Sunday

Sunday

Howdy.

It's been most likely the prettiest weekend I've seen around these parts since the turn of the century. I've managed to spend the great deal of it away from work and out enjoying the sunshine. Except for a sorrowful moment of intense pain, where I found myself sideways of a wasp for stepping on him with my sandals, it's been a good couple of days.

And I tells ya brother: I needed it. The little bit of sunburn on my brow lets me know that there's something more than fluorescent lights shining on this world.

It's my sister's birthday today. She's 112, and she's creeping up on that "World's Oldest Person" title. I've had a belief for many years that somebody was killing off the World's Oldest Person--not long after receiving the declaration most have the awful luck to die. I could think of no other reason for such a series of events than foul play. Seriously--if one 115-year-old person dies, that's one thing. Even if three of them die. But looking back over the course of this blog, something like 27 World's Oldest People have died.

I suspect foul play.

Actually, she's 26, which means she's roughly 21.5 years older than my blog. I'll bet you that particular thought will leave you staggered for the rest of the week.

Anyway. We're going to her favorite restaurant tonight (The gas station close to her house, the one what serves the potato wedges). Which is cool, because I like potato wedges, too.