It's late. I shirked my bloggidy duties to watch our Minnesota Vikings trounce upon the Packers, who hail from Green Bay. There was grunting. Men were piled upon each other at least five high. The ball was passed, run, kicked AND punted. And when the final canon sounded, it set off a hearty echoing round of 'Skol' to be heard 'round the state.
I watched the first half from my Dad's house with the girls minus Jen. He made a fantastic penne with vodka sauce. The girls were rather needy and cranky with a fair dose of tantrum in the mix.
It's been all of one day, and my rain barrel is full already. Full, I tell you! Of water! Please help yourself to a gallon or twelve if you find you've wandered into Powderhorn and are in desperate need of rainwater.
Day two hundred and forty one.
Jen loves the cat. The cat wants to eat Jen's nose off.
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