Sunday, June 09, 2013
I am Tiredacus
It is on my radar as a B-Day present to myself.
I tell myself, turning older does have some rewards . . . looking on the bright side.
It’s, as it says on the box, a game of blood and treachery. Certainly a game that needs the right players to appreciate all the back-stabbery without getting personally hostile.
I have a few people I can game with that will really like this one - I think.
Anyhow, it would seem my throat infestation has finally screwed off - thank goodness. It was really getting me annoyed after hanging around for over two weeks.
And with that, here is another YouTube offering . . . if you watch those kind of things.
I speak briefly about one of my favorite TV shows.
Here it is: 1 in 4, Episode 4
And no, I have not hit the tennis courts yet. I’ve been lazy and have not found a brace for my ankle yet, which is better but still not trustworthy for tennis without support.
I really need to do that. Maybe this week . . .
So yesterday I was really looking forward to our reading night - when we get together with friends and read something we have written . . .
. . . but it was not to be. We had scheduled in the daytime to go and visit our daughter at her music camp and the timing got all screwy on us.
You see, a bus was supposed to come pick us up and take us there - one of those nice coach types.
It did not arrive.
We, the waiting parents, were not amused. We were informed that an “error” was made and another bus was on the way.
So we waited some more . . . for a total of almost two hours.
And what shows up - a yellow school bus . . . I kid you not.
So my wife and I and about six other couples said, screw this, and decided to drive up ourselves, which we did.
The drive was almost two hours and all worked out okay in the end, except we did not arrive back home until after nine.
And we were beat.
There is always next month’s reading night to look forward to - and I may even convince a friend of two to do some board gaming in between.
We shall see . . .
Until next Sunday . . .