Barack Obama's Diary

Dear Diary:  Alone again tonight because M. and the girls are on a trip to Mount Rushmore. Could  she be measuring it up for a surprise giant sculpture of me?
What a fitting tribute  that would be
To my immortal presidency.
 How like Shakespearean I sound when writing my diary. How felicitous my prose!
When they've finished taking their  measure of the mountain, M.  and the girls are flying onwards to Vegas, where they'll spend the night at Caesar's Palace. Some  folks are saying that there comes a  time when you've had  enough vacation.  I'd like to see them say that to Michelle face-to face. Scary.
Meanwhile, I'm left in DC taking the heat for everything from George Zimmerman to $4 gas.  But at least I'm getting a break from last year's frozen peas. Marvellous Marv has laid out my jammies and  tonight I get to cuddle up with Boo-boo, my blankie, to keep the scary dreams away: What if  there's not enough room on  Mount Limbaugh  Rushbaugh Rushmore  for my  beautiful ears. Shall I compare them to a summer's day ?  No, they are more lovely and more temperate.  A quick prayer to myself. And so to bed.