Alright, guys. I'm spent. The Milkmaid and I both made it all the way through the often-punishing Flagstaff Extreme course last night, which is something that only 30% of people manage to do (our group seemed to bear out these results correctly). We stayed at a sucky Super 8 and drove home today, and as low-class as the hotel was, it's still been an adventure to be on our own for this long, which is simply something we've not done since she was pregnant with the first one (and we didn't get real adventurous when she was carrying, of course).

Today, 14-year-old Kyle Gibson faces 11-year-old (though this age is possibly falsified) Erasmo Ramirez, who in ten and a third innings manages to have an ERA much worse than Kyle's. He'll be pitching to octogenarian Henry Blanco, though, so that should provide the necessary leadership to set him up for success.

I'll see about ten minutes of this before I head out to work and half-heartedly watch it there on what's likely to be a busy day. Bring it home, dudes.