Don't mess with the Old Man

First things first. We are on track with the locker. It was back to zero yesterday afternoon, so it was opened sometime between 0730 and 1630 yesterday. I have lined up three volunteers for the stake-out. Monday August 11th is L-Day. I don’t expect German machine gun fire, but you never know.

Today is Olof’s name day. All the men on my father’s side of the family, including my brother and I, have the middle-name Olof, after our grandfather, who is affectionately known as "Den Gamle" (the Old Man, in Swedish). He turned 97 this year, and is still quite a vital man for his age. I have nothing but respect for him, especially since he kicked a mugger’s ass seven years ago. That’s right, at age 90. I wonder what the guy told his friends about the bruises.

Anywho, since today is Olof today, I figured I would introduce another of our children. There are three of them, one perennial citrus tree, one mini Christmas Star (who is the runt of the litter, and looks like he’s been mutilated), and then there’s the palm tree.



Of course, he’s named Olof. My girl thinks that joke is pushing it. I disagree.