Homeward Bound

Trevor took the lettering from my exhibition and put it on the back of my truck. As if I don't have enuff problems at the border they are now to think I'm carrying drugs in order to transcend myself. The truck was loaded to the rafters with clay hoo-doo's on Bobby Free's smelly couch cushions. The combination of weight and bad roads just east of Chicago had me blow a hole in the sidewall of my back tire. Luckily, I had just pulled into my motel, had two cans of PBR on board and the tire shop was almost next door.
I dropped by my aunt and uncle's grave on the way home just to have a wee chat. They were fully blown LDS (Latter Day Saints) and I've always been a bit suspicious of how I ended up in the heart of Mormon Land at a 90% LDS school. He always wanted me to move there but coffee, alcohol and not a sweet tooth in my body kept me away from the religion but somewhat spiritual. Hence my little stop to talk with them for a moment.
Their starting me in pottery, buying me books of all sorts, taking me to Shakespearean plays, and being my guiding light keeps me wondering about compost or the after life.
Sour Cherry Pottery is open and looking good. Sheila didn't leave me for a rich man. I've told her before if she leaves me she has to take me with her.
It's nice to home!!!