I love my car, but I can't lie, the tire pressure indicator confounds me.
When your childhood bedroom overlooks acres of corn, it stays with you. You can grow up, leave the farm, move to the city and put 31 years between you and the corn fields, but you can't entirely leave them. Corn, it turns out, stays in your blood. Such are my thoughts this morning as I … Continue reading Corny
I like to make up stories about people I observe. This is the first installment of an occasional series about a guy I invented one night at a baseball game.