Hey P+A!
Thanks for your email.
We miss you both.

The reason this whole week is
called "Buffalo Days" is that,
apparently, the original aboriginal
name for this place translates as
"Pile O' Bones". There must've
been a buffalo jump here in days
gone by.

Saturday night I witnessed the most incredible
electrical thunderstorm ever.
The storm was slow and ever encroaching,
with an overcast sky lit dramatically by
sheet lightning in all directions.
The sky was so electified that the seemingly
synchronized lightning made it seem like
a constant strobe light was going off in the
sky.

(It's getting really hard to breath now, as I write
this, as a REALLY smelly old guy is standing
near me on the computer---GAHHHH!)

Then as the thunder sounded as the storm blew
in from the south. Heavy rain started to fall, drenching
me as I stood outside on our third floor balcony.

Bolts streaked across the sky. No ordinary bolts.
Bolts as thick as a pipe (At least it seemed like
that from my perspective).
Thunder sounded like a 747 landed on our roof.
Whew!
It lasted forever, all through the night.
Quiet for awhile then a reprise.

This is something that I love about the Prairies.

The next morning, nothing, clear skies, warm and
sunny. No evidence of the storm.
And that's just considered normal, folks!

Sunday, there was some sort of picnic/concert/fair
in the park near our apartment.

A band was playing. Covers.

Trooper, Beastie Boys, Van Halen (Jump)
Guns n Roses, Twisted Sister.
No Kidding.