Had a lovely backyard breakfast with the neighbors this morning, flipping pancakes al fresco (though these days I can't even eat the things) after making a ton of Bob Evans sausage on my own stove to bring out. Lots of kids running about, with chocolate chip and/or blueberry smears across their faces.

Hot weather is descending upon Berea Rose this weekend. That's okay, I got the A/C on (having capitulated to Alane earlier in the week). Da Chimpz just got back from their gymnastics practice. I'll go downstairs and see what they're doing. Had them out front last night to throw the Nerf ball around -- always good for giving me the sore-shoulder for the next few days (but worth it).

Maybe we'll go to Mass this evening so I can spend the morning rolling out the meatballs (as one should spend a quality Sunday morning).

I wonder if Frylock is still singing Morrissey songs to himself? The more you ignore me, the closer I get...

I got a text message from Bazzukajoe the other day asking me why our hapless prez is once again coming to visit Ohio. My response: "He really wants me to be his friend." Which is actually quite a funny response considering there's some truth to it. Steve just now took it even further, crooning over the phone in his best Morrissey warble:

When you sleep
I will creep
Into your thoughts
Like a bad debt
That you can't pay.

Wow! Life has reduced itself to a sad-sack stalker song by Morrissey! Even the preceding line about how "I bear more grudges/Than lonely high court judges" is just a little too close to reality to be coincidence. This guy isn't like a bad debt we can't pay, he is bad debt.

Yes, the pain was indeed enough to make a shy bald buddhist reflect and plan a mass murder.

Went to a high schol graduation party last evening and everything was lovely -- not least because I resisted the urge to provide the putatve college freshman with gratuitous advice about what to expect. "Almost everyone you meet is full of crap," I wanted to say. "And the more authentic they are trying to be, the more full of crap they are." I kept it to myself; she's a smart kid and I tend to think she will figure this out for herself (thus achieving the non-classroom part of her education).

Went to a Mets game Thursday night. What the hell is a National League team from Queens doing in Cleveland anyway? It was a good time. Alane and I tried to remember the last time we attended a Mets game. We're pretty sure it was in 1999 -- a fistful of proofs of purchase from packages of Khans hot dogs got us cut rate seats to Shea on a pleasant summer night before children.

Haven't watched much of any baseball this year. But last night I made an exception. As unnatural as interleague play might be it has brought my hapless Mets into Cleveland to face off against my hapless Indians. So last night I plopped in front of the TV and watched me some game.

And you never saw two teams work so hard to blow the game! Lots of sloppy play, strange ump calls, and vuvuzela-strength-annoying commentary by the local sportscasters. But all in all a good game -- and a Met win!

Gotta wake Da Chimpz soon. School ended last week, so now they go to their day camp over in town. They like it. (Well, except for Mojo who thought it manifestly unjust that they declared half the wet field off limits yesterday even though he was sure there was no mud there. This bothered Mojo greatly and I fear he is becoming radicalized by the systemic oppression.)

Been meaning to give an update on the bacon soap situation -- things are looking up! What first seemed like just a dish of greasy goo has now solidified into something that looks and feels a lot like an honest-to-goodness bar of soap.




Stinks pretty bad. Leaves an yecho film on your skin after wetting it. And has red dye in it, so washing is not exactly what you'd be doing anyway...

But technically, I do think we created some soap here.

Still need to edit down the video for Youtube posting -- not that it's very interesting... Just me standing in my garage mixing caustic chemicals while being mocked by by wife and friends and abandoned by my children.

I got ideas, though. Bacon soap sounds like an excellent Fathers Day gift. Watch your mailbox, Don Vito. The neighborhood dogs are definitely going to chase the local letter carrier.