I spent the weekend sleeping off a Homecoming-sized hangover, where no alcohol was involved, and I was only vaguely aware of the weekend which didn’t give me many stories to tell this week.
The road trip to Canadian on Friday was nice. I mean, it did take a little over three hours, but I kept reminding myself when, back in the day, the speed limit was 55 mph, and the same trip would take like two days, with a half dozen more pit stops.
It’s homecoming week, and in the community newspaper world, it means I’ve been strolling down my particular memory lane through honest-to-God newspaper clippings and yearbooks.
Right behind the smell of hazelnut coffee and citing Infowars or Occupy Democrats as a news source, my biggest pet peeve is weathermen and women who feel they must stand in the torrential rains that follow a hurricane in order to adequately portray the seriousness of it.
When I hear someone complain about the taste of the local water these days, I turn into my cranky grandpa and say “you big sissy. You obviously didn’t live through the the horrible, awful putrid summer of 1970.”
