The Seventh

Whew. What a day.

I hate meterologists. All of them. I think we should take all of the money that we spend on college programs for them, for all their Doppler and NexRad crap, for all the TV channels, for all the jobs, computers, and sattelites and use it to pay for a public health insurance option for migrant workers. Seriously. What a waste of time and resources. They are wrong so much more often then they are right. Nationalize meteorology--one government agency to do it all. I'm all about socializing THAT.

Today, wild thunderstorms with tornadoes and hail were predicted for right in the middle of Connor's outdoor birthday party. But, at 10am when we said we'd make the "game time decision" to go or not go, the forecasts were all looking invalid and as if the really awful stuff would come later. So, rather than cancel, we decided to hedge our bets and move it up an hour and half.

What happened? It was a beautiful day. All day. We didn't even need to move it up. But it was fine that we did because it actually made the evening a bit more relaxing. The boys played miniature golf and hit the batting cages. After the party, a bunch of them were able to stay and use their tokens for a small bucket of balls and we hit the driving range together. They all seemed to really enjoy it and it was nice to meet a few of Connor's friends from school that I did not know.

Happy Birthday, Handsome!