What a wild week
Who'da thunk when President Richard Millhouse Nixon passed the Monday Holiday Bill some 30-some-odd years ago that we would celebrate the Fourth of July on a Wednesday?
Granted, that was the actual date of its occurrence this year, but since when did that have anything to do with it?
Makes things slightly hectic around an office with deadlines.
The items submitted to fill a newspaper that normally goes to press on Tuesday night are usually done long before Monday night, but there is a cushion there the next morning, for late-breaking stories, last minute corrections, etc.
This time, Monday's deadlines were the Friday before, and Tuesday's deadlines on Monday, with, yep, you guessed it, Wednesday's on Tuesday. Go figure.
Well, not to be complaining, just 'splaining what a wild week it has been.
Then to top it all off, Thursday after the holiday felt like a Monday all over again!
Oh well, what would life be without a little excitement, right?
The events that are culminating this week have been prepared for like no other, or so it would seem to some, anyway.
We have had four All-star tournaments taking place this week.
First, there were those cool dudes, the Dixie Minors, playing at Robert's Country Fields in Highland Home.
Then, starting Thursday night in Greenville was the Dixie Ponytails Softball opener, and at the same time, the Dixie Belles are playing in Opp.
Combine that with the beginning of the Dixie Youth All-stars opening on Friday night in Luverne, and one would need to be Hadji in order to blink himself to all of them at once.
But, this is the age of electronics, and so we will see if we can combine resources and talents between sister papers and get them all covered for you all, the parents, athletes and coaches who wish to see them in the grayscale of this page.
Hope all have had a safe week, and enjoyable.
Wednesday found me in the supine (lying on my back) position for a good portion of the day, getting caught up on some of that recovery period known to some as sleep.
But when I arose, feeling refreshed, it appeared as if the day were to be wasted if I did not accomplish at least one constructive task, so out to the work shed I went, and combed between the spider webs and crawly things to get my weed-eater (something about those power toys has always tickled my fancy), fuel it up, fill the line spools, and I was off for some needed destruction.
Destruction, that is, for the weed department in our flowerbeds.
The annuals that displayed their prominent beauty throughout the spring were being taken over by the chronic mosquito gathering variety of weeds, so they had to go.
Zip - zip - gone.
Then there was the makings of some Mimosa trees, you know, the ones that grow the ugly pink fuzzy thingys on them?
Well, a couple of snips with some limb cutters, followed by a couple of pries with a long shovel, and they were history.
(Sounds almost sadistic, doesn't it?)
But the more I cut, the more it became appealing to the eyes, and the more I felt like I was accomplishing something.
Now, if I can just get the gumption to get up sometime soon with some get-up-and-go (it has usually gotten up and went) to run a tiller through them there flower beds before the weeds decide they need to come back and have another visit, we might even have a fall/winter garden this year.
Then came the realization, as I was washing down all the clippings and dirt I had strewn all over the place, another thing became obviously clear and apparent to me - the house could use painting.
Well, maybe the next time we have a holiday in the middle of the week, I will feel motivated enough to do something about it.
Just a reminder before I close. All those kids playing ball, representing the Camellia City so well, whether in other municipalities or on the home front, they all need to know they are appreciated. And to do that, they must be able to look into the bleachers and see people they recognize as hometown folks, cheering them on.
Everyone does better with a little morale booster once in a while.
Until next week, I will see you at the ballparks.
You will recognize me; I'm that prematurely balding sports writer way out there in Deep Left Field.
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