Lips and Lagers

Squid Lips

My walks down life’s roads have taken me many places. I lived on a kibbutz in Israel and harvested grapefruit when I wasn’t shoveling out chicken houses. I was in the Philippines in the Air Force, spent my freshman year of college in California before graduating from the University of Iowa, and worked in an officer’s club in Germany. I’ve hitchhiked all over the country, I milked an English Bulldog once, and also hit myself in the head with a baseball bat.

So just a couple of days ago I found myself in Florida having lunch at a joint call “Squid Lips,” and I thought, how did I end up here?

I found myself accidentally stumbling into introspection there at good ol’ Squid Lips, and then I fought that off. Introspection slows me down. And I was left with deep philosophical questions as I sat there, namely: why do my cars’ windshield wipers always wear out on the exact sight line that I need to see clearly, and why do birds of all varieties always crap on that same sight line?

And then I ordered another Sam Adams Boston Lager.

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