These Are The Times That Fry Mens' Souls

Hey everyone!

I hope the relative of Thomas Paine don't sue me because of that subject line.

Ahhhh yes, these are the times that fry men's souls, when the grass begins to impale your feet, and you long for that cold blast of freezing rain that comes with November.... okay, so maybe not that last one.

But alas! There's not much time left to perfect that farmer's tan that I've been nurturing all summer long. Regrettably, my tan lines have yet to reach the truly horrid contrast that I was aspiring to when the sun soaking season began a few months ago. However, there is a tanning place in Madison advertising "tan lines optional" tanning, so, I think I may have a solution. I'm just going to get up one morning, put my usual shorts and a t-shirt on, and then go jump in a tanning bed for a few hours. I figure that this will give me the tan line definition I've been searching for.

During my (eternally) continuing job search, I've been working at a fastening supply warehouse in Madison. I enjoy getting completely filthy and then running errands, looking like I recently emerged from an extended stay in a gulag.

My car was nearly stolen recently... or so I thought. I had parked my car out in front of the warehouse that morning, but suddenly, out one of the side doors, I saw my car being driven up onto a flatbed truck. Thinking that I had few seconds to spare, I yelled "For the love of all that is good, holy, and moderately priced! Grab your nail guns and follow me!". Fortunately, before I could carry out the surprise attack to recapture my car, I discovered that my car was still parked out in front of the warehouse. Sheesh.

I'm running off to Quebec with the fam this Wednesday. A couple of weeks ago my parents decided to go their for a vacation, and made the mistake of asking my brother and I if we wanted to come along. However, I imagine they have an ulterior motive of using me as "Peter, the not so Pocket Translator" while I'm up there. This does have the added benefit of allowing me to phrase things in a much more diplomatic way than if my parents and the natives were having direct communication (smile!).

Really though, I hear that everyone up there is bilingual to an insane degree, so I may only end up saying things like "I'd like that croissant (ho ho ho) please".

We'll be in Quebec city and then Prince Edward Island for a bit (any fans of Anne of Green Gables?).

How are all of you? I hope you're all doing wonderfully! Perhaps we should try to schedule a little alcohol drenched reunion one of these days?

Take care!

Peter