“He’s parking behind our garage,” was reported to me from the moomincabin. I could feel a weeeeee bit of outrage building in the reporter. My reaction? I gnoffed and gnoffed and gnoffed. I do not care if my neighbor-cousin parks behind the moomingarage in the winter. We aren’t there in the winter and if parking there makes his life a bit easier, it is A-OK with me.

That vee-hickle is his second vee-hickle. I’m not sure how often he even uses it. His main vee-hickle is a big utility van that he uses to travel to and from construction jobs (drywall is his specialty), picking up and dropping off employees who don’t have transportation along the way. That’s business in the yooperland. At least my cousin’s business.

I love all of my cousins, FinFam and MacMu. This guy and I have had a rather special relationship. The first time I remember interacting with him, I was three and he was six. We were in the back seat of our grandaddy’s Studebaker. Our dads were also in the car, Jack and Duke, man’s men, WWII pilots. We had taken a little trip along the shores of Gitchee Gumee to obtain some smoked fish from the reservation. My cousin and I both loved fish and we had a “fight” over who got to hold on to the package of smoked fish. He and I are not totally alike but we are kindred spirits and not only because we both like smoked fish.

The car in the pic is his mother’s car, a Honda Accord. That would be Radical Betty’s car. I was kinda gobsmacked thinking about how old that car must be since Radical Betty died in 2009 and I think she bought it (new) a few years before she died. Biden is not the only person who has trouble dredging up significant dates when blindsided by a question.

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