Okay, this is not Howard City. This is 88th Street South of Fremont looking west at about noon last Saturday. I have a thing for airplanes. My wife does too. I still run outside and search the sky for aircraft when I hear engines that don't sound familiar.
I also fear I've written this before. If I have, so what.
Maybe this where people will say "I think the backslide began about the time he repeated himself with that story about the crop duster." This may go down as the beginning, the beginning of his... Memoir Of Sillyness!
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Maybe it is the crop dusting that has messed with your memory? ETW
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