My Tigers (notice how they're back to being "my" Tigers) have won six in a row. Damn, I'm getting my hopes up. No good can come of this.
I did not talk to my father on this Father's Day. Not because I'm a horrible, awful daughter - but because he was at MIS today watching Dale Jr. win. Not sure how the old man feels about this. Probably just fine. It was Jr.'s daddy he had a tendency to loathe.
I was physically sick to my stomach after I heard about Tim Russert dying. I spent my college years living in Buffalo, NY. I would have stayed in Buffalo after graduation if there was even a glimmer of hope that I could have gotten a library job with a living wage - but alas, it wasn't in the cards. So when I heard about Russert's passing? I felt like a little piece of Buffalo, NY died. The only way I can describe it? I imagine it's what the people of New York City felt like after they heard that Jerry Orbach died. So desperately sad.
I'm probably going to have Sleeping With The Devil by Vanessa Marlow wrapped up by tomorrow. I'm liking it. Quite a bit. And this frightens me given my bumpy track record with the author's Cheryl Holt alter ego. Maybe I should open my front door just to make sure the Four Horsemen aren't standing there? More discussion on this is forthcoming. Promise.