I'm crabby. For multiple reasons. I still have pole burn. My fingers are cramping from tying four hundred and seventy two tiny black bows on wedding programs and menus. Worst. Period. Ever. I figured out I can't fit my entire fist in my mouth. I can only make it just…
Even More Farm
We poked around the old corn crib, commenting on the giant John Deere which had been reclaimed by the land. I tried to imagine a mini Kegger tearing through the fields, stopping only to lick the "clean" areas of the cow licks. (Yes, those would be the same areas that…