Matzah, Matzah, Man

Ugh... two sedarim and about forty tons of unleavened bread going through the digestive system make for a very sleep-deprived Efrex.

Baby 'frex is now consistently rolling from his back to his front, which I suppose after the three thousandth time will cease to elicit squealing, cheering, and serious consideration of future Nobel prizes, but hasn't just yet.

Y'know, I'm almost hoping the Mets start losing, so that we can have decent conversations in the office again. We're so scared of jinxing the current winning streak that we've hardly talked baseball at all. This is a very dangerous thing, as it means that now I can start talking Scrabble with Richie. When we're not working through the legal anagrams for "sedarim¹" (itself a legal word, by the way), we're busy yakking it up about the nutjobs who play this game. Someday, I guess I'll get back into working on my competitive skills; I'm still on the club email list, and it's interesting to see people who I know get better and better (one guy whom I've played twice looks to be getting ready to jump into the "big head" division at the club, and a couple of other people have been placing regularly at the top of the weekly tournament ranks). They handed my you-know-what to me when last I played 'em over a year ago; I shudder to think about how I'd fare against 'em now.

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¹SIDEARM, MISREAD, and ADMIRES, in case you were wondering.