Nobody had classes all day long, except possibly Jeff.I did some of my reading, listened to some music and daydreamed. This was a lot like last semest...er except I was thinking about it differently.A little after Dr. Phil came on at 5:00, I got some gumbo out of the fridge, put it in a small pot on a low flame and settled in to watch.Jeff came home around 5:30 lugging a heavy collection of books, muttering to himself. He put them down and met me half way, taking me in his arms for a yummy. M. to say we'd have to rain-check dinner because one of her friends had ended up in the hospital, and she needed to go see her. I was disappointed, but told her I understood. Later, I went out to put the top up on my car, and she walked around the corner of her house heading for her car. She apologized again, asked me how I felt, and told me I should get some rest. Not likely after seeing her...she was wearing a a peach coloured button-front blouse which was only buttoned to her bra line, black. Why not? Tomorrow was a day off for almost everybody -- Independence Day! But not for the Bluefield Orioles. We'd be back here, at the same old stand, for an afternoon game.At least we didn't play many doubleheaders anymore.My players had headed for the concrete-block building that served as our locker room and shower, but I lagged behind to see if I could get another look at Orlie Martinez. I was peeking around the edge of the dugout from inside when she caught me at it.Maybe she'd been. Diana’s face was red as she turned with the stack of dishes and went to the sink. All the women got up to help with cleanup. As Jeff glanced in Diana’s direction, Jennie and Melissa were hugging her.“She’s right,” Fred said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “A good handgun shooter develops fairly easy. To get better than that, you’ve got to work at it. A lot. And you can never be satisfied. Even if you shoot a perfect score, you can always tighten the group or shoot a little faster.” He.