Last weekend, three strangers broke into our apartment, placed our kitchen chairs upside down on our table and were chatting in our kitchen but ran out when my roommates got home. Nothing was stolen, but we found a six pack of Wolverine beer in the kitchen.

A gift of leftover lager

After googling the beer to make sure it wasn’t fake, we drank it.

It’s an amazing lager.


A friendly face in an unfriendly town

I have a special relationship with Toledo – specifically, the Cracker Barrel near the Ohio Turnpike. Because I rarely fly home to Washington, D.C., the drive has become a bit of a ritual.

Sporting a Michigan hoodie in that Cracker Barrel always draws looks. They’re furtive, quick, passive, but they’re there. The waitresses smile a little too hard, but the food is hot and the coffee decent. I can handle this. I can handle mom and dad and their ducklings decked out in red giving me looks.

The last time I wandered into my faithful half-diner-half-kitch-peddling establishment, I was feeling horrible. Hung over, bleary-eyed and exhausted. I had nine hours to go. The looks, the looks were there, and I wasn’t in the mood. I should have taken off that hoodie before heading in.

The food didn’t help. I was starting to get simply pissed at the world and all the people in that greasy spoon. You don’t know me! I love Ohio! My family is from Ohio!

As I made my way out, a grizzled man sitting at a table by the door turned to me, revealing the oldest Michigan shirt I have ever seen. He growled “Go Blue” and winked. I nodded, relieved. The drive home wasn’t so bad.


The frisky feline

One night I came home from work at about 3 a.m. and there was a cat with orange stripes sitting in my driveway.

The next day, I found a lost cat poster taped on my mailbox matching the cat’s description from the previous night.

So I called the number and left a message. I didn’t hear anything back for several days.

A few days later, there was a new poster taped over the old one. It was advertising free kittens, and it went on to say that they were orange and striped.

I found myself wondering about the explanation for this peculiar chain of events, but I soon decided that the cat deserves its privacy.


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