No one, not even my dear wife, knows the extent of the wackiness that has
become the new norm in my life. This afternoon I am driving to this small,
family owned grocery store, going back into their meat cutting room with
my hair net, gloves and chef's knife, and cutting the tips off of chicken
wings for my own purchase. Does that sound completely bonkers? The son
of the owner had one condition for selling me wing tips, that I come in
and cut them off myself.

As crazy as it sounds, it really seems like Winter is messing with my life
again. The father and I really hit it off. It almost feels like we're
friends already after two fairly long conversations. It wouldn't surprise
me a bit if some time in the future, I end up working for him.

--B