Ode to my brother.

Two weeks from today my brother, Chris will arrive in here in Tucson from the cold, frosty north of Minnesota where polar bears roam wild with icicles for teeth and caribou-pulling-sleighs are the only way to get around. Luckily, here in the Old Pueblo we have 100+ degree days cooking up to thaw out Chris’ near frost-bitten digits and return the circulation to his jaw so he doesn’t always look like this. Golly are we happy he will finally be back in town. I have many a hard-labor jobs for low pay to farm out to him in my yard, and every Thursday evening he is going to tell tall tales about the north pole around the agave plant for tips and free sunscreen samples. So I hope you are excited as I am.

Here we are back in the day before we knew we liked chickens.

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