So Saturday night I’m at the gala-event of East Cross Street when someone comes up to me and tells me to lay off on my council critiques. Later that evening I notice the same patrol car rolling up and down the street four or five times. On my walk home, there are two patrol cars parked directly in front of my house with their lights flashing. Random, unrelated events. On my way to work this morning, the right front tire on my car falls off. A rational person might think someone is out to get me. I thought the same thing until I realized I don’t live in some kind of James Bond fantasy world. Regardless, I’m not leaving the house for a week.

My newfound confinement has given me the chance to fire up the tanks at East Cross Brewing and crank out another tremendous batch of Smeet Frog Cream Ale. With the weather starting to get warmer, the Smeet Frog is getting harder and harder to find. I had some traps set up beneath the bridge over East Forest, but either someone is stealing the frogs I catch or they are getting too smart for my traps. I ended up having to buy Smeet Frog extract at the Ypsi Food Co-Op. I really hate to use extract, but you make do with what you have.

There was a time when we worked with the little league teams in the neighborhood on fundraising. Kids could sell six-packs door-to-door and earn a percentage that went towards new equipment and uniforms. We all thought it was a win-win scenario until one of my neighbors turned me into the Feds. Sure, I may have been violating the Federal Alcohol Administration Act, but it was for a good cause. After fifty hours of community service, I’ve learned a valuable lesson.