America’s 250th birthday is akin to what my 25th was awhile back: fat, job I hated, no girlfriend. Let’s hope the country pulls out of this at least as well as I did.

As some of you know, we’ll be heading up to the Berkshires for the weekend: our annual retreat (and surrender) with (very, oy) long-time friends. It will include some nice chamber pot music at T-Wood, good eats at the Water Street Grill (on Water Street), and (maybe) a ballgame (Collegiate league) in North Adams, MA, the Steeple Cats, all kicked off with the traditional whiny and cheesy fest at the infamous Berkshire Valley Motel, infamous, in this case, meaning “not famous.”

We’re heading up a day early and staying over tonight in Poughkeepsie, dining at Tavern 23, and cranking the AC up as far as it goes at the Third-Best Western Hotel.

All of which is to say, broadcasting may be spotty these next few days.

When I say “we,” above, that’s just Linda and me. The rest of our staff: Ana, Sarah, Phil, and George, will be at “The Wedding,” of course — full report to follow. (Hope Phil gets some good shots for us before blacking out.) Mazel Tov, kids! Trav — take good care of her.

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Keep cool, chatterheads!