Independence. Only in America.

We took the Grandpa-led, 45-minute, dime tour of the rehab facility today.  We have decided that it is in his, and everyone else's, best interest for him to become the resident billiard shark/bookmaker of Town Center Terrace.  The pool table is at the perfect height for Grandpa in his wheelchair and we observed no shortage of potential marks as we wandered the grounds.  We are confident that he will do very well there.

Kathi has been his acting roommate for the past couple of nights and has observed that Grandpa has been having some trouble sleeping.  He is no doubt experiencing these difficulties as he is contemplating the various advantages and drawbacks associated with hosting a regular, high-stakes card game in his suite.  Tonight, however, all such planning will be put on hold as he will be administered a dose of Ambien ostensibly to help him sleep.  It seems to me, however, that the administration has gotten wind of his hijinx and is trying to subtly nip his shenanigans in the bud.  I bid them good luck.  They have no idea who they're dealing with!

Tonight for dinner: crab.  Tomorrow night: leftover crab.  By this time next week Grandpa will no doubt be enjoying filet mignon paid for with the proceeds of illicit activities.  Only in America!

As we celebrate our national independence, the scheming continues.  Soon the patriarch of the great Shepherd clan will own the Town Center Terrace Rehabilitation Facility.

Jon, Sarah, Andrew, and...... and........ and......... oh yeah, Anna!