Crabby Summer

First, I was pleasantly surprised to read an editorial in the Star Tribune about bike commuting. Apparently, the Strib editors believe it has been a "beastly summer," difficult for bike commuters. I don't think I'd go as far as beastly. Maybe crabby or flaky.

The farmers have moved in. Ken, the fourth-generation farmer, sold all his cattle except a few, and some folks back at the farm have agreed to feed the last remaining cows. He's truly a farmer, with broad meaty and calloused hands, an aw shucks attitude and a laid back temperament. Liberal to boot. His wife is not your typical farmer's wife, though what the hell is a typical farmer's wife? Law school orientation has started for them and they have their first reading assignments, which they diligently complete. They've already developed that first year law student knack to discuss every small detail of a case, as if it is the most moving case ever read. I'm going to enjoy this, though it's an adjustment to get used to two additional people in my space.