First of all, a big thank you to for listing me among their “Blogs of Note.”

Second of all — jehosaphat, are my 37-year-old muscles ever sore! When I walk, I resemble any of the many cast members of Cocoon, before they are rejuvenated by aliens. I totally need one of those Rascal scooters that are always advertised on Game Show Network. (For a guffaw, check out the Rascal-cam video on the manufacturer’s website). Or maybe, thanks to my dumb-ass decision not to stretch before, during or after a softball doubleheader on Sunday, I just need to hook up with the Young at Heart choir and sing me some “Schizophrenia”:

In summation, I’m 37 and I feel like those numbers should be reversed.

The Tigers are still 0-6.