The lapse between the previous entry and this one is probably the longest gap I've had between online entries. The reason has to do with the problems that my hosting provider unintentionally dumped on my site, which I only mention in case you blame my natural laziness. This leaves me with a backlog of topics to explore, some more interesting than others. I'm going to start with one of the less interesting: my thoughts on the Olympics.

I have really put this out of shape body through too much in the past week. Monday was one of the most sore days that I've had in several years. Today isn't a lot better, to be honest. I'm not really old enough yet to sit here an enumerate all of my aches and pains. (Although I could see getting to that point in 20 years or so. Won't that be exciting!)

The novelty of me shaving my head has finally worn off. My hair actually grows back quite quickly. It's hard to keep a good Charlie Brown look going. As you might imagine, showing up after lunch with your mane lopped off leads to some good reactions. I wish I had thought to set up the video camera to catch the expressions of passes by.

Something always goes to hell in a handbasket when I have to go on a work trip. When I heard Gatsby moving around in the kitchen, I got up and walked in there to give him some attention. But he wasn't there. Instead, there's scratching in the cabinet above the stove. I turned on the light and opened the door.

The media and my own television have been focused this week on the Democratic National Convention. Try as I might to write about the only thing going on, it's very hard to find an interesting spin on the proceedings.

Let's start with the good: the Madonna concert started with Vogue, and the concert could have ended at the end of that number. We would have said something like, "she could have sung a few more songs, but man, it was really good."

When I got to work this morning, I had a note on my computer that said, "Check in the morning." I had the sense yesterday evening to write a note, knowing that I would forget to check. However, I neglected to tell myself what I was checking. Getting old sucks.

On Sunday night, I will be at the Madonna concert in Atlanta. I fully expect the most awe-inducing show that I've ever seen. I'm also pretty excited just to have a couple of days off work, and a weekend away from yard-slave laboring, even if it is just for a road trip to Atlanta.

Brent and Crystal have raised good kids so far. Annika and Jake are tough, active little ones. No one ever stops to whine over a bruise; they just pick themselves up and keep moving, no matter what happens. On the other hand, I've heard Jake scream loud enough to blast paint off of a wall when he was put to bed. And I've heard him keep this up for 30 minutes or more. So keeping them for a weekend was certain to be an adventure.

Mrs theskinnyonbenny and I went up to Natchitoches this weekend for the Fourth of July. Crystal and Brent were in town with all of their kids (they're up to three of them for those who have lost count). There's nothing too major or exciting to report, and I forgot my cameras until we were an hour out of Baton Rouge. So all I have are a few disjointed observations.

I can't get enough of the Tour de France on TV. I've been watching the tour since all we got was a half-hour highlight show in the evening. Now, OLN shows us every grueling minute three times a day, so if I make the slightest effort to watch, I can catch the stage. This year, TIVO makes it all the more viewable, since I can skip the commercials and start the viewing when I'm ready for it.

Last night, while I was walking Daisy, my Ipod ran out of juice. It was a little different with just the sounds of the night rather than the soundtrack that Ipod chooses for me. Daisy and I usually walk at 9:00. I sometimes get asked why we walk at such an odd hour. Well, here are the reasons: