Smalltown Café, Farming in the Forties, and Breast Cancer

Where we lunched on mainstreet Wadena

The new owners put on a noon smorg several times a week, and Scott filled his plate twice, then spooned up a bowl of butterscotch pudding before finishing off my toasted denver sandwich. The boy is an eating machine. I rarely go up for the smorg; I don't eat enough to make it worth my while. Besides, you can't go wrong with a denver sandwich. Can you?

Actually you can. I once ordered one in a restaurant while travelling, and there was so much short, coarse black hair in it that I sent it back and left the place with a turned stomach.

Perhaps it was the same place Doc and Morgan had such a horrid experience in.

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At the bottom of the page is a list of some of my favourite websites. Under each section, the most recently updated title usually rises to the top.

A couple examples:

You can read excerpts from Bill Nevard's 1940 journal, here • Nevard Blog.

Then there's my buddy Kathy down in the Minneapolis area, who has just gone nine rounds with breast cancer. She's recently home with perky new boobs, or "foobs," as she calls them. She's shared the whole shit show with her readers, laughing (and cringing) all the way, at • Kitchen Blogic.
If you know someone who's been diagnosed with breast cancer, Kathy offers some advice for helping your friend get through the experience. There are some things you shouldn't say or do, and some you should. Kathy tells you which is which.