Background: My great-grandfather owned a farm in Michigan, which had been passed down the family to him and onto my grandmother and her brother before they had to sell it to a steel corporation (hoorah for the steamroller of progress!). At the time my great-grandfather still owned it, he donated some of the land to the adjacent high school for use as their football field, which they subsequently named after him. That being the case, I recently searched for the high school to see if I could find pictures of the field.

The odd thing is this: The school's address, I kid you not, is 420 High Street. Are you friggin' kidding me? And while I'm at it, I'll throw out there that the town is Potterville. Not so funny on its own, but when you add it to the address, well huh.


last weekend

I've heard the night ice of a frozen lake buckle and contort under its own force, and it sounds like distant caribou.

Here's to things simultaneously added to and checked off from one's list of things to be done.


uh, hey, remember me?

So it's been a while.

I'll be honest, it's because our neighbor's inter--uh, our internet has been extremely sketchy lately, and my better judgment recommends I don't post to my blog at work. Point is, yeah it's been awhile and yeah it might be awhile again. In the mean time, I recommend those who don't mind naughty words but who do mind cuddly animals go ahead and click here. I laughed my arse off, albeit with a slightly guilty feeling.

My goodness this is a pitifully short post. My apologies.

Love, T.M.