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I hate peas. I hate their texture, quasi-deflated soccer balls rolling clumsily hither and tither on your plate. I hate their smell, sweet but pungent. I hate the way they all look when they’re standing in a group, staring up at you like orphaned brussel sprouts. I hate peas. But more than anything, I hate…
“Ticket Punchers” the man in the red shirt says. His name is Jim and he’s been working at Ralph’s grocery store for what probably seems like or could actually just be, the last 20 years. He has greying hair, a slight pot belly and a constant quirked eyebrow. Jade scans groceries; one ear of corn,…
A little help from dad. And yes, I secretly think that my little man is the most handsome baby alive.
Being home is much more naustalgic now that we’re old and have kids of our own. So in honor of their first trip back to South Dakota we decided to take the kids to the old shop that their Great Grandpa Orval used to run. It also happens to be the place where I shot…
