S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y--morning

The wife is at her laptop, formatting envelopes, growing increasingly frustrated with the vagaries of Microsoft Word. Eventually I figure out how to work around a stupid feature that automatically gives custom page sizes a 3-inch left margin, and a glaring deficiency in Samsung's printer driver that lets you rotate a page only in a 180-degree implement. And then Word stops working, inexplicably, and I have to figure out another workaround. I hate you, Microsoft.

Followed by brunch with Spooner Farms strawberries, Snoqualmie Falls Lodge pancakes, and Batdorf and Bronson coffee. The last is a huge clue that yes, I do live in Olympia.

(In fact, Joe, I'm no longer the only Greener in my family, since my wife was recently accepted to their undergraduate program. It's actually not a bad place to get an inexpensive degree, if you have a healthy bullshit detector.)

Oh, and I have a new goal in life: to write a book that meets my brother's critical approval, which is pretty darn stringent, as you know if you've been following his series of book reviews.