TGIF!

First week back at work has been a bit rough. I can hang in there until the afternoon, when I suddenly find that I am dead tired. I pack up for home, bringing some work with me, but all I'm capable of doing is lying flat on my back. I've managed to knit a bit, and twit a bit, but that's it.

Came home last night to find TWO mourning doves in the house. They were fairly friendly little buggers, but one of the two was hard to catch and release. Mourning doves really are the dumbest animals on the planet, so opening wide doors and windows adjacent to their location is generally not enough to chase them back out again. The also are surprisingly resilient, even when they keep crashing themselves into walls, ceilings and windows. Here one perches on the hood above the stove.

Sad news this week for Angels fans - rookie pitcher Nick Adenhart was killed by a drunk driver a few hours after his first start of the season. Adam over at The Hater Nation raised an interesting point - even though Adenhart's life was cut short, even at age 22 he had realized his dream of being a major league pitcher.

If you were able to choose the manner of your own natural death, what would it be?

I read a few years ago about an old duffer who shot his first hole in one, and then promptly dropped dead on the golf course. I wouldn't mind being 86 and still out with my old lady friends playing a round of golf. If it was my time to pass, dropping dead after hitting a hole in one isn't too bad a way to go. Granted, you would miss the bragging opportunity, but you know there are some golfers in the after life who would be willing to listen to your tale. And you'd get out of buying everyone a drink in the clubhouse . . .