return of the inadvertent guest blogger

I'm not awake enough yet (even though I went to bed at the geriatric time of 9:15 last night) to gush about my delightful, drunken, un-depressifying weekend, so here is another installment from my lil' sis. I think it is pretty self-explanatory.

Mr. Rogers + Bloody Grocer = Marshfield, Wisconsin

Normally I resist the urge to mass-email [Ed: be careful with those mass-emails, little one] articles from my hometown newspaper. But this one is special (special enough to give me a nervous twitch), and I really felt it needed to go to everyone I know.

I now know why I've suffered from shyness and maladjustment these twenty years. You can't grow up in Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood and be entirely stable.

For those of you lucky enough to read previous articles, know that this (almost) trumps Carol Nutter Engelhart's Encounter With Boy Scouts At Lake Okoboji.

Behold "Neighborhoods are source of neighborliness," brought to you by the editors of the Marshfield News-Herald.

PS. To my fellow Marshfieldians: Ask for me this summer, and you shall find me hiding in my basement with a candle and a shotgun.