Every so often, my mom sends me these care packagey stuffed envelopes, hermetically sealed with half a roll of packing tape, full of news clippings and Cathy cartoons and little "happies."

Thanks, Mom.

Tonight, while Erik made dinner, I stood in the kitchen and read to him all about Life in Washburn, ND, and how Vivian's phone number is taped to the front door of the museum if one wanted to arrange a special tour of the two buildings in the off-season (read: when it's COLD). I used to work at the Historical Society, so I know all about Lawrence Welk. Ask me anything. I read, out loud, all of the editorials, the columns, explained the location of the new bus barn at the high school, and about Dusty, Trav's childhood best friend, being somebody's best man.