I’m not really sure if I can attribute a precipitous drop in creativity to my mere 45 years on the earth, but I can certainly foment a personal paranoia about it. This is partly because I extruded some coffee out … Continue reading
Looks like a certain angling sychophant turns 419 years old today. I think that merits a sub-standard water and a clappy, one-off birthday call-and-response at Red Robin. Good book, by the way, no matter what Norman McClean’s dad says.
My Dear Lucy, I wrote this story for you, but when I began it I had not realized that girls grow quicker than books. As a result you are already too old for fairy tales, and by the time it … Continue reading