Sunday, July 20, 2025 – Day 341

Sunday, July 20, 2025

Good morning! Welcome to Sunday—and for all you golf fans out there, it’s the final round of the British Open. For those who don’t care about golf… don’t worry, it’ll be over by early afternoon.

Meanwhile, back on the home front, my digestive system has staged a full-scale rebellion… again. We’re talking delays, roadblocks, and—let’s be honest—total gridlock. I had high hopes that with enough fiber and water, and no other “encouragement,” I could keep things moving naturally. But nope. It’s like trying to drive from New Jersey into Manhattan through the Lincoln Tunnel during rush hour: one narrow route, no detour, and absolutely no motion. And there’s just not enough push in the tush to break free from the jam.

It’s my fault. I ignored all the good advice I got last time. Lesson learned: this isn’t a temporary inconvenience—it’s a permanent change to my constitution. I accept it. But in the meantime, I’ve got some internal traffic control work to do.

On Friday, we met up with our go-to partners in crime, Mark and Barb, for happy hour at Cooper’s Hawk. They’re always game for a last-minute outing, which makes them the perfect bar flies in our little social circle. We used the gift card I received during tax season—this one was from the entire AARP Tax-Aide team in honor of my 10-year volunteer anniversary. Very generous and incredibly thoughtful. So if any of you are reading this—thank you again, especially Les and Travis. You guys rock.

As for my reading life, I’m deep—deep—into The Stand (the uncut version, clocking in at a small-novel-sized 467,812 words). I’ve been reading it for just over a week and I’m now less than 100 pages from the end. It’s been captivating, eerie, and disturbingly easy to connect with—especially in a post-COVID world. A mysterious virus wiping out 99% of humanity? Yeah… not quite the fantasy it used to be.

What’s surprised me is how often I mentally wander into the story—imagining how I’d fare, what I’d pack, where I’d go, and whether I’d follow the signs to Boulder or Vegas.

It’s not as terrifying as I expected from Stephen King. Suspenseful, yes—but not the kind of scary that makes you sleep with the lights on. Which means… I might be up for another King novel. Drum roll, please: in walks our neighbor Fred, holding Duma Key. So I might just ride this spooky wave a bit longer.

As for the Prey series by John Sandford, I hit pause mid-Phantom Prey (#17) to read The Stand. In the meantime, my mysterious book gifter hasn’t let up. On Friday, I received Buried Prey (#21), so I’ve got some catching up to do.

Toss in a couple of books from Di Grumhaus, plus Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis (which Tim gave me months ago—I did promise to give it another go), and I’ve got enough reading material to survive a Wisconsin winter… or at least a few weeks of lazy, rainy cabin afternoons. If we get a soggy week up north with the kids, I’ll be fully covered on the book front.

Hope you all have a restful Sunday. And to those watching the Open—may your favorite golfer stay out of the bunkers and your snacks never run out.

Love you guys! ❤️