Frankly speaking

The rain was torrential last Friday. Morris made the local Chicago news with an accumulation of 4.5″ of rain. Nothing like a big rain to pinpoint exactly where your gutters are blocked. More rain coming next Wednesday. I bet the farmers love it up to a point. Here in Flatland this time of year, you can drive down any rural road around here and it’s beans and corn, corn and beans. Corn stalks this year are quite tall. There is no wheat, no barley, not even sunflowers. Just beans and corn, corn and beans. Morris does, however, have numerous roadside stands selling sweet corn (of course) and tomatoes and other vegetables AND we have a medical marijuana store right near the golf course. The Greenhouse is in a former classy restaurant. Never been to the Greenhouse, don’t plan to go.

I gotta tell ya this: It was Friday night. The Cubs were playing the Cardinals. I was at my computer desk and I could hear the crowd noises in the living room where my wife was watching the game on TV.

“Score?!”

“Three.” That was the answer I got. What the hell kind of score is “three?”

“What do you mean THREE! There are two teams playing. How can the score be three?”

“The game is tied.”

It’s stuff like this that keeps us together.

There are three empty kegs and a keezer that should be cleaned out before the weather turns to shit again. I have a grandson that goes back to school on Wednesday. If I can get him to do most of the work on the keezer, I could spent time on the kegs. Afterwards we’ll get ice cream and then go ogle the babes down by the river.

All of my plans have fallen through. All of the kids have moved out and Mama and I have gotten old. We have become the best of friends.

Thanks for stopping by.

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