Perils of Caffeine in the Evening

I should probably apologize to my mother for the chum-photos in the previous post.  She was married to a fishing enthusiast for over 50 years, but has always hated the smell, and probably the very idea, of fish.  I wonder, in fact, if there was a period early in their marriage when she played along, scaling and cleaning the fish my dad brought home, before finally outing herself as a fish-hater.  (I doubt my dad cleaned them - he once lost his breakfast over a cricket that was smashed on the carpet.)  So, Mom, those are … marshmallows on that plate below.  And the green thing is a … let’s see … a rolled-up sponge cake with green mint frosting.  Yeah, that’s it.

In preparation for my trip to Milwaukee tomorrow, I walked out this morning and got a haircut at the salon I’ve been patronizing for 6 - 7 years.  The woman who cuts my hair is Vietnamese, a really nice person whose English is a brave effort.  Whenever I call for an appointment, she invariably asks, “What time you want coming?”  I bite my tongue until it bleeds.

Another sorry errand after the haircut was to wander over to the wine shop to purchase a bottle of wine for $41.  I need it for an overdue payment of a bet I made on the Debacle In The Desert last January with the wife of the guy who owns my client in Milwaukee.   It had to be $41 because the bet was on the winning team’s point total.  Damn, I wish it had snowed that night.  She’s a Georgia grad, and normally Georgia and Florida are arch-enemies, but when they’re serving up fresh yankee like they were that night, SEC types treat it like a church picnic.

Off to the gym for one last workout on good equipment.  The hotels I frequent in Milwaukee have capacious bars and crummy exercise rooms.  I do have a line on a gym in the neighborhood that will let me in for one-night stands, and I’ll check it out Monday night.