This, That.

Baseball in 27105 tonight, for a change, and a go-ahead seventh-inning suicide squeeze for the home team to make all the cheap beer and nearly-warm hot dogs taste even better. Winds out of the south and east, but cool winds. No more rain. None really in sight until next week, unless Fay changes her mind. Or track. Let's maybe say that the hurricane folks may not have any real idea where hurricanes might or might not go. In five days Fay will either be 100 miles offshore into the Gulf, or in Nashville, TN. Thirty inches of rain in Melbourne, FL. Three tenths here. Busted August rolls on. FayWatch has damn near about expired. Soon enough we go back to work. Soon enough it'll be September.

Watching Americanized cheerleaderized Olympic beach volleyball first last night in the driving rain and now tonight in the blistering sun live from Beijing while "Shout" plays over the loudspeakers is either a textbook example of globalization and free-marketism, or a textbook example of the arrival of another set of plagues sent by a very upset god or gods.

Do I cheer for Nashville, or for the Gulf? If Fay heads back out to sea, maybe she'll cut a full circle and come back this way. If she heads for Nashville, surely we get some of that. The fancies seem to want to give us thunderstorms next week either way. I shaved today. I cut my hair. I'm either getting cleaned up, or giving up. Seems like a lot of the time I can't really tell which thing it is, no matter what we're talking about. It's one or the other, surely.