Hammered for Sloppy Work
My cousin Tony’s visit to our vacation home in the foothills northeast of Sacramento began with a question. As we walked to the airport parking lot, he asked: “Why did you park at an angle?” he asked. “I found this angled corner space where I could back in and watch the car from the lobby and see how our dog was faring in the back.” “Oh.” An innocent enough exchange, one would suppose. But it had started. As we drove up the highway to our foothill cabin, he noticed an orchard
