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Monte, I gotta write you, PI on a rainy Wednesday night, alone at the bar, close captioned basketball (college) on the TV. 6:07 pm. I read white letters in a black box on the screen: "The only thing you remember from 1982 is the money. You and James Dean buried in the backyard." What the hell does that mean? Do you think he meant Jimmy Hoffa? Was back on the Kalakala first time in weeks. Scarfing, grinding, welding, demo. A well-rounded day. Barmaid Heidi is from Uptown [Minneapolis], misses her family. Bud pints 2.25. Dropped $5 on Superbowl pool--hope i win. Tom the furnace installer told me how his wife dreamt of a red dog named Chili Pepper--next day at the pound they found one fitting the description. When he got up to leave Heidi said, "See you, Tom. See you tomorrow." Pinging beertabs into a bucket behind the bar is fun but I don't want to make it a daily habit. Miss you and Kristina lots. [heart] rob
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