It is a quiet day, which could be construed to mean boring, in Friendly Manitoba. During the wee hours of the morning, a rapidly moving front rolled across the prairie bringing with in a sprinkle of rain, high winds, a percussion section of thunder, and enough lightening to electrify the laboratory of the maddest scientist. It also brought with it cooler temperatures. The difference between temperatures in the mid to high 90s and the mid to low 80s is staggeringly comfortable.

Unfortunately, Kat’s Mom’s tomato plants didn’t fare well under the siege laid by the high winds. From the frantic call Kat received this morning, I expected to find the tiny garden in shambles when, stakes and hammer in hand, we mustered before Drill Sergeant Mom. The reality was considerably less than the expectation. The vines, thick and heavy with huge, not quite ripe tomatoes, were sagging. I’m thinkin’ they were sagging more from the weight of the fruit than the ravages of the storm.

It didn’t take long to set wrong to right once again. We had brought three or four wooden stakes. Dave had dropped by an equal number of slightly-to-seriously bent rebar. Considering Dave’s profession, blacksmith, and the number of forges, vises, and hammers the man owns I have to wonder why in the hell he didn’t straighten the rebar. Wonder about it is all I’m going to do. I’ve learned not to ask a question unless I’m totally prepared to hear the answer and, with Dave, I’m not sure I want to be prepared. I used to try reading his mind but quickly gave it up as a bad job. It reads a whole lot like a piece I wrote while tossing down shots of Captain Morgan and tokin’ on a pipe filled with some good smoke up from Mexico.

After the tomato plants were securely staked, we were invited in for a cup of tea and some munchies. Mennonite ladies make good munchies; at least the one Mennonite lady, and one former Mennonite lady, with whom I’m acquainted. It was apricot tea and it was nasty. What twisted mind could dream up such a concoction? Still and all, if it was the admission price to get to the goodies, I don’t mind paying it.

We weren’t back home very long when Dave came lurching through the unlocked door. I’m thinkin’ he may have had an emergency as he grabbed the new Canadian Tire flyer off my desk and made a beeline for somewhere in the house. Considering the green fog that soon was clomping about in jackboots, I have a fair idea where he went.

It is a quiet day in Friendly Manitoba. Dave is using Kat’s computer. My guess, he is cruising porn sites because that is the sort of person he is. He would do well to emulate me rather than traveling on the road to perdition that he is. ‘Tis a sad thing when a good Mennonite boy goes seriously bad. Kat is puttering around doing whatever she does whilst her only brother debases himself by wallowing in sinful pornography.

And Buffalo is sitting here thinking about life, its glories and its slings and arrows of outrageous fortune that often come calling.

Life is sweet – even when the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune come calling.