Old Thunderfart

I hung out with my good friend Bob last night. Drove to the other end of the county in the kind of slush that likes to lurk in the gutters and reach out to pull your tires into its cold, slimy bosom. Marlon Blando, my Buick, stayed on the straight and narrow and we arrived in good time. Bob has a new website, built from scratch. He's working out the bugs; it works best on Explorer. He's the co-author of the now famous Frog Haiku, a world-class musician, hardcore tornado chaser, and all-around good guy. He has recently gotten into home brewing, and shared with me a bracing pint of barley wine he lovingly calls Old Thunderfart. Sadly, there isn't a label. It would become a collector's item, I'm sure. It was wonderful, so rich I needed crackers to wash it down. Still snowing outside. They say it'll be 40 today, so this will all turn to flooding mud soon and back to normal some time after that. Tomorrow, Friday the 13th, is Boy's first crew meet - on the water - and not a moment too soon. Our dart-flinging weathergirl says it should be in the upper 40's and dry. Perfect weather for riding in a boat skinnier than me on a dark and swollen river with 8 other teenage boys. Nothing could possibly go wrong. This morning Girl is being fitted with a shiny new cast. It'll be her 3rd. This one is for a broken ankle in gym class yesterday. If the pattern holds, next summer she'll get one on the other ankle, and have a complete set. Have a great day!