Well, folks, that's probably it for today.

My oldest daughter Hannah gets married later on today so I will be a little busy, what with one thing and another. I MAY have more later, but don't count on it. I was persuaded under threat of family ostracism of the necessity of renting a tux for the occasion (which cost me darn near $200 I couldn't afford) but Rosey says I clean up well. I'll have someone take a picture. The last time I wore a tux was, what, 35-40 years ago, for my brother's wedding and the color HE chose was bright yellow. I looked like a 500 pound canary. In my black tux with all the weight the various cancers have stripped off me, I now look like a cadaverous undertaker. Which, I suppose, is an improvement over a 500 pound canary. I don't recommend my diet plan, however. Pray for me -- not for my health mind you, but for the self-control to hold my tongue and my temper until the ceremonies are over. The boy's okay. He meets my oft-stated minimum requirements:

1. He must love her (and I am persuaded that he does).

2. She must love him (ditto).

3. He must be a hard worker and be able to provide for my daughter. He is.

4. He must be a shooter and be able to field strip a Colt M1911. He is and does.

5. He must be willing and able to take a bullet for Hannah if required. I am persuaded that he is.

So, you may ask, what is it that I must hold my tongue and my temper for? Can you keep a secret? Well, so can I. Just keep me in your prayers.