I was walking past the mental hospital the other day, and all the patients were shouting, "13...13....13...13."

The fence was too high to see over, but I saw a little gap in the planks and looked through to see what was going on.

Someone poked me in the eye with a stick.

Then they all started shouting. "14...14...14...14....."
................

I skipped the Thursday Men's League Golf Scramble this morning. My ribcage is still tweaked. So it's work and work today, without the three-miles golf walk and/or the convivial stuff that accompanies a half-round with three other men talking about trivial things like food prices, gasoline prices, how-green-everything-got-since-last-week and beer.

Trying to act adult here, I am going to allow the injury to repair itself before I do any twisting with a golf club in my hands.

................
Big Brown, a Kentucky Derby favorite, has the outside post position for Saturday's big horse race. That's the number 20 gate! Oh my, but that far position may change the odds slightly.

I never play the favorite. I won't tell you my picks until tomorrow.

................

Hobbes had a good day yesterday. I see he did some blogging again. He and the other young one, Doobie, are currently playing in the bathroom and trying to get in and out of the sink cabinet doors. Earlier, they were scrapping over who got to capture my wingback TV easy chair.