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Charlie and Papou, one year later.
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I met J. for the first time seven years ago today. There have been some great highs and some really low lows, but we’ve made it through them all together.
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In which Charlie learns that rubber bands are not toys for kitties.
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All dressed up with no place to go.
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When you get 18 inches of snow in one day, this is how you plow the streets.
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J. got me a backgammon/нарды board that matches our living room decor. Gonna have to develop some serious skills before I play any Russians.
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Post snow-blowing breakfast: two egg & cheese omelette and six ounces of blackened catfish.
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I miss you, Pa.
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Picked this up yesterday. It’s a documentary record made in 1966, recorded live in Vietnam.
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Sunday afternoon, spinning vinyl with Tim. Up first: “Death Might Be Your Santa Claus,” a collection of sermons, blues, jazz, gospel, and devotionals from the Twenties and Thirties. Prominently features the stylings of Reverend J.M. Gates.
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Snowfall!
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FIRST SNOW!
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This classic treat is mandatory here in Wisconsin and over in Minnesota this time of year.
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I love finding new spots like this in town.
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Waiting.
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I’ve always been a big fan of mercury glass, so I’m really enjoying the mercury glass tree we added to our decorations this year.
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The tale of my last 24 hours.
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Tree’s lit, Christmas mix is on shuffle, currently playing Marvin Gaye.
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Next year we’ll try just the rooflines.
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We decided that we’re going to add some lights in the windows, but we’re trying to keep it tasteful.
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Christmas Greyhound.
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Tonight J. told me I can buy a retired fire truck from my dad’s fire department if I can afford the price the department is asking.
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Lincoln Park, St. Charles, just prior to the Electric Parade.
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Nike has reached maximum fun at The Annual.
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