This Sunday evening finds me quite ill with fever and about seven photos on my phone.
I will be forced to bend the rules and pretend that all of these pictures came from the week.
Which ones did not?
You be the judge.
My son made my wife a "dime-in" ring.
Illness forced me to miss a wedding on Sunday, but I did attend this one on Saturday afternoon.
Here comes the bride....
Needless to say it did not turn out in marital bliss.
More like dog pile on the rabbit.
When you hop in your golf cart to play eighteen holes and it is numbered thirteen, get ready for an ugly round.
This sign is mounted in front of my parent's home. Benbrae was the name of my grandmother's beagle kennel.
My wife returned home from Baltimore one night to find this cut into a pumpkin by the front door.
I feel bad about her missing her friend's wedding on my account, so I am in a sappy mood.
Here she is.
For the first time, my son and I had a baseball catch in which he regularly caught the ball. I still get teary-eyed at the end of "Field of Dreams" when Costner says to his father, "Hey, Dad. You wanna have a catch?"
The scuttlebutt at work is that my division is moving to a new location about four miles away. Whatever happens, it is imperative that the shoeshine box comes with us. Shining your brogues seems to wipe stress and worries away.
I'll leave it with the Lego Maniac and another of his creations.
I will catch you next week in better health.
After all, I have the strength of ten men.