The fifteen levels of playoffs have gone too far. I don't mind that they are in basketball (also known as running ping pong) or football ( also known as crunch, crunch, bang, bang, who really gives a crap?) or the Olympics (which should really be sponsored by Pfizer) but to be playing the World Series this late in the year is ridiculous. It may snow in Philadelphia tonight. I intend to stay up and watch the game. I took a long nap after my walk today so that I don't fall asleep. So much for the no television resolution but it is the WORLD SERIES! Shame on the fool that allowed things to go this far! This is BASEBALL, the national pastime.
It used to be so nice to go to a ball game. A cold beer, several hot dogs, popcorn, sausages and peppers were an addition that was acceptible, and a slight sunburn made the day perfect.
Now it looks like hot cocoa and nachos with ski parkas and gloves. No more "Kill the Umpire!", now it will be REPLAY, REPLAY, REPLAY! This is baseball, not synchronized swimming. We need a little more John McEnroe and a lot less Frosty the Snowman. This is the sport where you can jump to your feet when a human being lofts a ball, that is going over a hundred miles an hour, over the Green Monster. Do you get the same feeling when when an oversized monster makes a slam dunk or a Bambi-like receiver catchs a ball in the end zone? This is the sport of Lou Gherig and Joe DiMAGGIO and TED WILLIAMS and Kirk Gibson (will I ever forget that moment?). The world has changed. Not all change is good (are you listening Obama?) There is no smoking in the Cask and Flagon. There are no more nickel Cokes. You have to pay to get your telephone fixed. There are no more Carmellow Bars. THERE WILL BE PEOPLE DRINKING LATTES AT THE WORLD SERIES! Do you think that the Bambino would have had several Lattes and Nachos before each game. He would have had to leave the park to smoke his cigar.
I have heard that the problem with America today is that there are no more heroes. I think the problem is that there are too many sissies! We need a ball park where the beer taps flow, the hot dog rolls are graced with butter,and the vendors walk up and down the steps with ice cream sandwiches and chocolate covereds. IF YOU BUILD IT, THEY WILL COME! Where have you gone Jolting Joe?
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
"And rain on me.".
Yesterday, just barely yesterday as I am up so early having already gotten eight hours sleep, was spaghetti sauce and sausages. The sauce came out fine even though I forgot to put the anchovies in it. A full head of garlic and some red wine ensured that the taste was pleasing. The parmesan rinds provide enough MSG to compensate for the lack of anchovies.
It was raining while I was assembling the sauce but it had stopped by the time that the simmering had started. As the sauce has to simmer for six hours, it looked like a good time for a walk. So the umbrella and I went for a stroll. The weather was cool but not uncomfortably so. When I decided that I had walked far enough, I headed back to where I live. The rain tried to start again but resolved itself into an almost liquid mist. I was going to put up the umbrella but the mist felt so pleasant that I just kept walking. It was like being at the seashore in the very early morning. When I got home I was DAMP! Change to dry clothes, put on warm socks and slippers, fry up the sausages, and wait three hours for the sauce. HMMM, what's that over on the counter? A very large bottle of Burgundy that has already been opened! Out came Stephen Hawking's book, out came a wine glass, and out came the sniffles. I guess that I am past the age where I can go walking in the rain with no side effects. So from now on it will have to be rain on the street, rain on the tree, rain on the sea but no rain on me.
A big dish of bucatini and sauce and sausages later, it was time for a nap. The nap lasted until one o'clock this morning. The good news is that it was another day of no T.V..
Outside there are rumblings of thunder and it will be a long while until daybreak. When it gets light I will go walking. It is too enjoyable to be forestalled by a few sniffles. I still have five quarts of sauce to revel in. Perhaps I will need some more Burgundy. Port may be a better choice for such a day but port has proven itself stronger than I am. Port and peaches yes, port and spaghetti, a sacrilege.
Sacrilege, the word reminds me of an old Catholic adage. "Abortion is a sacrilege. If men had the babies, abortion would be a sacrement.".
It was raining while I was assembling the sauce but it had stopped by the time that the simmering had started. As the sauce has to simmer for six hours, it looked like a good time for a walk. So the umbrella and I went for a stroll. The weather was cool but not uncomfortably so. When I decided that I had walked far enough, I headed back to where I live. The rain tried to start again but resolved itself into an almost liquid mist. I was going to put up the umbrella but the mist felt so pleasant that I just kept walking. It was like being at the seashore in the very early morning. When I got home I was DAMP! Change to dry clothes, put on warm socks and slippers, fry up the sausages, and wait three hours for the sauce. HMMM, what's that over on the counter? A very large bottle of Burgundy that has already been opened! Out came Stephen Hawking's book, out came a wine glass, and out came the sniffles. I guess that I am past the age where I can go walking in the rain with no side effects. So from now on it will have to be rain on the street, rain on the tree, rain on the sea but no rain on me.
A big dish of bucatini and sauce and sausages later, it was time for a nap. The nap lasted until one o'clock this morning. The good news is that it was another day of no T.V..
Outside there are rumblings of thunder and it will be a long while until daybreak. When it gets light I will go walking. It is too enjoyable to be forestalled by a few sniffles. I still have five quarts of sauce to revel in. Perhaps I will need some more Burgundy. Port may be a better choice for such a day but port has proven itself stronger than I am. Port and peaches yes, port and spaghetti, a sacrilege.
Sacrilege, the word reminds me of an old Catholic adage. "Abortion is a sacrilege. If men had the babies, abortion would be a sacrement.".
Monday, October 27, 2008
Another wonderful day
Today was much like yesterday. The Sun was shining, the birds were singing (really only one crow and the sound was much like the sound that I make when I try to sing), and the leaves were everywhere. I am becoming fond of asparagus, the pencil thick ones not the thumb thick ones. I have plans for my infamous ten gallon spaghetti sauce tomorrow.
Two days without television, I am so proud of myself! I am not usually awake at this time of night but I got a call from a telemarketer about seven P.M. and have been unable to get back to sleep. I mentioned to the lady that there are restrictions on the time that they can call but she told me that it is several hours earlier where she is.
Tomorrow will be cooking and another walk. I shouldn't call what I do a walk. It is an amble. It is so nice to have the time to slowly move along, noticing the small things that enrich this world. I saw a wooly bear caterpillar with a stripe so wide that it reached to the end. BRRRRR! I must find my wool hat and long underwear, I will probably be needing them soon. I tried the heat and it came on. I shut it back off but I am looking forward to the days of sitting in a warm place watching the snow fall outside the window. Snow, what a joy it is. It covers the blemishes of the Earth and seems to say "All is well, errors are forgotten, let's start over.". It tickles the nose and bites the toes and justifies hot cocoa. It is as much a part of New England as the granite and the beans and the maple syrup and the codfish cakes. Would the symphony of Spring be so grand without the prelude of Winter? Will this global warming thing banish snow angels from our lives? It would seem to be an empty world without them.
Two days without television, I am so proud of myself! I am not usually awake at this time of night but I got a call from a telemarketer about seven P.M. and have been unable to get back to sleep. I mentioned to the lady that there are restrictions on the time that they can call but she told me that it is several hours earlier where she is.
Tomorrow will be cooking and another walk. I shouldn't call what I do a walk. It is an amble. It is so nice to have the time to slowly move along, noticing the small things that enrich this world. I saw a wooly bear caterpillar with a stripe so wide that it reached to the end. BRRRRR! I must find my wool hat and long underwear, I will probably be needing them soon. I tried the heat and it came on. I shut it back off but I am looking forward to the days of sitting in a warm place watching the snow fall outside the window. Snow, what a joy it is. It covers the blemishes of the Earth and seems to say "All is well, errors are forgotten, let's start over.". It tickles the nose and bites the toes and justifies hot cocoa. It is as much a part of New England as the granite and the beans and the maple syrup and the codfish cakes. Would the symphony of Spring be so grand without the prelude of Winter? Will this global warming thing banish snow angels from our lives? It would seem to be an empty world without them.
The colors of life
Yesterday was a refreshing long overdue. I went for a walk and once again was heartened by the colors of Fall. I cooked a nice meal and didn't watch television, congratulating myself on achieving a goal I often set but seldom achieve. I went to bed while it was still light out but during the night I kept waking up, realizing that I was having dreams about things that happened when I was very young.
Finally I lay awake thinking. I realized that the melancholy of the past few days had passed. I have come to accept what I am, not what I should have been. I didn't do what I should have or was capable of, I just DID. Then a pleasing thought came to me. Why isn't there a color called melancholy? There is cerulean blue and burnt sienna, why can't Crayola make a melancholy? I imagine it would be sort of a lightish purple. Not the deep blackness of despair or the fiery orange of anger or the heartstopping greeness of some dark haired women's eyes but a gentle purple that says I am not a merry sunshine but I am going to be O.K.. The common phrase is "I am blue.". That doesn't begin to describe the feeling of melancholy. The sky can be a brilliant blue and gladden the heart, the sea can be a blue that twinkles in the Sun and lifts the spirit. Blue is not an acceptible definition. A nice gentle purple, not the deep dark of beet water or the foreboding purple of venous bleeding or the permanence of the stain that comes from those purple berries that grow by the side of the road on upright stalks. I was young and wore my new school clothes outside before school began and got into those berries. The carmine fire that shot from my Mother's eyes soon faded as she attempted to remove the stains. Somewhere, in a landfill far away there, there is a pair of chinos that look like they were at a Grateful Dead concert. Somewhere, in a landfill in Texas, there is a pair of white sandals with the red mud of the Red River muting their alabaster newness. That was one of my proudest moments, a time when I did do the right thing. The tears of a child should never be allowed to multiply, they are an anathema to the world.
Finally I lay awake thinking. I realized that the melancholy of the past few days had passed. I have come to accept what I am, not what I should have been. I didn't do what I should have or was capable of, I just DID. Then a pleasing thought came to me. Why isn't there a color called melancholy? There is cerulean blue and burnt sienna, why can't Crayola make a melancholy? I imagine it would be sort of a lightish purple. Not the deep blackness of despair or the fiery orange of anger or the heartstopping greeness of some dark haired women's eyes but a gentle purple that says I am not a merry sunshine but I am going to be O.K.. The common phrase is "I am blue.". That doesn't begin to describe the feeling of melancholy. The sky can be a brilliant blue and gladden the heart, the sea can be a blue that twinkles in the Sun and lifts the spirit. Blue is not an acceptible definition. A nice gentle purple, not the deep dark of beet water or the foreboding purple of venous bleeding or the permanence of the stain that comes from those purple berries that grow by the side of the road on upright stalks. I was young and wore my new school clothes outside before school began and got into those berries. The carmine fire that shot from my Mother's eyes soon faded as she attempted to remove the stains. Somewhere, in a landfill far away there, there is a pair of chinos that look like they were at a Grateful Dead concert. Somewhere, in a landfill in Texas, there is a pair of white sandals with the red mud of the Red River muting their alabaster newness. That was one of my proudest moments, a time when I did do the right thing. The tears of a child should never be allowed to multiply, they are an anathema to the world.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
FIX-IT
Yesterday was a wonderful day for walking. The Sun was shining, the air was the same temperature as me, and the leaves accented each footstep with a pleasing crunch. The palette of the maples, with its reds and oranges and purples and greens and yellows and browns sang of the glory of New England in the Fall. I stopped by the waterfall to feel the moisture in its breath and listen to the laughter in its voice.
Unfortunately it was also a good time for thinking. The other night I watched a comedy show that had a man that was supposed to be a financial expert. He was asked what he thought that the government should do about the financial crisis. He said "FIX IT, FIX IT, FIX IT!".
I started thinking about fix-it. Ever since I was eighteen, I have been involved with FIX-IT. As an electrician, as an electronics repairman, as a telephone technician, as a roofer, as a homeowner, as a Father, and as a husband, the demand has always been FIX-IT! I feel that I succeeded in all except the last. At the waterfall the thought exploded in my mind "How can I fix it when I am the one that broke it?". The one that broke something is not the resource to go to when it is time to fix something. Perhaps it is time for the Democrats to take over. A change of captains and venue is sometimes the only answer. It has been in my experience.
So much for the regrets of the past. Today will be roast chicken, mashed potatoes, string beans, and squash. There is also the friendliest bottle of Sauvigon Blanc out there for the sauce. It is a very large bottle and I only need about one half cup for the sauce. I wonder what will happen to the rest during the two and one half hours that I am waiting for the chicken to cook. HMMMM? I like cooking with wine very much, I like wining with cooking even more.
Yesterday was a wonderful day for walking. The Sun was shining, the air was the same temperature as me, and the leaves accented each footstep with a pleasing crunch. The palette of the maples, with its reds and oranges and purples and greens and yellows and browns sang of the glory of New England in the Fall. I stopped by the waterfall to feel the moisture in its breath and listen to the laughter in its voice.
Unfortunately it was also a good time for thinking. The other night I watched a comedy show that had a man that was supposed to be a financial expert. He was asked what he thought that the government should do about the financial crisis. He said "FIX IT, FIX IT, FIX IT!".
I started thinking about fix-it. Ever since I was eighteen, I have been involved with FIX-IT. As an electrician, as an electronics repairman, as a telephone technician, as a roofer, as a homeowner, as a Father, and as a husband, the demand has always been FIX-IT! I feel that I succeeded in all except the last. At the waterfall the thought exploded in my mind "How can I fix it when I am the one that broke it?". The one that broke something is not the resource to go to when it is time to fix something. Perhaps it is time for the Democrats to take over. A change of captains and venue is sometimes the only answer. It has been in my experience.
So much for the regrets of the past. Today will be roast chicken, mashed potatoes, string beans, and squash. There is also the friendliest bottle of Sauvigon Blanc out there for the sauce. It is a very large bottle and I only need about one half cup for the sauce. I wonder what will happen to the rest during the two and one half hours that I am waiting for the chicken to cook. HMMMM? I like cooking with wine very much, I like wining with cooking even more.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
This morning I read the blog of one of my daughters concerning raising orphaned or abandoned kittens. My heart filled with pride over the tender and sweet person she has become. She has an infinite supply of love for living things, excepting spiders, and to achieve such a level of empathy is the highest state a human being can aspire to.
I tried to leave a comment but was unable to. Yesterday my Brother brought me a new computer. It has all of the bells and whistles of the new age of computers. It can go from zero to sixty in a flash, stop on a dime and give you nine cents change. He spotted it in someone's trash and took it home and brought it back to life. He is amazing with anything that has moving parts. NASA could get the Hubble telescope fixed if they could only find a spacesuit big enough to fit him. The only problem would be that they would have to let him drive.
The groceries for the month of November are all in and I am looking forward to the cold weather, cooking, and reading under a nice warm blankie while watching the snow fall outside. Some cocoa and grahamn crackers will set the tone. So here in New England we are hunkering down for the seasons of rest and recharging. Soon up on the roof there will arise such a clatter!
I tried to leave a comment but was unable to. Yesterday my Brother brought me a new computer. It has all of the bells and whistles of the new age of computers. It can go from zero to sixty in a flash, stop on a dime and give you nine cents change. He spotted it in someone's trash and took it home and brought it back to life. He is amazing with anything that has moving parts. NASA could get the Hubble telescope fixed if they could only find a spacesuit big enough to fit him. The only problem would be that they would have to let him drive.
The groceries for the month of November are all in and I am looking forward to the cold weather, cooking, and reading under a nice warm blankie while watching the snow fall outside. Some cocoa and grahamn crackers will set the tone. So here in New England we are hunkering down for the seasons of rest and recharging. Soon up on the roof there will arise such a clatter!
Friday, October 17, 2008
To be a Red Sox fan is not for the faint of heart. They can take you from the depths of despair to the heights of exultation in a moment. Some say no one can ever match Kirk Gibson's moment in the World Series. That may be true but watching Carl Yastremski bat in a losing cause in the ninth inning of the last game, refusing to go down on a called strike or watching Ted Williams hit a home run with the last swing of the bat in his career comes close. All those years of disappointment were not disappointing, They were full of drama and hope and pride. I have been listening to people lament over the trading of Manny Ramirez. Where does that compare to the trading of Babe Ruth? What a town for baseball! Who else has anything to compare with Fenway Park? What other city has a skyscaper that announces the state of the game? Thank you Red Sox. You have added admirably to the joy of living. You have pretty good sausages and peppers also.
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