roho had bought a new verion of "Grand Theft Auto" or what. Finally I just rolled over and went back to sleep. I woke up again about thirty minutes later and felt a great deal more lucid -- for example I remembered I was in my parents' house and not in Illinois. I got out of bed, walked down the hallway to the washroom, made use of the facilities and walked into the living room to see my dad reading the Sunday edition of the Minneapolis Star Tribune. "Sorry about that," he mumbled. I sat down in one of the recliners and started chewing on a chocolate chip breakfast bar. "Sorry about that?" I asked, not sure what he was referring to. "Sorry about waking you up. I was shooting at a squirrel and the dogs went a little haywire," he replied. "I figured that if I used the .22 instead of the 12 gauge they wouldn't care, but I was wrong. They still thought it was time to go hunting anyway."
That's what life on the farm with my family is like, every day.
