I was actually at Camp Napalot this afternoon. Not sure if that is close. I slept in after we spent last evening with friends of ours, and the husband poured probably half a bottle of Aberlour down my throat. Then I got up and did some yard work, followed by nine holes at the club. It wasn't my aged irons that let me down today but rather the driver (one out of bounds) and the flat stick (two three-putts). I clocked in with a mediocre 47. The yard work and the golf did me in. Hence, I went to Camp Napalot for about 40 minutes before being called to duty to grill Sunday night dinner. It might bother you that I was the most conservative at dinner, which as you suspect is a minor miracle in Naptown.