So Leigh was rerouted to GRR. That’s Grand Rapids. To the south. 150 miles or so. I got up early and got on the road down there by 8 a.m. The roads out of Lake Ann were covered with snow, but packed down enough so you could grip the stuff.

That changed when I got out onto the bigger roads.

And, for the next 165 white-knuckled miles—without letting up whatsoever—it was a blizzard wrapped in a hurricane wrapped in a windstorm with a black ice topping.

Fuck.

I got down there, grabbed the girl, and made an executive call to head east to Lansing, partly to escape the snowstorm, but mainly to go record shopping at Flat, Black and Circular. I picked up a pile of cool stuff. Dale and Mark’s old stomping grounds. From all accounts, they were like, Mayor and Culture Commissioner of East Lansing. Or something.

Gripped. The whole time. Whole way there, and back. Great day, shot to shit.

Slicker than cat shit on a linoleum floor. Man, I hate cats.

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FROM SUNDAY’S POST: Right to the source. Honest Ed’s in Toronto. Canada: Strange and wonderful place. Make sure you read Ed’s articles of awesomeness. There you go. Sounds pretty good to us.

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AND THAT’S THAT: Pants are off. On the couch. Warm. Doing nothing. Done.