“I can’t believe you forgot the marshmallows,” my wife scolded me. “And I can’t believe you forgot the friggin’ graham crackers,” I spat back at her. “How do you except us to make smores with only these stupid chocolate bars?” “Well, you’re the friggin’ genus, Mr. Hot Shot, you figure it out.” “Well…Well…” I couldn’tContinue reading “On Rainy Lake”