I awoke to a rowdier bunch than usual this morning. Apparently, our annual beach Miller Lite marathon has been upped to an Olympic-level competition.
On my first cup of coffee, Nancy, Burt and Beth were on round three of planter's punch. It wasn't even 10 am yet. With the news from the day before and an impending viewing and funeral, the crew had gotten an early start on letting loose.
Joining the game late, I threw my hat in the ring with screwdrivers. By about 1 pm I was screwdriven. And DQed. Put to bed at 2:30 in the afternoon, I made several attempts to re-rally, one including topless sunbathing. Oh the horror. I wonder if they'll make that an event in London 2012.
I awoke to a dark sky and personal haziness. Nancy had taken the gold medal. Burt and Rebecca rounded out the medal contention. I am getting old. What a cheap date I have become. God bless it.
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