You just have to have lived here for awhile.
Uh-oh, Tom Waits. What had been perfect musical accompaniment on a cold, rainy night last week seemed jarringly out of place on a soft spring evening. Of course, Tom Waits can be jarring anytime. There was an amusing incongruity, however, in hearing him croak about something being as cold as a gut-shot wolf-bitch with nine sucking pups pulling a number 8 trap up a mountain in a snowstorm in the dead of winter with a mouthful of porcupine quills. Now that’s cold. And that’s probably the forecast for next week.
Cold wind, rain and 11 inches of snow in Brainerd.
High of 30.
Who needs Paul Douglas?