Wicked whiskers! The Rays blew it and are no longer #1. After 57 glorious days. I think that from here on out they should continue to win games successively, until my blog is over. Which would be about 68 more days. That should do it.

Okay, rotten headache. Is it, you know, a female thing? Or a barometric pressure thing? Or the incredible combo of foods I managed yesterday?

Happy Father's Day. Mike is a really good father. And he had a really good father. See how that works? I appreciate my dad, too. At church today he said, I opened my present and I was really surprised. I mean, he could tell it was going to be a book and he fully expected a book on golf. Ha, ha. He hasn't read it yet, but he will. Precious little DEWEY.

This is all I'm good for, thanks for hanging with me.

A bowl of oatmeal is sounding like a sensible thing, but bed would be even more sensible.

Summery KEM