I sat on a curb today having walked the length of the Farmer's Market and picked up a jar of honey, eaten local chicken, and sipped a limeade. The topic of conversation was that there was something irritating about every place we could think of to go, and that there weren't enough choices. Of course, that's an expectation that this town that thinks it's a city should supply for us. I'm not likely to start a restaurant just so I can eat in it, or a brewery just so I can drink at it, or an outdoor patio just so I can enjoy the incredibly nice day and have someone serve me. What I can do, however, is sit on my own porch and sip a beer or soda I purchased and be satisfied with it. It's better than going somewhere and complaining about the lousy selection, when all I really want is one thing that I'm capable of providing myself.
Sometimes it's pretty easy to forget.
Photo on auto-flash taken toward the sun in the shadow of a sign.
The last day of mad-libs and the word is: track
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