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With the arrival of the house on the trailer there were five fish houses in our little village. The houses tend to clump up wherever someone plows a trail. The guy who owns this place has a plow on one of those trucks and maintains the road himself.

Jim went over to see if we could come in for a look, which of course I wanted to do. It was at least a couple feet longer and a foot or so wider than Jim's, and attentively appointed inside including a generator for the satellite TV for watching non-stop sports, finishing for the fish holes, and a thick rubberized floor over the plywood.

Four big guys were in there, smoking and drinking, and going in was like entering a smoke house. Yikes. They wouldn't have to cook fish, just leave them out. They hadn't yet made much of a dent in those two cases of beer...
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  HomeUSA the Middle • Minnesota • '11 Feb: St Paul, MN, and Ely  





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