Saturday - Well it's sunny right now but they gave us juuuuust enough rain last night to cancel tennis class... yet again. I discovered that, if you grow whiskers, the stitches in your face blend right in. Can't see the stitches but you'll see the scar when this is all over. Scars are good. Chicks dig 'em.
(Months later)
Been away. The stitches didn't dissolve like they said so I put on my 'tough-guy' and, with a mirror and scissors, I cut 'em out myself. Now I got a lump in my lip the size of a small peanut. Had a barber shave off seven days while I pointed my revolver at his ribs for my protection. Then I walked across the street to the saloon for a whiskey. On the way I grabbed the town hottie and dragged her to a barn. Showed her my scar. Filled three cowpokes with lead over a dispute involving the finer aspects of poker. Watered my horse and then, because I don't much care for the sheriff, I blew up the jail with some leftover TNT I found near the gold mine. Rode out of town while the hottie threw her shoes at me. It was downright humorous when I flicked my cigar stump and it bounced off her forehead. It's easy being a tough guy with a scar like this.
Saturday - We've got over 80 tomatoes on our first tomato plants ever. One big red one which we may eat with juevos rancheros when M gets back from Turbo Kick.
... to be continued...
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