That's my face in the mirror this morning, a little red and four days of beard whiskering around a very wide grin.
Spent the majority of Monday on the beach with Spitfire and the sisters Schwartz. We did the swings, the slide, the little metal thing you climb on and push and it spins around and you get dizzy and, of course, we constructed one of the world's great sandcastles.
Nan and Elizabeth did most of the planning and construction of the castle, but we all claimed ownership at the end.
We'll be in litigation for years, I imagine.
We're going to meander our way back into Rat City this afternoon, loading up Car 220 with fresh strawberries and asparagus along the way, continuing our study of the seminal works of Three Dog Night and Humble Pie, courtesy of Car 220's four-speaker system, and just watch the world roll by.
Need to take these days when they're given. Gob only knows what's waiting up the road.
Couple of LIT meetings this week and Thursday we're back in Philadelphia for the showing of the Work.
Other than that, chasing paper and scheming for the fall.
Return to Forever's masterwork was Romantic Warrior, I reluctantly must announce. Sorry, Rosie.
The real shame is that the Mystery Prize was $7,000,000 this week.
Seven million dollars.
Thought we'd make it interesting, you know?
Ah. That's a shame.
I'll just put that money back into the imaginary Trust Fund and Museum Endowment account and let it generate some serious interest.
And next year we'll blow it all on hot dogs, T-shirts and candy.
How's that sound?
Enjoy the day, try to catch some sun between the thunderstorms.