One of my favorite jokes is that while I’ve always known my wife is smarter than me, she clinched it by making sure she spent her 40th birthday in New Orleans, while four months later, I spent mine at work.
This year, we spent her birthday at “Hamilton” in London, and while I did have to work on my birthday yesterday, I decided I also wanted to do something fun.
I wanted to go to a baseball game. Continue reading “Birthdays and baseball”
My last year of graduate school, I was an intern in the newsroom at WAMC-Northeast Public Radio in Albany, New York.
It was roughly 20 hours a week in the afternoons, and I absolutely loved it, so much that when they offered me a chance to do the same job, but paid, for a few months after the internship ended to help cover for some absences, I couldn’t agree fast enough.
Continue reading “A favorite birthday memory”
I’m a fan of the Liverpool soccer team, so when my wife and I took the train from London five years ago, the reason was to take a tour of Anfield.
While we were in town, we also went to the downtown shopping area, and we took a nice walk down by the harbor before we got back on the train.
Continue reading “Vacations are not real life: Volume …”
Of course I can!
“They have short legs, fluffy butts and were off to the races in the Southern California nationals that took place at the Santa Anita race track.”
This, from a story by ABC7 in Los Angeles about the inaugural Southern California nationals at Santa Anita racetrack. Yes, racing corgis. (If you watch the video for the linked story, ignore that the male anchor looks like he wants to hide somewhere.) Continue reading “Can I interest you in news about corgis?”
It hit me during the barrage of pharmaceutical ads I saw over the weekend … maybe the one where people were salsa dancing for some reason.
If sports were marketed like drugs for your heart, diabetes, restless leg syndrome or whatever, the benefits would be fun, a chance to get away from real life, hours of entertainment and fellowship with your fellow fans or participants.
Of course, all drugs have side effects, and one of those would be white-hot irrational rage. Continue reading “Sports are a drug”
I got an email at work today — “We all know those busy powerhouse moms that do it all! You may even be one of them!”
Said email also addressed me by name … my first name. Anyone know a woman named Bill? I don’t.
It was probably a testament to the wonders of mail merge or whatever automation is used to send out those emails, but humans haven’t always been great in this regard, either. Continue reading “Nope … not a mom, and my jumper stinks”
Sasha’s in the window I just opened because it’s warm outside.
I’m sitting on the couch. Continue reading “The noise mostly stops for a moment”
When did I become a “sir”?
Did it happen when I wasn’t expecting it?
It must have, because otherwise, I would have stopped it before it could start. Continue reading “I don’t think I can handle this ‘sir’ stuff”
“My little campus has grown up.“
That was what my wife Suzi said yesterday as we walked through the new dining hall at her alma mater, Mount Holyoke College. Continue reading “Mount Holyoke husband”
For months, it has been sitting there, taunting me from the bottom of my hamper …
… one black dress sock. Continue reading “Socks, reunited”
A Silly Place 