CALL ME SNAKE

Not to "toot my own horn" but Gatemouth rated my last post as one of my best ever. "Now that we know what you're capable of," he says, "the handball diaries just ain't going to cut it anymore." I took his comment to heart and, as a result, haven't written anything here for a couple of days. The fact is, I don't want to raise the bar too high because, as I've said before, I don't respond well to pressure. Even the best hitters don't hit a home run every time up to the plate. Sometimes they get a single. Sometimes they bunt. And sometimes they strike out.

So I'm going to accept Gatemouth's compliment (it's clear, from the way he writes, that he knows what he's talking about), but I'm also going to take the pressure off myself a little bit. If I'm lucky, every now and then I might connect and hit one for extra bases. But most times, I won't do that. Maybe I'll get on base with a walk. Or an error. Or beat out an infield ground ball. That said, I'm going for an infield hit here, at best.

First off, I pulled that rare feat in consumerism earlier today. Shopping at CVS (where else?) this morning, I "zeroed out." To those of you amateurs unfamiliar with the term, I'll explain. Or better yet, I'll give you an example: I purchased a 6.4 ounce tube of Colgate "Cavity Prevention" toothpaste on sale for 99 cents. With my dollar off coupon, it was free. Gratis. That, my friends, is ZEROING OUT. It doesn't happen often (trust me, as one who's been there), so when it does one must savor it.

In my second at bat (not to tip my hand but I might be bunting or trying to make it on a dropped third strike), I'd like to issue a warning: Doing puzzles can be hazardous to your health. Especially if you're over a certain age where injuries come in unexpected ways. As I was saying, after dinner my daughter and I were working on a new, 60-piece puzzle. We had it spread out on the living room floor in a slightly cramped area (which is how one might describe our entire house). I tried to maneuver around to put in a piece and as I twisted, my foot got caught beneath the couch, causing a serious strain to my right knee, which has been killing me ever since. So I want to caution you all about the hazards posed by puzzles. Maybe it's time for the industry to start issuing warnings. We can begin that campaign right here. Right now. There's no time like the present. Now if you'll excuse me, I've gotta take some Advils and ice the offending joint.