Best wishes from Bowling Green
It's 45 degrees outside with 15-20 mile per hour winds, scattered showers, and Ryan is somewhere out there playing disc golf. I wish him the best of luck. I have chosen to quietly tuck myself into an Internet cafe just off the town square in Bowling Green, Kentucky and from in here, it looks really cold out there. I was out in that mess earlier and it was wet, cold, and cold some more. I'm also entered in this tournament, which is the second largest tournament of it's kind, but I'm a fair-weather sports participant.

To me, anyone who would pay good money to stand in the rain, play a sport, and complain about the weather the entire time falls into the category of Doesn't Have The Sense That God Gave a Goose. My grandma used to say that and I think it applies in this type of adversity. If pride comes before the fall, then foolish pride must come right before the head cold. I don't know if it's just because I'm older now or the region of the country that I live in now, but I hear the words of my elders from a forgotten childhood much louder and clearer now.

And as romanticized as I remember those seemingly-arbitrary colloquialisms, all they were really saying was, "Don't be a dumbass Shawn, use that hat rack sitting on top of your shoulders every now and then." I think my dad may have actually said that to me at some point. Grandma would have approved of my decision today. Screw the opinions of those 449 guys out there walking around in near-freezing rain to prove to each other who has the grandest genitalia, Grandma lived to be 95 years-old for a reason. I knew that I've always appreciated wisdom.