It never rains but it pours.

This is apparently not a good year to know me.

My cell phone was ringing in my coat pocket out in the dining room last night, and I didn't think much about it because generally if the cellie rings and doesn't get answered, the caller will try the land line next, and if they don't, then it was a wrong number.

It wasn't. When I checked the voice mail this morning, it turned out to have been a friend of Frank James calling to let me know he was in the hospital up in Lafayette. I'm not sure why yet, and I'm not about to call a cell phone back at 0900 on a Saturday, but I'll be calling to see what I can find out later this morning.

Please keep Farmer Frank in your thoughts and prayers.

I am hoping that bad things really do come in a maximum number of three.
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