I'll huff and I'll puff...
The winds blew. Hard. I sat in the Wallyworld parking lot watching shopping carts, sans shoppers, streak by. I was there because I didn't want to go back to the field where tarp tents and signs and garbage cans and netting and air ball bunkers were gathering and spinning in the center of the speedball field to discuss their Kansas getaway. Some might wonder why I wasn't rushing back to try and stop them.
Ten fingers and ten toes. Imagine a dike leaking from forty three places.