picture of our heads buried in the Spudmaster tin will soon follow.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment