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Buck: The Third
Okay, this post doesn't even get a Buck icon because I don't feel I did enough to earn it. Just over 200 words, mostly do to a skull-splitting headache that, strangely enough, isn't made any better by staring at a bright white screen. Go figure.

But I got Gordon's ogre description down and had him throw a chair at Buck, so things were accomplished. Chapter Eight will still be finished by the 18th, I swear it.


While ice-packing the forehead this evening I finally was able (thanks to Netflix streaming) to watch an episode of the new Sherlock series I've heard so much about on the 'net. And, in a rarity, it actually lived up to the hype. I loved the first ep, and will need to watch the others as soon as I get a chance. I would have watched another, but I wanted to get my minimum of words done (100) and now the Phils are on (it's really strange, even after the past few seasons, to think of them as one of the best teams, if not the best, in baseball).


I started playing around on last night, and while I didn't learn anything shockingly new, I did learn that a branch of my mom's family was here before the Civil War. I always though we showed up near the turn of last century, but apparently I was off by about 80 years. There's record of Garrahans in the 1850 census.

Also, I saw copies of my great-grandfather's draft registration cards for World War I and II. Mind you, he was 39 on the card for WWI and in his sixties when he got the one for WWII, but still... You never realize how much of a wuss you are until you learn that, no matter how small they actually were, a near-seventy year old man had more of a chance of going off to war than you've ever faced. I've never held a draft card, much less had to sign up for one.

Time to tip another drink to those who do serve, I think.


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