Category Archives: My Life

To Sleep, To Snore No More

Back when America was great, people snored. It was natural, nobody made a big deal out of it. Oh sure, people who didn’t snore and lived with people who did usually complained, but there was really nothing they could do about it.

And then…science. And suddenly snoring wasn’t snoring anymore, it was “sleep apnea.” And while it wouldn’t kill you, it could help lead to your early demise — thorough heart disease or diabetes or your spouse beating you to death with her pillow.

I have been told that I snore. I believe this to be “fake news” because I have never personally heard myself snore. Plenty of people have told me I snore, but they could be lying. Still, I do wonder sometimes why I get up in the morning and The Wife is sleeping on the couch, or why I’ve been banned from camping out with my friends.

4128335-7065079024-tumbl-1But lately I’ve been having second thoughts. I’m tired all the time. If I sit still for more than 10 minutes I black out. Every afternoon I come home from work, sit down on the couch, and fall asleep. I can’t make it through a movie without falling asleep. I now judge whether a movie is good or not based on whether or not I stay awake the whole time.

And so it was that last night I made my way to American Sleep Medicine for a sleep study. They put me in a nice room with a double-size bed. The tech then came in to wire me up — two electrodes on each leg, 2 on the rib cage, 2 on the shoulders, a half-dozen all around my head, a strap around my gut and one around my chest, two diodes shoved up each nostril and a clip to put my index finger in.

How the —- am I supposed to sleep like this?

I decided I’d better use the restroom before lights out, so I carried my box of wires into the adjacent room and did my business, then settled in for a good night’s sleep. It’s not easy to rest when you can’t move your head because of wires all around it and there are wires up your nose and everywhere else…but eventually I did drift off.

The next morning the tech informed me that they had found no evidence of sleep apnea. “Are you serious?” I asked. “Yes. You showed no signs of snoring,” he said.

“Rodney? Rodney? Sorry to wake you but you haven’t been breathing, so we’re going to try the CPAP on you.”

14d09682add8ae93b1757689296fe9fe(Honest to God, I was sleeping and dreaming that I had passed the sleep test when the guy comes in and wakes me up to tell me I’ve failed the sleep test)

The first thing he does is tries this thing that he shoved up my nose that pushes air in. It’s the least invasive format but you have to be a good nose-breather to use it. My body was having nothing of that.So we put on the mask, which is uncomfortable and weird but at least I can breathe fairly normally.

Still, how the —- am I supposed to sleep like this?

I decided I’d better take another restroom break since I’m awake anyway. Lying there with the mask on was pretty darn freaky but eventually I did drift off. Some time later I found myself in a daze trying to take the mask off. The tech comes in.

“Rodney, are you OK? What are you doing?

“I dunno. Am I awake? What’s going on?”

e9203702acfb83a6cf00bfd43c1d429dThe tech politely tells me we’ve still got some more time and puts the mask back on and I go back to sleep. The next thing I know the tech is waking me up and telling me we’re done for the day but I would probably need to come back for a second study so they can get the air flow adjusted just right. He gets me a cup of coffee and sends me away.

It’s 5:30 a.m. and I have this new sensation — like I’m awake. Like I’m not tired. I don’t know what to make of it. I go next door to Dierberg’s and buy donut holes for my son, then stop at McDonald’s for a couple of sausage burritos. Come home to find my lazy, deadbeat family are all asleep.


Go downstairs and eat breakfast while watching last night’s “Late Show.” Put in a load of laundry. Get caught up on all the boring crap my friends have posted on Facebook overnight. Write a blog post. It’s just now 9 a.m.

What the hell has happened to me?


The End Of The World As I Know It

The first comic book shop I ever set foot in was probably the one in downtown Springfield, Missouri. It wasn’t really a comic book shop, it was an old, used bookstore, but in the window it had a sign: ‘Marvel Comics On Sale Here.’

I don’t remember how I got there — downtown was not a spot we ever visited in Springfield — but get there I did. It was old and musty with books stacked unevenly and all over. Classic old, used bookstore. But in one area were a couple of shelves with all new comics. Not the spinner-racks I was used to at Wood’s supermarket. Next to the shelves were stacks of old comics.

A store that specialized in selling comic books. What a wonderful idea. I wonder if it will catch on.

imagesSurprisingly, It did. The first comic book shop I was  frequent customer of was Rock Bottom Books and Comics in Columbia, Missouri. It was within walking distance of the dorm so I would trek there often to peruse the new comics. I still had a subscription to ‘Avengers’ and ‘X-Men’ back home so I didn’t need to actually buy any comics, but that didn’t stop me from walking up the long stairway to Rock Bottom and while away the hours looking through the spinner racks. I was young back then and didn’t see any problem with going into a store and reading their books and not buying anything. Eventually my subscriptions ran out and I did turn my business over to Rock Bottom.

There have been many other shops over the years, and even more locations (comic book shops tend to move around a lot). While living in Springfield I sometimes visited Duckburg Comics. Years later it would turn out the owners of that shop would be our frequent companions at LawyerCon.

When The Wife had a job interview in St. Charles I went along for the ride. While she was interviewing I went for a walk on Main Street and discovered the St. Charles Journal, where I would soon go to work, and FBN: The Fantasy Shop, a comic book shop just down the street. (FBN, I eventually learned, stood for “Fly By Night,” the Rush song) The Fantasy Shop went on to become the McDonald’s of comic book shops in St. Louis, with locations all over. They dropped the FBN moniker.

There are a surprising number of comic book shops in St. Louis. I admit I haven’t even been to all of them. For the most part I split my money between The Fantasy Shop, now in its third location since I moved here, and Comic Book Relief, which is next door to Beer, Bait & Bullets.

If you watch “The Big Bang Theory” you know that new comics arrive at the shop once a week. The day has changed over the years but for some time now New Comic Book Day is Wednesday. It makes for a nice break in the work week. Every Wednesday I pick up my son after work and we drive to FS or CBR, I rifle through the new books, check out any new merchandise, pick up a book or two along with the Comic Shop News (it’s free, as it should be because it’s not really worth paying for), pay the man at the cash register (it’s usually a  man) and be on my way.

It’s been part of my routine for almost 40 years.

The Internet, as we all know, has ruined everything. A few years back publishers started making comic books available in a digital format. Rather than buying a physical, paper comic book as God intended, you could download one off a website and read it on your computer.

What a stupid idea. Who wants to read a comic book on a computer? How inconvenient is that? Then tablets came along and suddenly it was maybe more convenient but still, why would you give up your comic book for a digital file on a computer?

marvel-digital-code-350x217Once digital comics took off, Marvel started offering free codes in its comics. Type the 10-digit code into your computer and you’d get a free digital copy of that comic. I still wasn’t sold. I continued buying my comics and ignoring the codes. Then one day Marvel had a special deal where you could download like 300 comics for free. Suddenly, digital comics didn’t seem so stupid.

I went through the various hoops and downloaded several books. I then proceeded to read them on my son’s Ipad. HOLY CRAP. This is awesome! The art is crisper. The colors are more vibrant. And best of all, you can zoom in on individual panels and blow up images as large as you like — making it significantly easier for old, cataracted, eyes to read the captions.

Digital comics, where have you been all my life?

I quickly began downloading every code in every comic I had that had not already expired. I now had a new weekly routine. Go to the comic book shop, buy a comic, bring it home and read it, download the digital copy, put the comic on the shelf, and hereafter re-read it in digital. It was the best of both worlds. So naturally it couldn’t last.

Last month Marvel announced that it would no longer include a free digital copy of the comic you just bought. I feared this day would come. Nothing good lasts forever.

Here now my dilemma: Do I continue as before, going to the comic shop every week and picking up a book or two and taking them home and reading them and eventually sticking them on a shelf or in a box…or do I come home, fire up the computer, go to and purchase a digital copy? I’m not going to do both.

000_0368Think about this people. This is no minor thing. Since childhood I have collected comics.I never stopped. Some sissies quit around high school and go back around college. Not me. I have them (not bagged and boarded, what a stupid thing) in two tall bookshelves, two short bookshelves, eight boxes in the unfinished part of the basement, two boxes in the bedroom closet, two dresser drawers in the bedroom, several stacked on my nightstand near the bed, and a few stacked on the living room end table. That’s not counting my graphic novels. I have comics from England and Ireland and Scotland and probably half the states in the union.

If I go digital, that all stops. No more “Where’s my comic book?” and “Why did you draw on my comic book?” and “Who tore the cover off my comic book?” The poor soul who inherits my comic book collection will find unexpected stops in the current runs of “Black Widow,” “Occupy Avengers” and “All New X-Men.” My wife will be the happiest person alive.

But it’s not just the loss of the physical item. What about my routine? Going to the comic book shop wasn’t just going shopping. It was like going to church, but without the preaching and that horrible contemporary Christian music that has ruined church. It was a hump-day break from the unending depression of work. And the social aspect — “How’z it goin’?” says the man behind the counter. “OK,” says I. “That’ll be $4.23.” “Hold on, I think I have some change.” “Thanks for coming in!”

No, I don’t know the names of any of the clerks or shop owners that I have dealt with weekly for the past 25 years. I’m not my wife. And no, I don’t talk to the fellow customers. Have you been in a comic book shop? Nerds. All nerds.

But they’re my nerds. And while I won’t miss them, I will miss the experience. I mean, I’m not a college freshman anymore, I can’t just show up every week, rifle through the new books, and walk out.

And so I must face the future. The advantages of digital are too great to ignore. I can store hundreds of comics in the space that one would take up today. They’re easier to read and so much nicer to look at. I can read digital comics on my phone, which means I can read them anywhere — sitting in a waiting room, waiting for the movie to start, in the bathroom at work — the possibilities are endless. My only fear now is a power outage. Or the Internet explodes.


(I told you you wouldn’t care about it, assuming you made it this far)









It’s The MOD, MOD, MOD, MOD’S World

Several years ago, in the early days of The Executive Committee, one of my underlings (I think it was Trent) referred to me as — and I quote — a “Mean Old Dictator.”

Now a lesser man would’ve had his feelings hurt. A lesser man would’ve responded with a series of blistering tweets — had twitter existed back then. A lesser man would’ve pouted. A lesser man would’ve struck out a horrible vengeance on the person who wronged him so.

But I am not that man. Instead I chose to own the title. Maybe even revel in it. And so I became the Mean Ol’ Dictator — or MOD — of The Executive Committee.

Now if you’ve been following this blog for a while you know that one of my favorite Christmas traditions is the Executive Committee Holiday Dinner. And if you’ve been around for a while you also know that one of the greatest challenges of setting up the ECHD is figuring out where we’re going to eat.

Well a few months back I’m driving through town and I notice a new restaurant is opening: MOD Pizza. I immediately went home and called an emergency meeting.

“Which one of you sold my naming rights to a pizza chain?”


Now a lesser man would’ve been upset by this blatant act of identity theft. A lesser man would’ve brought in the lawyers and sued for copyright infringement or trademark violations.

But I am not that man. Instead, I said, “let’s have this year’s holiday dinner at MOD Pizza!” Everyone agreed. Maybe I’ll get a free pizza out of the deal once the owners find out who I am.

And so it was that Wednesday night shortly before 7 p.m. I arrived at MOD Pizza. I decided to get there first (I knew being a few minutes early would ensure that I would be first) to scope out the place as I’d never been there before and try to figure out seating arrangements. If you’ve been around a while you know that the second greatest challenge of setting up the ECHD is attendance. There are currently 12 members of the EC. Try getting 12 people to show up at the same place at the same time — especially over the holidays. Some years we do pretty good. One year it was me, Trent and Fagan.

First to arrive was our newest member, Cindy B. I don’t know why we waited so long to put Cindy in the group — nobody, and I mean nobody, loves this crazy band of Former Journal Employees like Cindy. Everyone else showed up in fairly decent time. And I do mean everyone. Well, almost everyone. Spaulding (Motto: If I want to spend time with you, I’ll make time) was as usual a no-show, and once again Pokin didn’t make it in from Springfield. To be fair, Springfield is a 4-hour drive, but then Fagan lives in North Carolina and he’s never missed.


There was one, and only one, long table in the room. There were 3 people sitting in it when I showed up. I started to hover and they left just as my crew started arriving in full. I guess it’s a good thing they’re always late. With spouses and children in tow we had no trouble filling the table.

MOD Pizza has a rather interesting thing going. It’s like a Subway, but for pizza. They specialize in small, personal pizzas so you don’t have to deal with the hassles of sharing. They throw all the ingredients on the shell as you call them out, then you pay and wait for your pie to come out of the oven. Pretty efficient operation.They play music from the MOD era (See: The Who: Quadrophenia) which I greatly enjoyed.

The rest of the evening went like pretty much every ECHD since the dawn of time. There was much talking and laughing and eating and drinking. I received a lovely set of  tin letters that spelled out my name featuring different Marvel and DC superheroes from Melfy and a “Grow Your Own Dinosaur” kit from Erica. I can’t wait to grow my own dinosaur but I figure I’d better put it off until at least Spring. Not enough room in the house to keep him.

MOD Pizza closes promptly at 9 p.m. We left around 9:30. They were very gracious about it. To our faces, anyway.






The Gift Of Gifting

There’s so much to love about Christmas: The movies (well, a few of them), the music (well, some of it), the TV specials (well, “The Grinch” and “A Charlie Brown Christmas”), the lights, the decorations, the cards, the food, the day off from work, nun bowling, the ECHD and all that business with the Baby Jesus.

But best of all, of course, is the presents. Presents, presents, presents. Who doesn’t love a good present? Even a lousy present is better than nothing. Sure, I’m old enough and have my own money — I can buy my own stuff. I usually do. But getting stuff, and saving money in the process, is hard to beat.

Giving gifts is also pretty awesome. It feels good to give something to someone and see that look of genuine joy when they open it. Good gift giving, like everything else in this world, is a talent. Giving the perfect gift means knowing the recipient and studying them and listening and paying attention when they don’t think you’re paying attention. It’s hard work.

For example, this year I came home one afternoon and there was a large package on the front porch from JC Penney.

“Did you order anything from JC Penney?” I asked The Wife.

“No. Did you?”

“Do I look like someone who shops at JC Penney?”

“No, I don’t believe they sell comic books.”

I bring the package inside and notice it’s squishy. Why would someone send me something squishy? There was nothing squishy in the RROY REPORT Holiday Gift Guide. I squish it some more. It feels like a pillow.

I rip open the package and sure enough, it was a pillow. Why would someone send me a pillow? I have a pillow. In fact, there are about 2 dozen pillows on my bed. Most of them get thrown on the floor every night because no one sleeps with 2 dozen pillows. Why do women feel the need to decorate beds with lots of pillows? They just take up space and while I get that they’re supposed to be decorative, no one’s going to see them. You generally don’t invite guests into the bedroom. It’s just an odd daily ritual — toss the pillows on the floor at night, put them back on the bed in the morning. I don’t understand.

I check out the packaging on the pillow: Royal Velvet Essential Down Pillow. Fill: White Duck Down.

Someone bought me a feather pillow? And then it all falls into place.

Back in June my beloved feather pillow got a tear in it and I had to throw it away. As is always the case when I lose a beloved inanimate object, I wrote a poem in its honor. I published that poem on June 12 here at the Report (you can look it up in the archives). Someone (obviously Jan) read that poem six months ago and remembered it and sent me a feather pillow to make up for my lost love.

And that, Virginia, is the true meaning of Christmas. Have a merry one.






The RROY REPORT Holiday Gift Guide 2016

Before we begin this year’s holiday gift guide, I need to clarify a few things.

For those who weren’t around in the old days, I started the holiday gift guide to give people, well, a guide for buying gifts for the holiday. It coincided with the RROY REPORT Holiday Gift Drive, in which I encouraged my readers to send gifts to, well, me.

It worked about as well as you’d expect. A few people did send me stuff for a few years, but that didn’t last long. But one loyal reader — we’ll call her My Favorite Fan — has continued to send me presents every year. The problem is occasionally she’ll send something off the list that I already have. So to avoid that problem from now on, and the hassles of gift exchange that come with it, if I already have the item in question, I will note it in RED ALL CAPS.

You’re welcome.


imagesOnce something becomes a fixture of pop culture, usually through a TV or movie, there is no end to the amount of crap you can find in the likeness of that favorite character. Funko Pop is currently king of such tripe but there’s also Mopeez, Dorbz and many others. For the most part they’re ugly and not something I’d want sitting on my shelf.

The one exception is the Itty Bitty collection from Hallmark. They’re small, simple and adorable. They come in Star Wars, Star Trek, Marvel and DC varieties.If my Batman shrine wasn’t full I would probably grab some of the Batman characters, but my focus is now on The Avengers: Thor, Hulk, Captain America, IRON MAN, BLACK WIDOW and HAWKEYE.


hawkpotatoMr. Potato Head is one of toyland’s most enduring items. To survive this long, the spud has had to adapt and now you can find Mr. Potato Head represented as just about any character in pop culture. Still, I was surprised to discover that there is actually a Hawkeye version. Sure, I’ve seen Spider-Man Potato Head in stores, and even a Thor version, but never a Hawkeye. And now that I know he’s out there, I want him. In case you’re wondering, yes, they make a Black Widow version as well.


listingimageUgly Christmas sweaters are all the rage this time of year. There are plenty of ugly Christmas sweaters with superhero designs (and some neat Star Wars ones) but this one is my favorite. It’s available in XXL – the only size that matters – on down to small.

Sister2 doesn’t think the bat is well defined but I say that’s because it’s old school Batman. Or the seamstress just isn’t that good at bats. I don’t think it’s an ugly sweater at all, actually. There are a lot of holiday sweatshirts out there with Marvel and DC designs if you want something more comfortable and easier to care for than a sweater.


51hnyloescl-_ac_us160_Former Journal friend Susan Sagarra published her second book earlier this year. Bus Stop Angels marks the return of former reporter Meghan Murphy in another mystery, this one about missing children. Available on Amazon, along with Susan’s first book, Cracks in the Cobblestone, in case you weren’t paying attention when I was promoting it last year.

shoppingAdult coloring books have swept the nation and naturally the major comic book companies are getting in on it. Marvel and DC offer a variety of different coloring books now that are basically made up of artwork from comics and posters.

They are more expensive than the traditional coloring books you’ll find for kids, but the art is much sharper.

I normally take this segment to recommend some graphic novels that came out this year but I can’t think of any worth your time. Oh, that “Dr. Strange” trade I talked about a few weeks ago — The Way of the Weird —  was pretty good.


vt-2007-cd_001__40826_zoomCollege buddy Chris Brashear has a new CD out as a member of the Piedmont Melody Makers. Wonderful World Outside is a collection of bluegrass and olde tyme tunes that I am confident is mighty fine.

Elsewhere in pop music, 2016 was not a great year. The only new CD I can remember buying was GOOD TIMES! by The Monkees. If you don’t have a copy already — and why not?, I told you about this months ago — it would make a great stocking stuffer.


batman-v-superman-ultimate-edition-blu-ray-coverI already have a copy of CAPTAIN AMERICA: CIVIL WAR and if you don’t, well,that’s why God invented Christmas. Also recommended are the horribly raunchy yet hilarious Deadpool; the not-as-bad-as-everyone-says-it-is Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, which you should have in your collection for historical purposes if not for quality (and if you’re springing for it, you might as well get the Ultimate Edition with 30 more minutes of film. Probably none of it has Wonder Woman, but we can hope); and the extended cut of Suicide Squad, which probably has more Joker because there was a lot of Joker that showed up in the trailers that never was seen in the movie. Sadly you will have to wait until next Christmas for Dr. Strange — or just take the family to see it Christmas Day, if you’re the strange type of person who goes to movies on Christmas.


Somebody somewhere decided to take old vinyl records and turn them into clocks. The end results are pretty cool and I want one for the RROY Cave. They come in a wide, wide variety of styles — pretty much anything out there in pop culture, from the Beatles to Star Trek,  has been made into a vinyl clock. Here are a couple of my favorites:






Happy Holidays and Happy Shopping!


That for which I am thankful, 2016:

Our long national nightmare, the election of 2016, is OVER

Little Debbie Fruit Pies

People who post full albums on YouTube

Another good year for superhero movies (yes, even Batman v. Superman)


Nasty Women

Bob Dylan: Nobel Laureate

Binge watching “Daredevil S.2,” “Luke Cage,” “Black Mirror” and — uh — “The Crown”


People who post song lyrics online

Stevie moved back where she belongs

‘Civil War’ the movie was much better than ‘Civil War’ the comic book

Michael Nesmith’s ‘The Prison’

Mile High Comics

Hillary Clinton will never be president of the United States

Donald Trump will not be president of the United States forever

Not all of my music legends have died

and, as always


Festival Of The Many Roys

Last year Sister2 and Sister-In-Law convinced their spouses to come to St. Charles for the Fete des Petites Cotes. Apparently they had so much fun, or the allure of Kettle Korn was so overwhelming, that they decided to come back and convinced Sister1 and her spouse to join them.

FullSizeRender (2)

If you’ve done the math, that’s 6 visitors in a house with 3 bedrooms, two of which are spoken for. We decided to let Randy & Brenda have one room, Mark & Teresa the other, with Cindy & Chuck on an air mattress in the basement. Lar and I would sleep on air mattresses in Andrew’s room. He wouldn’t mind the company. I’m not a fan of air mattresses but we got rid of the beds that fold back into couches because they became unfashionable, I guess. Of course, we used to have a water bed and then it became unfashionable. I just want something soft to sleep on.

Figuring out sleeping arrangements was the easy part. Now comes the cleaning. It’s bad enough living with an obsessive-compulsive clean freak under normal circumstances — having company just cranks all the OCD up to 11. “This house is filthy! Your family are going to be disgusted!” Do you know how hard it is to relax on the couch with a Coke, a bag of chips, and the Kindle Fire while watching TV with that going on? “Why are you eating on the couch! What are you, an animal?!”

The family pulled up in a rented 6-passenger van late Friday afternoon. I put on the Olympics hoping that will entertain them, and in short order I fire up the grill. We have the food ready by the time Lar gets home. The Stupid St. Louis Weathermen say there’s an 80 percent chance for rain tomorrow, so we decide to go down to the fest after supper just to be safe.

Naturally, everyone in St. Louis had the same idea. The RRoy St. Louis Freebie Festival Imperative was in full effect (Question 24 in the FAQ).Lar wanted to park in the city garage, which I was sure would be full at 7 p.m., but no one listens to me, and since you can’t fit 9 people in a 6 passenger van, we had to take 2 cars, which meant the odds of finding not 1 but 2 parking spaces in the city garage at 7 p.m. on opening night of the Little Hills Festival was… well, no one listens to me…

Chuck manages to find a spot for the van, I am not so lucky. I kick the passsengers out of my car and tear out of the city garage. I head over to the Foundry Art Centre where I see a couple and a baby carriage heading to their car. I pull up behind them. “No hurry. I am in no rush to catch up to my family.”

I eventually find them on Riverside Drive. It turns out the event organizers, after listening to the Stupid St. Louis Weathermen, decided not to set up tents in the park since all that rain that was coming in would turn the event into a wet, muddy mess — like last year.

Did I mention that every idiot in St. Louis had converged on the festival? I had never seen it so crowded on a Friday night. We walked until it was too dark to see, then kept walking. Eventually we went home and I had a nice, refreshing sleep on an air mattress.

The next day everyone was up and ready to go by 9:30 a.m. so off we went. Much better parking situation at 9:30 a.m. Saturday. The forecast by the Stupid St. Louis Weathermen had miraculously changed from 80 percent chance of rain to 10 percent. Oh, Stupid St. Louis Weathermen — don’t ever change.

IMG_2446 (1)So now begins the long, long, slow, slow, stop-and-go trek that is the Festival of the Little Hills. One of our first stops is one of my favorites — Frozen Wine Slushies. There are 3 reasons to go to the FLH: Kettle Korn, The Wisconsin Sausage and Cheese booth, and Frozen Wine Slushies. In fact, I’m enjoying a Frozen Wine Slushy as I write this. Pardon the misspellings and bad grammaer.

Navigating an event like this with 9 people is quite the challenge. Never is everyone on the same page. Some people get ahead, some lag behind, some like to look at stuff, some want to keep moving, some want to go into the shops, I just want to sit down. The merchandise is pretty much the same as every year. Brenda decided Randy could make most of the stuff himself so she just took pictures of stuff for later reference. Cindy got a bunch of Christmas ornaments and junk. Mark had some Gatorade. We got Kettle Korn, Sausages and Cheese, and Wine Slushy Mix.

Two hours later we had reached the end of the street. It was lunch time so we crossed the street to the Magpie Cafe. Had three delicious glasses of Coke (free refills!) and a tasty turkey sandwich with gouda cheese and apples. It was good to sit.


After lunch we headed back up another street full of vendors. Chuck, Andrew and I made a break for it. Stopped at Doozles for an Ice Cream Cake (it was Cindy’s birthday) and then home. The others rejoined us after an hour or so. I figured they would stay later but I guess there’s a limit to even how long Laurie, Brenda and Cindy can shop.

Watched “Batman v Superman” (Randy foolishly thought Superman would beat Batman), then had supper. After that we made our way to New Town for a free concert by Trixie Delight. It was a challenging fitting 9 lawn chairs in the trunk — not to mention finding 9 chairs suitable for lawn sitting. The band was good but most of the gang seemed more interested in walking around New Town. I thought we’d done enough walking for the day so Randy, the boy and I stayed put.

Got home around 10 p.m. and ate half the ice cream cake. Then off for another restful evening on the air mattress. It’s not the getting in that’s the problem, it’s the getting out.

Sunday morning L gets up early to get donuts. They had no donut holes. What kinda bakery doesn’t have donut holes? Stupid formerly IGA grocery store.

We watch “CBS Sunday Morning” and then “Star Wars: The Force Awakens.” By that time it’s dinner time so everyone fills up on lasagna and salad and then they finish off the cake. After dinner our guests pack up and pile into the van and off they go. “I’ve got to go clean the house!” she says as the van clears the street.

I go in and take a nap.

In my bed.

Not made of air.