“Where the coffee’s hot, the lakes are cold, and all the children are above average.” — Serving the Chain since 1897.
Tuesday, September 22, 2026 · 3 item(s) in this section.
The Klatch · From Eunice
Eunice on the week the year turned over: a coat before seven, camouflage day at the school, a banquet reported secondhand by four men who each had it slightly different, and the pies.
Read the full story →Second Avenue
It leaned against the brewery for thirty-eight days, was advertised four times in these classifieds, and was removed Saturday morning by the man who left it there, who did not know it had become a subject.
Read the full story →Five. Pike fielded a complete girls’ cross country scoring team Saturday for the first time since 2023. It needs seven to be safe.
Thirty-eight days. The ladder left the brewery wall Saturday morning in the truck of the man who put it there on August 15.
One hundred forty-four. Consecutive offensive snaps taken by Jon Sandbo, sophomore center, through three games.
Twenty-eight days. Since measurable rain. The fourth-longest dry stretch in co-op records since 1978.
Thirty-four pies. Pledged by seventeen households for Friday, nine of which have no child in the junior class and four of which have no child in the building.
One. Big Pelican juvenile loons still on the water, as of Monday.
Ninth and tenth. Times Year Fourteen Stout has sold out at Mud Lake Brewing since August 15, both this month. The Martinez truck holds the alley Fridays and Saturdays; Sofia says it runs to early November and Mateo says late October, and the two of them have money on it.
Oven Stew for the First Cold Week. Two pounds of chuck in inch cubes, floured and browned hard in a dutch oven — hard, in batches, do not crowd it, this is the whole recipe. Onion, four carrots, three potatoes, two ribs of celery. A quart of beef stock, a tablespoon of tomato paste, two bay leaves, thyme if you have it and nothing if you do not. Lid on, 325°, three hours, and do not open it at ninety minutes to look. Salt at the end, not the beginning. Better Wednesday than Tuesday.
The Box’s standing request to the truck in the alley was made a fifth time on Saturday and declined a fifth time. The chips remain for everyone.
By Sigrid Pelto. The equinox is this afternoon at about five past one, which means day and night are as close to equal as they get and that from tomorrow the dark has the advantage and keeps it until March. That is the whole of the astronomy this week and I am not going to dress it up.
The harvest moon rises full Saturday evening, about twenty minutes after sunset, and it will look enormous and orange and small in every photograph anybody takes of it. That is your eye, not the moon, and it has been happening to people for as long as there have been people.
Fire signs (Aries, Leo, Sagittarius). Something you argued about in July was settled Thursday in a way that suits nobody and is correct. Let it be.
Earth signs (Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn). Twenty-eight days. Whatever you are watering has already decided. You are watering for yourself now, which is permitted, but know which you are doing.
Air signs (Gemini, Libra, Aquarius). Somebody asked for two and got two. Consider what you have been announcing rather than asking.
Water signs (Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces). One bird. You have been checking and you will keep checking and one morning the checking will be the thing that tells you.
Filed Sunday from the dock, the boards white at seven. It comes out Tuesday.
