Sprouts continued

I checked on my sprouts this morning, and I found that some piddly, but nevertheless annoying, fuzzy white mold had started growing on a couple of my sprouts.  A couple root hairs looked like they had gone home for Christmas and come back to town with white ermine boas.  I'm not the sort of person who loses sleep over mold—well, actually, I have lost sleep over mold.  I used to have really bad asthma, and mold made me wheeze like none other.  Riveting.

      
I think it's about time that I stop considering myself a good bowler.  I went bowling last night and I bowled atrociously.  Rather than publish one article in a food magazine, my New Year's resolution should have been, stop lying to yourself about your bowling prowess.  I threw one strike and four gutter balls.  I'm a terrible bowler.  

There isn't too much more to say this morning.  Still, though, I should leave you with something: You know those gambling machines that you pump quarters into in hopes that your quarter will be the one that causes all those other quarters to teeter over the edge of the shelf and dump into the metal cup below where you can scoop them up by the handful?  One time I robbed one of those machines.