Whoa. Who woke up at 8:30 this morning? This guy did. I have to say that I’ve been pretty wiped out this week. The combination of the heat and busting ass to get stuff done has finally caught up with me. It’s cool, though. I’ve got nothing going on this morning, so why not sleep in?

Speaking of getting things done this week. Le Duke and I went to set up the booth at the Clothesline Fair yesterday. While we were setting up, there was this camera crew walking around filming and talking to people, but they didn’t come by to talk to us. I’m not butt hurt about it or anything, we were trying to get the booth set up as quickly as possible so we could get home and work on other stuff. I did have the sneaking suspicion that they filmed us at one point. Turns out I was right. Operation B called to tell me that he saw me on the news. See for yourself, we’re at the 35 second mark. That’s just bad form. To film people and not tell them. It’s just rude. I’m not going to lie, I’ve taken a few photos of people without their permission. Does that make me a jerk?

Answer: Yes.

So, only La Duchess commented on yesterday’s post title. I was expecting more people to try and figure it out, but whatever. The point is, I graduated. From college. For the first and probably not last time. I am now an official Associate of Arts. Whatever that means. I got a letter from the school on Thursday (the really good day) informing that my diploma was ready to be picked up because I had graduated. It is incredibly unceremonious if you don’t walk at graduation. Number one, you get a letter telling you that you’ve graduated. Number two, when you go get your diploma, they retrieve it out of a file cabinet. It is not like some wizened old man is sitting there by candle light writing your name out with a feather quill. It’s printed by a computer somewhere. Is there no magic left in the world anymore?

Answer: Yes.

That magic comes when you slow cook baby brussels sprouts in chicken stock and butter with a dash of garlic salt. That’s magical. It’ll make you Forgeticus all your troubles. Last night I made a chicken florentine casserole with garden rotini and my baby brussels sprouts. I watched a little No Reservations and read “Lucky Peach” for a while. Pancake Land came over for a little bit and after she left, I crashed out for the night. That brings us up to now.

I have no idea what I’m doing today. The original plan was to go see G-Man in Little Rock and watch the Hogs game with him. But he is not returning phone calls. I can’t blame the guy for trying to distance himself from us. Your wife divorcing you while you’re battling cancer will make a man do funny things.

I guess I should figure out what I’m doing. Maybe a hair cut? Not before I poop, though. More soon. ~SC