Spent the weekend playing Softball in Fairbury. The town holds dear childhood memories for me from when I used to visit my grandma and granddad. Anyway, I was down there with family on what had to be the most picturesque day, walking along the brick streets of the town square, checking out the flea market, cheering for the parade with leaves blowing and flags upon flags upon flags blowing in the most perfect wind. In light of the recent happenings, I felt as if nothing could ever go wrong in the home of the Jeffs and Fairbury Brand hotdogs. It was true small town right down to the Saloon where we spent most of the evening. Yes, the word "Saloon" was actually painted on the building. Lathen and I immediately made many friends at the bar, including owner, Mr. Tooley, and Lathen was content there with his NFL games on TV, pack and a half of Marlboro reds, endless supply of So-Co, and bookie sheet on the bar in front of him, even when I left with my Aunt Kat to talk and walk slowly through the antique shops. Our conversation turned to, what else, but fate, and I'd like to share a quote from her... "Thanks to fate, nothing you do is wrong". I liked that. Maybe because it rectified the guilt of my endless list of wrong-doings; most of which I've quite enjoyed. absorb.. with limitations.