Bob and his buddies are seasoned live music aficionados. Back in the day they saw everyone from The Who to Jethro Tull (not a guy named Jethro) to Emerson.
I have a confession: if you bring your children into the store where I work, I may judge you as a parent. I know that I don’t have actual children of my own.
Bob and I have had our share of disagreements regarding the Chicago Blackhawks over the years. We are both fans, don’t get me wrong – they have just been on the periphery of a number of…
So if it was my job to write here, I might have to fire myself. I haven’t even bothered to call in sick or request a leave of absence. I've been completely MIA.
It has been almost a week and I finally be ready to talk about it. The grief that one feels after a loss like this one really requires some time and distance.
Every year our neighborhood has a mass yard sale. We have never been able to participate before, despite all the decidedly yard-salable goods we have amassed.
Since I had any familiarity with men’s underwear, I have been on Team Boxers. I came to accept the inevitability of tightie-whiteys, but they were unpleasant.