Good morning, world. What kind of day is this one going to be? It’s cool to start and that’s good. Maybe I’ll mow the lawn and maybe I won’t. I’m still trying to get my hands on the video of the Celtics game the other night when the Celts staged a historic comeback from being 24 points down in the finals against the Lakers. All those damn games are scheduled for 9pm. That works well for the folks on the west coast but we east coasters got screwed. Who the bejeezus can stay up that late to watch a basketball game? Since the Celts were down by 20 at half time, 95% of the east coasters went to be thinking it was all over. The Celts, of course, went on to win that game. Like I said, we got screwed. Who the hell agreed to that arrangement? I would fire that asshole in the time it took me to say his or her name. You’re fired! Now get the hell out of my sight. And take your basketball with you.

Ev has been getting taller over the course of the summer as he edges into puberty. The lot of his friends have taken off like an acre of saplings on steroids. Some faster than others but all are moving in the same direction. Up. Toward the sun. They now tower over girls in the hood who just months ago looked down on them with a somewhat amusing and mild curiosity. There are no more yo-yo’s. Just yo-yo mama’s. Lots of sexual energy for kids who are just busy being kids. I can barely connect the dots to my own experience but I suppose I went through the same thing at their age. It’s just so oozing. I don’t remember it being that blatant. Even though it was during the period of Woodstock and free love, rules were still rules and teens were expected to be teens in a regulated if not repressed way until they came of age. I don’t think those rules are in play anymore. Anyway, Ev rocked the fault lines in the family line-up this past week when he stood in the kitchen talking to his mom and I noticed that he was taller than her. It was a first. Oh, he tiptoed around from time time and stood on his tiptoes and liked to pretend that he was taller but he really wasn’t. Those days are over. Gone. I guess I hope he grows taller than me but that is more for him that it is for me. If not, he’ll have to wait till I grow smaller than him which every man will given that he lives long enough.

All of the men that I know agree on one thing. They don’t want anything for Father’s Day. Why? They simply can’t afford it. That is the world we live in. That is the world of $4 per gallon gas. It is the world of escalating prices for everything from milk to margarine. Nancy, knowing the coffee nut that I am, shared an article with me this past week about roasting your own coffee beans and it has gotten me to thinking. I want to try it. Not because I can’t afford a good cup of coffee because I can. There is a scintilla of self sufficiency attached to the notion of doing it not to mention the fact that I think I may like the smell of coffee more than I do the taste. I can hardly wait to start the process. It’s funny how having a nugget of interest can blossom into something more tangible and long lasting. Not sure where it will take me but I expect a more exotic experience for all my efforts. It reminds me that I started to grind my own beans a very long time ago and I still prefer that process even today. I won’t ask for a roaster since they are expensive. I may have a popcorn roaster around the house that will get the job done just as easily at 1/8th the price. Certainly, the beans are going to be less expensive so that will be a plus. Got to pinch pennies where you can to survive. God help us all. And godspeed to Tim Russert in the everlasting.