Peggy and I live out in the country. As kids we would have referred to our area as the boonies or sticks. Given that we have a million acres of trees in our backyard, “sticks” seems particularly appropriate. Needless to say, things move more slowly here than they do in the city.
Yesterday we went to one of our areas major annual events, Buncom Day. As one might expect, there was food, old cars, musicians, a parade and ghost hunters. So what if the parade was only a half block long and was repeated four times. As for the ghost hunters, Buncom is an Old West ghost town, so naturally it has ghosts. What else would you expect? I was even privileged to listen to the voice of a ghost that had been recorded in one of the town’s three remaining buildings. He was upset that someone would want to…
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