Every year, we try to get away to the beach for a week before training camps open. This year, a 16-person throng of family members has descended on an undisclosed location along the Atlantic Ocean for a week of too much sun, too much food, and too much late-night poker with too much Mike’s Black Cherry Hard Lemonade.
As a result, there’s won’t be too much PFT Live this week. Actually, there won’t be any.
But I’ll be posting all week, since the work I do isn’t really work. It’s even less like work when banging the buttons of a laptop from the edge of the pool at a rental house that looks a little like Don Eladio’s Mexican retreat.
Hopefully, there will be no visitors bearing Zafiro Añejo.
The show returns next Monday, assuming that we will eventually get through the 20-mile summertime weekend bottleneck at the spot in Virginia where I-77 merges with I-81.