...means that you keep the ball at your feet until the ref TELLS you to stop. And I've been trying, but this weekend was almost insanely busy, between work work and DIY home-improvement work. And the new deck (note partially completed deck - it's now at 90% and we're just waiting on the footing inspection.
And then there's the whole "laminate floor the entire front of the house in two days" thing.
I'm whacked. I do want to get back to regular blogging soon. Maybe tonight...
Just a couple of quick notes:
1. Welcome back to the Land of the Big PX, Millicent and Floyd! Welcome home!
2. You folks who read this blog know that my opinion of Mr. Bush and his cronies couldn't be lower if they were caught sacrificing babies and using the blood to write op-eds to the Washington Post lauding the power of the Executive branch. And usually I have a soft place in my heart for anyone else who shares my loathing and contempt for this smirking little man and all his works. But, sorry, Diego, you are one seriously whacked out dude. And it's sad, because you were a brilliant player once. Now, even your countrymen think your head is toasted by all the Peruvian marching powder you've ingested, as the cartoon below indicates...
Back soon - I promise.