Steve, when the hell are we going fishing? I'm currently in the great Northwoods of Grand Rapids, Minnesota hanging out with a smokin little Lass who is trying to keep me grounded. It's so simple up here, hundreds of very cool lake houses on the numerous lakes here, frozen drizzle coming down, dozens of ice fishing houses full of schnapps sucking grumpy old men trying out their new jigs which they were blessed with from Santa yesterday, and the touch of a wonderful woman who finds great adventure in hanging out without real estate selling former flyfishing ski bum from Eagle, Colorado....it's pure bliss. Staring out the picture window of her place at Little Jay Gould Lake, covered with snow and through the birch, pine and poplar...hell, I've died and gone to heaven. Last night while over at some new friends home whom I met yesterday, we drank and chatted about a bit of everything good in Cohasset. The best and loudest laugh was reserved for a story they told me of the Nativity scene which was reproduced at the local church to celebrate the Christmas spirit. The locals somhow secured a REAL fucking camel to make the scene authentic. And when the Camel exited the church when his part was over, his hump caught on the electric EXIT sign and ripped it off the damn wall. I nearly pissed myself at the visual as we were all well into the wine at that point. Spending time amongst these "regular" people is so grounding, makes me realize that the Wendy's and Larry's of the world must be living a wonderful life up there in Hayward...they just need a Camel.
Electric Snowcat
9 hours ago
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