I used to look forward to the weekend to relax and recharge. That seems like a long forgotten dream, like the one on the stranded island being fed grapes by the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. Or something like that. Saturday, sparring at 9, black belt at 10:45, get home, eat, then go to Connor's soccer game, get home, run, then requirements. Felt like a a dog with peanut butter on his tail, trying to lick it off. Sunday, the supposed day of rest, started with church, then I had to run up to Lake Norman to take care of the lawn at our rental house. February, and I'm doing lawn maintenance already. And of course, there's always fifteen other items that need repair to adjusting. I get home, a little tired, and my lovely wife is all smiles in the driveway. She just bought a tree at Lowes, and guess who gets...