I need friends that treat me nice. Poke poke poke poke poke. Several years ago my dad had a double lung transplant. The first thing he did when he got out of the hospital was mow the lawn. It gave him this creepy fungus thing that has varred his health since. I garden vicariously for him. Peas and corn were his favorite to grow. We'd plant a long row of peas along the fence between our house and what is now the book store. Those were a good couple years, between 3 and 5, before he left. I sure do like peas. In the next couple of weeks he is dragging his oxygen over and we are going to have a picnic of Sclafani's subs in the garden.

My mother doesn't know my phone number.