It's Not Just About Chickens.

You never really know how far you've come or how old you are, until you look back and see the distance.
You see the people standing along the path, signposts and mile markers for your life.
Memories and nostalgia flood the senses and blur the reality of the experience.
Which is likely a good thing.
The past always needs a good coat of gold to ensure it remains as halcyonic as ever.

Had a chance to catch up with Keith Joesel last night after I-don't-know-how-many years and my head was set spinning. Spinning in a good way.
I find myself strangely proud to know Keith. Not sure why really. It can't be due to his political career.
Can it? I mean, Councilmen for District 4 is great and all...

Regardless I did find myself casting back for old memories and life events from ages past, and found lots of goodness there. Stories and yarns I'll spin and weave into the fabric of my future, as I've already done with my present.
I can't count the number of times I've told the Halloween urine bag incident. Or the frequent apple-ings cars and trucks would experience on Route 242. Or Adair's Barrel of Goodies. Or Club Empire in Toronto and almost being thrown off our senior class trip.

Madness and self-perceived glory all wrapped in the shiny package of youth.
Could I use any more ridiculous analogies? Yes. I can.
But I won't.

Here's a playlist for you Keith.
Pop it into the tape deck of your Honda Odyssey (blue Ford Ranger), crank it up to 10, tap the ash of your cigarette into your hand, and drive in silence for a while.
Enjoy.