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Who says science can't provide solace?
Surely this came as a surprise to no one, least of all to anyone who'd seen Sosa as a skinny rookie with the White Sox all those years ago. There was comedic gold waiting to be mined here by digging up Sosa's old quotes about bulking up on nothing stronger than "Flintstones vitamins." But I've been locked in "soapbox" mode all week and was probably more inclined to rant about the unfair, and possibly even criminal behavior of whoever is leaking these test results. (Sosa is not the first to be 'outed'; some fellow Dominican named
But such a week it's been... wedding preparations ramping up, Older Daughter melting down... and, meanwhile, I was busy committing professional suicide. Well, maybe committing professional suicide. I hope not.
And, today, Long Suffering Spouse's college roommate, whom I've introduced here as Penny, will be visiting with her husband and three of her four children. They live in Virginia now, but they were in the Midwest for a wedding of one of Penny's nieces. And two of Penny's children are toddlers -- twins she and her husband adopted as preemies.
That's a wonderful story... but the immediate problem for Long Suffering Spouse is that our home hasn't been 'toddler-proofed' since about 1994.
And Long Suffering Spouse just called to say that our electric is out at home. The lightning storms that woke us up at 3:30 today were apparently mild in comparison to what's roiling over the Curmudgeon home at present.
So, today, instead of a coherent (at least in my own mind) slice-of-life blogpost, there is only this rambling programming note. You'll forgive me now, but I really need to get working on a brief that was due Monday but didn't get written because I was committing professional suicide. Or not.