Pork chomps on the barbecue.  MMMM.

Mike phoned me from Wreck Beach yesterday to say dreamily, and with pretty obvious background noise, where he was.  After I quit maligning the quality of his parents nuptial bond, I had to admit he was one lucky chump.

After NCIS (Abby-centric episode yay) Keith, brooking no nonsense, hauled me out to the pool and held my head under until I did a couple of laps.  My foot feets much better this morning.

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Born when atmospheric carbon was 316 PPM. Settled on MST country since 1997. Parent, grandparent.

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