[Griff]

I was sitting in the parish hall at a masonite table, calmly quietly arranging my plate of food in a pleasing manner amid the clatter, hustle, and bustle of a church fund raising dinner. Clint Eastwood, old Clint not young Clint, approached me from across the table, "Do you know the way?" I reply, "I know my way." Clint is pleased with this answer and we go back and forth for a few minutes. He then asks, "Have you read Nietche and _____?" I reply that I have no interest in philosophers. Clint gets visibly upset and stalks away. My zen state collapses and desperate for his approval, we switch roles, I approach him as he sits eating an arranged but unappetizing monochrome plate of hotdogs and sauerkraut. I try to gain him back but dig a deeper and deeper hole for myself.

Then the phone rings waking me up very early this morning, a Saturday. Its my Dad, he is trying to call the tire shop about the tractor tires we're having foamed, but they are not answering the phone. I calmly tell him that it is Saturday and they are not open yet. Thanks Clint.