“This is one time where television really fails to capture the true excitement
of a large squirrel predicting the weather.” – Phil Connors, Groundhog Day
It was just one of those days.
Dad’s closest friend called. He’d just totaled his wife’s brand-new car. My five-year-old son was complaining that one of his legs was hurting. The old Jeep Cherokee-turned-snow-plow was having trouble starting and it was snowing. And not just regular snowing. It was of the bend-over-and-how-do-you-like-that? variety.
Our family only knows one way to deal with such trying circumstances. “Did somebody say ‘tequila?’”
Drinks started flowing early, because: Suck it, snow.
Last-minute preparations were being made for the annual Super Bowl party. It’s kind of a big deal. Dozens and dozens of people because my father is one of the few people on the planet who builds not one—but TWO—pretty massive bars on his property.
View original post 795 more words