Quiet. Nothing to write. Except I have had diarrhea. I’m on the porch and looking out over the lake but keep running to the bathroom every ten minutes. I probably ate too many hotdogs last night. I’ve been reading all day, which is okay. No complaints except for the bathroom troubles.
Annie called to ask if I would like to go roller skating. I said yes but not today. “I don’t feel well so I’m staying around the house.” I did not elaborate.
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Wait. The game was on TV. I just watched Nolan Ryan of the Angels pitch his second no-hitter of the year against the Detroit Tigers. The other no-hitter was against Kansas City. It was in color, too, because Dr. Laighles’ TV is out of this world.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer said as his voice crackled over the speaker, “only two other pit
