Nunn is waging war on maple trees
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I used to love maple trees, but the love is gone.
I enjoyed kicking around the woods with a thick canopy of deciduous trees above my head. I loved tromping through the woods through a thick bed of ferns, kicking up grouse or rabbit. Sometimes I would walk miles of rolling hills before the ferns popped, often still fiddleheads looking for the elusive morel mushroom.
Maybe I would slip out to some trails in the fall, riding my Big Red or tooling around in my old Dodge pickup. Later in life I would load up the family and just go for drives soaking in the fall landscape and the changing leaves.
Nunn s regular broadcast is interrupted by earworms
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Since I was about 12 years old I have had this radio station playing in my head.
Growing up, my dad was a fan of bands from the era that is now considered “classic rock” and his tastes influenced much of my own musical tastes. We differed on a few things, but overall we could hit the road, crank the stereo and enjoy the same type of music without much disagreement.
I know I was about 12 years old when the radio station started playing because that was when I was given my first dubbed cassette tape The Doors by a grizzly, old and loving biker named Bear. I fell in love with The Doors after hearing them for the first time and I played the cassette until it literally fell apart. I would listen to other music that was on the radio, but The Doors allowed me a magical escape or a “Moonlight Drive” from the real world, which at the time was amidst some turbulence in my parents’ relationship that
Nunn s insanity is further fueled by his cat s actions
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During the pandemic our once two-dog household exploded into a three-dog and three-cat household. This effectively doubled the number of heads in our household to 12 overall, and interestingly enough maintained a 50/50 split on the male-to-female ratio.
Now, I have never been much of a cat person. I mean they are occasionally cute and entertaining, but I have written before that they are so stubborn I am certain they were sent to Earth from the bowels of hell.
Our first cat, George, is a pretty sweet cat. He likes to hop up on my lap twice a day and demands that I pet him. However, I must pet him to his liking or he runs away in disgust. George also has been busted marking on some of the pet beds in our house, despite the fact that he has long been fixed.