March Madness Manifesto

Dear Members and Constituents,
I realize what I’m about to say may be shocking to some of you, however, I don’t get March Madness. I don’t follow college basketball and despite having won money in both of the brackets I entered last year, I decided to quit while I was ahead and not enter any this year. I realize this highly alliterated event is a passion for many of you and I respect that… it’s just not my thing. Perhaps if they drew some inspiration from donuts it might be more appealing to me… Instead of the Sweet Sixteen they could have the dirty dozen (obviously the Sweet Dozen would be ideal, unfortunately it does not meet the alliteration naming criteria)… Fortunately, I have no influence in this sphere. Today, the maddening March traffic has not prevented the timely delivery of some sweet pastry hoops (courtesy of Brent Fontana –donut boy). So come on down, beverage in hand, grab a donut and be careful not to dribble.
Happy Friday!

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Ashes to Ashes

Friends, I don’t know about you, but my household tends to use things a tad beyond their reasonably useful life. Cars, razors, pillows... heck, we squeezed the last BTU out of our home’s 25 year old thermostat —15 years is for rookies. This week we bid our fire pit farewell. Structurally unstable and rusted to the core, this contrivance was well on its way to returning to the soil. Memories of s’mores, cigars and shared spirits come rushing back, as does the six foot tall cardboard peach burned atop it, which caused the first stress fractures in the waning days of 2019. Good times! I suppose nothing lasts forever, but memories can add a sense of permanence to the fleeting. So go, grab a donut and make some new memories!! Happy Friday!

To an end to Covid Games

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BIrds of a Feather

Friends, The early bird catches the worm, however, as the sun rises I’d much rather have a Denver omelet than a diet of worms . Ready to fly the coop, my ducks all in a row, I ponder one more time whether a bird in hand is truly worth two in the bush. Egged-on by my quest to tuck away a nest egg, I’ve decided to change industries and hope that, like the phoenix, my career will also rise from the ashes of change. After all, I’m no spring chicken –my crow’s feet and gray bely my age – however, I have to trust my judgment and believe you can’t catch this old bird with chaff (whether or not folks think me an odd bird for my actions). And so I shall attempt to soar like an eagle, aware that counting my chickens before they hatch would be ill-advised. As I learn to talk turkey in the language of cybersecurity, I will endeavor not to hide my head in the sand, choosing instead to be like a duck – calm on the surface and paddle like hell underneath! And while my excessive use of bird-inspired

Friday Donuts

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