Someday, our great-grandkids will ask about Trevor May, and we can say, "Yes, little Johnny and Jill, we saw something truly amazing that 9th day of August, in the year of our Lord, twenty-fourteen." Nah. Not going to be a Debbie Downer. He'll bounce back good. Meanwhile, working at the store, a young guy just came in and asked for some camouflage pants. Told him I hadn't seen them anywhere. (Try the orange roughy. I'm here all week. Tip your server nice. And drive careful going home.)