Pete Rose Cardboard Belly Grass-Sliding

Charlie Hustle

Charlie Hustle

 

As I’m writing this week’s story, we’re down south at our Phoenix home.  Our house sits on a corner lot within a baseball’s throw of a small town civic center.  The cross street that our house parallels must be directly on the route to all of the local schools because the buses all stop at the corner, just outside our front door.  Through my kitchen window, I have a direct view of all of the kids and their morning antics.

The high schoolers are boring.  They arrive, they try to act cool and nonchalant, they don’t interact much with each other.  They’d rather be anywhere than where they are and if they didn’t, they certainly aren’t going to show it to their peers.  The elementary kids aren’t much better.  They all act like a bunch of kids (the nerve of them).

The junior high kids; now there’s where the action is.  Continue reading

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