Nights on the farm were pretty slow and nice. Paul finished a Hemingway classic read aloud to Sarah and played Bocci Ball with Grand kids. Peter, you will be happy to know that I was schooled by this little nine year old ringer. We could take him back to the park blocks and hustle some old Italians. Remember that time we convinced that kid at the Mariners game that Ichiro actually was better at bocci ball than baseball? Sipping homemade sherry out of little glasses was fun. However, small bunks are not condusive to spooning.
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