The "Mini" Mission

Written by Uncle George:  May 9th, 1907 Rose before 5:35 am.  Bath.  Breakfast.  Twenty-one meals for $3 and it was good food.  Out about five miles east of Kansas City and made a view of the Big Blue.  Very muddy and sluggish.   Val:  May 9th, 2013 Accidentally ruined The Boy's Boy Scout shirt.  Ate some chocolate fiber.   Listened to Adam Levine.  Felt sorry for the folks in North Dakota. The day started out pretty annoying.  Seth was about two minutes from finally finishing that blasted Eagle Scout Boy Scout program.  So it made sense (not) that I should ruin his very expensive uniform and every single patch on it in the wash. Nice. It didn't have this much bling, but when you have to buy news patches and sew each patch on by hand AND the patches are about as thick as the walls of ancient Troy, you feel irritated.  And when you pull back your hands from your work, your fingers worn to the nub from shoving the needle into those patches, you feel irritated about th

Dear Uncle George, I have decided a state is my nemesis. I don't know Anne Proulx.  Candidly, she sounds kinda of nutty but we should have a conversation.  We seriously have something big in common:  we can't stand Wyoming. Here she is.  We practically look like twins. She writes fictional wild-west tales that include Satan in Wyoming.  You know the one, where the Prince of Darkness is moonlighting as an interior designer, brainstorming the look of eternal damnation. I know what he has gone with...a winter motif.  Lavished in bright red velvet (a given), snow and wind.  Lots of wind. Having been to Wyoming three disastrous times (not including that one visit to an old boyfriend) I can totally believe it. And if by chance, you want to visit Hell on earth, I know the port of entry: Casper (aka The Great Terrible). The answer is Casper, Alex, for $100. My last letter to you included the news that I was going to go back to Casper in February 2016 to photogra