Tom grew up in Milwaukee, bartended in Wauwatosa in the '70s and moved here in 1984.
Commentary, observations and musings about the outdoors, life in general and maybe Tosa politics and personalities will be the order of the day. He savors a lively debate as much as terrific cooking.
I'm still here.
I even pinched myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming.
No earthquake. No rapture. No nothing. Pretty much business as usual.
Although I am feeling stiff and muscle-sore from working in the garden and prepping some wildlife food plots. And that's a good feeling.
I'm glad that the apocalypse didn't arrive as I would have been exceedingly disappointed about getting most of the garden in only to have it snatched-away from my grasp.
Seriously, I wasn't the least bit concerned as I was convinced that all of this talk of Armageddon was overrated.
First, my recollection is that the scriptures instruct us that man cannot predict the arrival of the end of times. So if some nutty preacher insists he knows the date and time - that would make him just another nutty preacher.
Secondly, there was an additional piece of evidence in the tangled and overgrown rose bush along the fence in my backyard.
Mama Cardinal is sitting on her clutch of eggs.
When God's creatures are going about their business sometimes it's better to tune-out the crazy people and take a lesson from them.