Let’s start with a burning issue.
Leigh Ann Smith said her dad, John Goodwin, deserves to be crowned the Firewood King of the Inland Northwest.
“He is always looking for more,” she said. “He is never happy with just enough wood for him and his family. He must always have extra. He cannot say ‘No’ to wood.”
Goodwin, who lives south of Cheney, is described by his daughter as “a farmer by day but woodsman by night.”
She is not the only one who thinks he deserves the honorary firewood-royalty title. His ex-wife does, too.
“Every weekend in the fall and winter is spent collecting wood,” wrote Brenda Goodwin-Winn.
When they were married, she sometimes referred to herself as a “wood widow.”
But she’s pleased that he is now teaching “the art of wood” to their grandchildren, who call Goodwin “Grandpa John Boy.”
“I always admired John’s work ethic,” she said.
Quite a few readers remember the old Kellogg football field: “A sea of mud,” said Alice Williams.
Charlie Greenwood’s ruling: “A winery should be located within sight of the geographical feature it’s named after.”
Say what: I’ve mentioned a few of the antics of a little boy named Trevor. He’s the kid who won a quarter from me when he managed to stay up past midnight last New Year’s Eve. He was probably hopped up on leftover Christmas candy.
Well, his night owl skills might be impressive. But he’s still got a few things to learn.
On a brisk morning just the other day, he stepped outside and declared that he could see his “air.”
“Breath,” his mom corrected.
Undeterred, he went on with his personalized weather report. “I feel like Jack Freezer,” he said.
His mother asked if by any chance he might mean “Jack Frost.”
He thought about it for a second and then admitted she was right. “Yeah, Jack Frost.”
I might still resent losing money to this kid. But I have to admit he’s pretty honest.
Today’s Slice question: If you were a high-profile organized crime figure, what would you want for a nickname?
(“The Marmot” is taken.)