On Squirrels, Penguins, and Ravens

In all seriousness, today is commonly recognized as an important day of celebration. MLK, Jr. Day is a truly righteous holiday, allowing all Americans to consider the sacrifices that Dr. King made on behalf of equality for all people in this country. He is a true American hero, and he deserves the recognition that he receives, now and forever.

However, this voice in the wilderness is not prone to staying serious for too long, so let’s move on to matters less important, but far more open to ridicule. Today is a confluence of three wonderful things for us here at Central Standard. The first is a warm up for an even more momentous day next month, the second allows me to really put my true personality on display, and the third is something that makes me prouder than I have any real right to be.

First, today is Squirrel Appreciation Day. Many of you already know of my love for Groundhog Day (my favorite minor holiday), so I was pleased to discover that today was set aside for a more diminutive rodent relative of the whistle pig. Not only am I pleased to have a day to acknowledge all of the diligent hard work of squirrels everywhere, burying acorns, nesting in people’s attics, and destroying more bird feeders than any other non-bird yard animal known to man, but I am happy to have this day as a stand in for yesterday’s Penguin Appreciation Day, which, sadly, I neglected to recognize in due time. (A sorrowful tip of the pen to all of my penguin friends out there.) As a result, all of squirreldom receives all of my love today.  And, they shall receive it in a most excellent way, since today is also, National Hugging Day.

There is nothing like a good hug, is there? One thing that makes me the happiest is to hug someone. As a matter of fact, I have been known to hug complete strangers while walking down the street. It is just hard not to show your love for your fellow man when all it takes is to wrap the two arms you probably have around the torso that another person probably has. Needless to say, hugs become more complicated when approaching someone without a torso, but a dedicated hugger can usually accomplish a decent enough hug with nothing more than a neck or a leg to grapple with. And, of course, non-torso situation really do not come up that often.

So, today brings together two celebrations that certainly can be recognized jointly. I charge you all with going out today and hugging a squirrel!  And, while you are at it, give thanks that today is not Bear Appreciation Day, Mountain Lion Appreciation Day, nor Shark Appreciation Day.

Oh, yeah, and that third thing? How excited I was yesterday watching a collection of men whom I have no actual connection to, pound another collection of men I have no connection to into the turf of Gillette Stadium.  I know that it is irrational to feel pride that a team with a certain uniform wins a game. After all, what role did I have in the accomplishment? None. But, it would take someone with a better psychological mind to explain why so many of us feel the connection that we do to certain sports teams, and, in the long run, I don’t care. I am an unapologetic Ravens fan. I was there for their first game, and I have rooted them on no matter where I happen to live.  So, I say without shame that I did a little dance last night when the whistle blew, and the scoreboard read Baltimore 28, New England 13. Go Ravens! We’ll see you on February 3 in New Orleans. 

The March of History

This weekend, the Monkey House was enthralled and delighted by the success of the Baltimore Ravens in their playoff game against the Denver Broncos. With one more playoff win, the Ravens can play in Super Bowl XLVII on February 3, in New Orleans, LA. On this day in 1967, the very fist Super Bowl was played in Los Angeles, CA. The game was called the AFL-NFL World Championship, and a lot of things were different about football and the US, when the Green Bay Packers defeated the Kansas City Chiefs.

But that is not what I really want to talk to you about. Today, about a hundred years earlier (1870) to be exact, Thomas Nast published a political cartoon that gave the Democratic party its symbol: the jackass. They would prefer to refer to it as a donkey, most likely, but I think we can all agree that most Democrats, simply by nature of being politicians, are jackasses. Incidentally, four years later, Nast drew an elephant in a cartoon to represent the GOP, and, instantly, those jackasses became elephants.

That is not what I really want to talk about, either. In the world of letters, today was the day, in 1899, when California school teacher Edwin Markham published his poem, “The Man with the Hoe.” Inspired by Millet’s 1863 French painting of a similar name (only in French), the poem contains the lines, “Is this the Thing the Lord God made and gave / to have dominion over sea and land”? I sometimes feel that way when I look in the mirror and watch my bulbous nose spread slowly across my face. Anyway, a great scandal occurred when Markham’s poem was reprinted in an Eastern newspaper as “The Man with the Ho.” The paper broke sales records that day, but was forced to field countless complaints later for “not delivering the goods.”

Yet, again, that is not what I really wanted to talk to you about. In 1987, Paramount used this day to announce that they would place a 30-second ad for Diet Pepsi at the front of their videocassette release of Top Gun. So, the movie that gave us “the need for speed,” and miraculously bright shots of Tom Cruise’s pearly whites, may also be responsible for the thirty-five minutes of wretched merchandising in the movie theatres, today. Thank you Paramount for every Bod commercial I have ever had to tolerate.

However, let me get to my point since the previous is not what I wanted to talk about, either. What is really on my mind is that on this day, in 1981, Omaha, Nebraska, native Bob Gibson was elected to the Major League Baseball Hall of Fame in his first year on the ballot.  This is remarkable not because of Gibson’s stellar career, his ferocious personality, nor the fact that he hails from the largest city in my current home state.  This is remarkable because this year’s Hall of Fame balloting, 32 years later, produced not one inductee.  That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, not one baseball player currently being considered for inclusion was deemed worthy of the Hall.  Not Mark McGwire (again), not Roger Clemens, not Barry Bonds, not anyone. The highest vote getter, at 68% (you need 75% to get in), was Craig Biggio, a highly respected second baseman, in his first year of eligibility, whose claim to the Hall rests on his 3060 hits (a pretty good number).

And why is it that baseball's writers, who are the gatekeepers of the Hall of Fame, have found no one from among a heady list of recent stars to invite into the HoF? Well, I blame Lance Armstrong. His recent fall from grace has cast a pall upon every sportsman and woman of his era. After all, if Lance was a juicer, they all must have been, from Sammy Sosa to Smarty Jones.  And, if they were all cheating, do they belong in the pantheon of their sport?

I will let you decide. I gotta go…Oprah’s on!

The Most Frustrating Day

Monkey thinks she needs to get the dog out of the house. It's Sunday. I will be watching the Ravens. That means I will be screaming at the TV, most likely. They are playing the Patriots. That means I will be screaming at the TV more than usual, most likely. It is a Wild Card Playoff game. That means...well, you get the picture.

You might recall last year, I resolved (sort of) to not get so wrapped up in sports on TV. I am not doing that very well. But, as much frustration as it may cause me, as irritated as it seems to make me, as un-enjoyable as it might be for Monkey to be around me, it's actually kind of fun to get so wrapped up.

And now, it's game time.

New! New! New!

Happy New Year, everyone!

Things that are different this morning:

--dog is much better

--everything is one day older

--I am now a person who has seen AVATAR (in 2D)

--we are dangerously low on pie and cookies (the holidays must be coming to a close)

--Mizzou is embarrassed after dismantling by Navy

--about a million other things

Things that are the same this morning:

--it's snowing here (just flurries)

--the Ravens can still make the playoffs

--I am STILL only 40

--Monkey is still my favorite

--about a million other things

Snowshine Sun, Dog Soreness, and Raven Disgust

The last Monday of the old year has been a memorable one, for sure. First, it has finally stopped snowing here, and we are almost finished digging out (as a municipality). One side of our street has been plowed, and we expect the other side to be done sometime before spring. Our own walkways and driveways have been cleared and re-cleared over the course of the last four days or so. I am pretty sure the entire neighborhood is about tired of shoveling, snow blowing, vehicle pushing, etc. As a bonus, today, the sun came out for the first time in about forever.

Secondly, Ripken had another operation to remove some tumors from his torso. He had a similar operation last year at this time. None of the tumors were on his head, but he had one right on his sternum, so he is having a hard time finding a comfortable position to lay in. He is looking pretty miserable, six hours after his operation, but, after he keeps some food down and has a baby aspirin, he should be feeling better.

In an irrelevant vein, compared to the dog's recovery, I suffered the frustration and helpless disgust that is watching your NFL team basically outplay their rivals AGAIN, yet still lose due to boneheaded penalties and a lack of execution. Most likely, the Ravens will beat the Raiders on Sunday and make the playoffs, but, if they keep playing like they have (and nothing indicates that they won't), a loss wouldn't surprise me, but a deep run in the playoffs would.

Finally, we made a pretty tasty potato soup for lunch today, and we still have about ten pounds of gifted potatoes to get through!

It's Monday. It's Dark. It's Snowing.

It has been snowing for only a few hours, but LPS has called school for tomorrow. That is a nice treat, knowing about a snow day ahead of time. It's also nice to have a snow day on the day after PT conferences. It's a long day, and I appreciate not having to scurry around to get things ready in the morning after having left the building less than 12 hours before.

Monkey made a scrumptious butternut squash and peanut butter soup. It is a great recipe, especially since it has no iodide in it, making it ideal for Monkey while she is on her diet. But, it is so good, it is a good recipe for anytime.

Beside those two wonderful things, I am making myself crazy watching the Ravens-Packers game. I think if I never see another yellow penalty flag in my life, I will have seen enough in this game to last me.

Anyway, I'll be sleeping in tomorrow.

It' s Sunday. It's Dark. It's Snowing.

December arrived determined to wipe away any memories of a balmy November. Global warming is not on any one's mind today, here in Cornopolis. It's pretty chilly out there, and the snow has been falling slowly since about ten this morning. The next couple days could bring us six inches or so, all told. It probably won't close schools tomorrow or Tuesday, but it might be enough to make Parent Teacher conferences pretty poorly attended tomorrow night. You know how much I love PT conferences, eh?

It has been a pretty good weekend. The Florida-Alabama game was enjoyable. It wasn't a great game, but I was pulling for the Crimson Tide. I don't know why, but I have always liked Alabama, even as a tyke. And, equally inexplicably, I have never been a fan of the Gators. But, now that I think about it, that's probably Steve Spurrier's fault. Anyway, the Big 12 Championship game WAS exciting (unless you like offense), and unexpectedly competitive. Monkey asked me before the game if I thought it was going to be ugly. I told her I thought it would be, but I didn't mean ugly in the way it turned out.

In addition, the Steelers lost to the Raiders today. I feel a twinge of guilt, getting joy from others misery (see Florida, as well), but, when it comes to the Steelers, I know that their fans get as much satisfaction out of watching the Ravens flounder as we get out of their losses. But, in a less spiteful vein, Pittsburgh's loss (which is kind of inconceivable...as well as their loss two weeks ago to KC) opens up one more door, ever so slightly, for Baltimore to make it into the playoffs. Of course, the Ravens need to win on Monday night, and they need to keep winning, and they need Jacksonville to slip up at some point, but, with Pittsburgh's loss, they have an opportunity to move closer to the wild card.

Okay, no more sports talk.

Except to say that I jammed my finger playing b-ball this afternoon (not in the snow, in the church gym), and now I can't get my wedding ring on. Monkey is distraught, but I am wearing it on my right hand, and hoping the swelling subsides sooner, rather than later.

Okay, no more sports talk.

Except to say that the local ESPN radio station pulled my favorite talk show off the air this week. It was a show called THE SPREAD, and it featured former Husker All American Jason Peter. I liked the show for several reasons. One, it was on during my drive home (when I drove), so it became part of my routine. Two, Peter, a former defensive tackle who played a few seasons with the Carolina Panthers, was an unpolished, but thoroughly entertaining radio personality. And, three, Peter, a New Jersey native, had one of those East Coast accents (and attitudes) that used to make me a little homesick. Why the show was canceled, no one knows, but one day they were on the air, and the next day, they were gone. That happens in radio a lot.

Okay, no more sports talk.

Saturday, Monkey and I bought a new TV. But, they didn't have it in stock, so we have to pick it up Tuesday. I was thoroughly bummed, since we were going slightly larger, slightly more 16:9 aspect ratio, slightly more 1080p, and slightly more 120Hz. In sum, we were moving into the 21st century of TV receivers. I was thinking we would bring our shiny new LCD TV home on Saturday, hook it up, watch the Big 12 Championship, and then, on Monday, we could dig on the Ravens' Monday night appearance in all of their bright and shining (in black and purple) glory. Unfortunately, that ain't gonna happen. I got over it, but Monkey will tell you, I was one grumpy dude at the grocery store. At least I can watch the Army-Navy game (Go Navy!) on Saturday on the new tube.

I know, that non-sports item was awfully sporty. And, I haven't said a word about NCAA basketball.

Since Football Season Is Over, Let's Talk About Pie

I am surprisingly at peace with the result of the AFC Championship game. I thought we had them there for a moment, but then Polamalu happened.

Perspective: Fourteen other teams in the AFC did not get to play this weekend.

Feel Good Rationalization: Pittsburgh scored their touchdowns on a ridiculous improvised play and an interception. If you take those two plays away, Ravens win 14-9.

Follow-up Dose of Reality: You can't take those two plays away. Or, as my dad likes to say, "If a frog had wings...."

True Perspective: I hope that Willis Mcgahee is okay.

And, so, as my interest in the Super Bowl is less than it might have been, I'll look forward to that day in just a few weeks when pitchers and catchers report to sunny locales to play catch and jog and practice rolling wads of chew into wads of bubble gum and spit sunflower seeds and discuss what to do with the bazillions of dollars they have piled up around the yard.

Noticed this over at ESPN this evening.

My immediate reactions included a) as a fan of the Orioles, I support their acquisition of outfielder pie, b) they can only be a better team with outfielder pie, c) what exactly goes into outfielder pie?

I know Monkey will like this story. She loves pie.

Oh, and by the way, what was Garth Brooks doing singing at the Linclon Memorial, today? Shouldn't he be getting ready for San Diego Padres Spring Training (Garth Brooks' Personal Fantasy Camp)?

Can't Shake The Habit

So, if you're keeping score, I am doing well on my previous suggestions. I am reading more (or rather I was until this weekend...fell off the pace on Saturday, but that's no big thing). I am practicing more (still worried about being ready for Berry, Buck, Stipe, and Mills). I am still, however, getting far too worked up about my sports. But, you know what? I am not going to apologize for it. At least not right now.

It is, as I stated before, excruciating to watch the performance of the Ravens in the playoffs. I am jittery, jumpy, vocal, frustrated, elated, distraught, encouraged, heartsick, and proud...all before kick off. My antics have been documented. But, for those three plus hours that I am living and dying with my team, it's awesome. Afterwards, I feel exhausted. Since they've been winning, I feel thrilled. I remember how all of this felt in 2001, and I am loving feeling it again. As a realist, I am constantly aware that the end could come at any moment (of course, at this point, we know it either comes next week or not until the absolute end of the season), but I am enjoying the ride while it lasts. Most teams don't often get the chance to play for the Super Bowl, let alone IN the Super Bowl, so it is a great fortune to be able to root for my team next week. Imagine how out-of-their-minds ecstatic people in Arizona must be. They do know they have a football team, don't they?

As luck would have it, the showdown for the AFC Championship couldn't be a better match up. Baltimore at Pittsburgh. Two teams that are bitter divisional rivals. Two teams that have played each other as tightly as two teams can play each other. Two teams that, in many ways, are are similar as can be. A rivalry that has venom, intrigue, and history. I know it's the game that everyone in Baltimore and Pittsburgh wanted to see. I hope it lives up to the hype.

Things I'd Like To Do

I have never been one for resolutions. It always seemed too much like making plans. However, it is that time of year to think about what we have done and to think about what we'd like to do. I suppose there are a few things I would like to do in the coming days. I will not refer to them as resolutions. How about we call them suggestions to myself? The following suggestions are bouncing around in my head.

1. Practice more. I picked up the guitar about three years ago and started taking lessons about a year ago. I don't practice everyday. I want to try to practice everyday. Otherwise, I'll never realize my dream of playing with REM on their 2030 50th Anniversary tour.

2. Read more. So many books, so little time. I figure, at my current rate, I'll only be able to read about 1000 more books in my lifetime. I am becoming agitated by the thought that I only get to choose a thousand. I mean, which ones do I pick? If I step up the pace, I could as much as double that number.

3. Look into board certification. This would be a good career move, but I think I should probably wait a few more years to actually do it. Now is the time to start thinking about and looking into what I need to do to get certified.

4. Leave the house more often. Granted, I have been sick, but, I haven't been out of the house since Friday. I haven't even gotten out of my pajamas. Except for the hacking and the phlegm, it has been a great way to end winter break.

5. Not get so wrapped up in organized sports. Watching today's Ravens-Dolphins playoff game was excruciating. The end result makes it a good excruciating, but, if you could have seen me when Miami scored to cut the Ravens lead to 20-9, you'd have thought that the Dolphins had just taken the lead. It's kind of sad that my dog is afraid to sit on the sofa with me when I watch one of my teams play (i.e., Maryland, Mizzou, Ravens--not so much Nebraska...(yet?)). I jump up off the sofa, I yell, I swear. I'm not allowed to have objects in my hands while watching (I might throw them). Once, many years ago, I was watching a football game with a Nerf football in my hands, and during a particularly bad play, I threw the football on the ground. However, the football hit an ashtray on the way down, and broke in two, spilling a mess of ashes, butts, and ceramics at my feet. This did not make me feel any better. I act like a child. I can't help it. This suggestion is the least likely to be acted upon...especially with the Ravens-Titans playoff match up scheduled for Saturday!

Happy New Year!

Allow me to now wish one and all a belated Happy New Year. This is meant to balance out the early Happy New Year that was hinted at prior to the actual holiday. In my mind, this somehow balances out to a traditional and on-time greeting. Enjoy!

Monkey and I spent a low-key evening with the puppy dog, enjoying a tasty steak dinner, watching Anderson Cooper and Kathy Grifiin / Ryan Seacrest, bravely staying awake long enough to see the Central Standard New Year enter, and then heading off to bed. Reasons for this include a lack of any planning for the evening, a general lack of enthusiasm for the holiday, and a genuine East Coast head cold that we each received as a post-Christmas gift that we brought back with us.

The trip home was mostly good. It was great to see my wild men nephews (now five and three (and a half)), my bro and sister-in-law (a fun trip to Vaccaro's and Hampden after dinner at Tio Pepe's (sorry I was a jerk for those forty-five minutes or so...)), mom and dad. It was awesome to be treated to tenth row seats at the Ravens-Jaguars game Sunday night by Monkey's bro and sister-in-law! Good to see my in-laws and other family! And, in a drive-by, a great lunch with La Fashionista and P.

Beyond those highlights, I enjoyed putting together and playing Hungry Hungry Hippos with the kiddos, setting up for and taking the annual family photo by the tree, scrapple for breakfast, and Mom's cookies and pie. By the way, monthly beard check = getting kind of freaky long.

Some Post-game Thoughts

Final score: Steelers 23-Ravens 20 in overtime.

Penalties always hurt.

Some Halftime Thoughts

I don't usually blog much about sports directly. The occasional baseball post around playoff time (that one's coming soon, I reckon); the once-in-a-while comment on college football or basketball. Not much. But, since I am in the midst of watching the Ravens play the dreaded Steelers on Monday Night Football, I thought I would toss out a few observations here at halftime.

1. After ten years of rotating quarterbacks, it might just be that this team has found a suitable field leader. After two and a half games, it is far too early to tell if Flacco is an All-Pro calibre QB, but it doesn't take much to see that he is better than Kyle Boller, Stoney Case, Chris Redman, and even an aging (not in-his-prime) Steve McNair. A strong arm, and a (so far) lack of mistakes--Baltimore hasn't seen that since...well, maybe John Unitas (apologies to Bert Jones, of course).

2. Willis McGahee is not long for this team. Too many injuries. Is McLain a decent replacement? So far.

3. The defense is playing better than I may have seen since 2006. Even with a decimated secondary, they still look good. Of course, Big Ben hasn't had time to test the D backs much...

The second half is under way. Back to the game!

Waiting for Herb

Actually, Herb has nothing to do with this post. I don't know a Herb (I know OF a Herb, but we ain't so tight any more). I just like this Pogues album title. Not the best album--I mean, as with my early comment about REM post-Bill Berry, how can this REALLY be a Pogues album without Shane McGowan? Yes, that is the correct answer: it can't, but, nevertheless a good title.

The Okkervil River show was excellent. They were better than I have ever seen them. The show started out with some seriously bad sound problems, but once they were fixed, the show just flowed along (on the river of golden dreams?). It didn't appear as if the band members were ever happy with the mix in their monitors, but the sound out to the PA was eventually balanced. Will was all over the stage and really playing with the crowd. The mix of old and new material was good. The venue was large enough that we never felt sardine-packed, but intimate enough that one is never too far away from things. Monkey and I planted ourselves about ten feet from the stage, so we never were too far awy (except when Monkey went to sit at the bar near the end of the show). We managed to keep the giants from standing in front of us, as they always seem to do, so that was good. Damien Jurado was okay, but he really didn't seem very into it. I am not very familiar with his stuff. I liked all but one of his songs, but he really just didn't do much for me. Overall, Monkey and I rated this show highly.

The USC-Nebraska football game on the other hand, we rated not so highly. It was a rout, after the first five minutes of the second quarter. Final score: 49-31. The Huskers tacked on two TDs during garbage time. USC is really good. Nebraska is not as bad as they appeared (I don't think). But, for most of this game, it looked like men against boys out there. Obviously, I have not seen LSU or Oklahoma live, but right now, I am putting my money on another USC national title run. They are REALLY fast on both sides of the ball.

A little basketball playing today, a little football watching (Ravens up on the Jets, last I checked). A good weekend overall.

PS--A shout out to the Rev. Wayne Coomers, whose old blog, Rock Therapy, is now being updated. Check it out!

Thaw Comes to Ice Planet Hoth

Well, reader, the temperatures have soared near forty here today, melting a good deal of the dingy ice that covers Ice Planet Hoth. However, the Treacherous Puppy Run of Death has clung tenaciously to the earth, like a starving hagfish on a dying grouper. It shan't last long, this thaw, as temps are forecast to plunge back into the twenties tomorrow and for the foreseeable future. Such is February, I suppose.

Speaking of February, my favorite minor holiday passed on Friday with nary a whimper. We hardly even marked the day here. I don't even know if the damned whistle pig saw its shadow. We haven't seen our whistle pig for months, so, who knows when this winter will end. At this rate, I am guessing somewhere between before the next presidential election and never (probably closer to never).

On the sporting front, a word about this past Super Bowl. As a favorite son of the Queen City of the Patapsco River Drainage Basin over the age of thirty, I am required by law to loathe the team from Indianapolis that is falsely named the "Colts." This is a little known codicil in the Baltimore City charter that is punishable by being either excommunicated from the church or disowned by one's family. Since I am not a member of any church that has an actaul excommunication procedure, I can only be punished by being disowned by my family.

You see, due to the dastardly deeds of the Baltimore Colts' late owner Robert Irsay, who stole the team away from its working-class city in the dead of a snowy winter night because the town wouldn't spring for a new stadium, my hometown became a football wasteland, depressed, unsure of itself, angry, drug-infested, and populated with a glassy-eyed citizenry that would while away Autumn Sundays at Enrico's Bar or the Dew Drop Inn, staring at dreaded Redskins games and seething at the injustice of it all. Until that happy day when the dastardly deeds of former Cleveland Browns' owner Art Modell, who stole his team away from its working-class city in full view of everybody because the town wouldn't spring for a new stadium, leaving Cleveland a football wasteland, depressed, unsure of itself, angry, drug-infested, and populated with a glassy-eyed citizenry that would while away Autumn Sundays at local watering holes, staring at dreaded Bengals games and seething at the injustice of it all, gave Baltimore a new football team.

All in The Town That Lincoln Snuck Through were certain that we could relive the glory days of Lenny Moore and Johnny Unitas (and Art Schlister and Mike Pagels). Yet, try as Mob City's fathers and mothers might, the NFL would not let Baltimore have the "Colts" name back. They did let Cleveland keep the "Browns" name, which is fine for them. Except that many in Charm City cried foul. They wanted it to be like it used to be, when families came together to drink large amounts of whiskey and peppermint schnapps and get into fistfights with the dickheads from Pittsburgh and throw up at Sunday dinner. But, things change. We in The City That Reads, came to grips with this. However, we found out that, truly, the more things change, the more they stay the same. I'm sure they discovered the same in Cleveland. So, now, both cities are depressed, unsure of themselves, angry, drug-infested, and populated with a glassy-eyed citizenry that while away Autumn Sundays at local watering holes watching their hometown teams, and seething at the injustice of the high ticket prices that pay for the shiny new stadiums the teams play in that preclude anyone making less than 300 thousand dollars a year from actually attending a game.

But I digress.

So, I am not supposed to root for the team that Payton Manning plays for, but, I did. And I am happy that they won. I am happy for Payton, a man who respects the history of the game (and is a fine quarterback, six-five, with a rocket, laser arm...usually). I am happy for Tony Dungy, a true class act in every way. Unlike that Belichick doofus in New England...what a tool. So, there. It's out. I just hope my family will still talk to me.

Mom, Dad, Brother-man: If it's any consolation, I still hope Bob Irsay is skewered on a stick somewhere in the bowels of hell. Love ya!

Greetings from Ice Planet Hoth

We are iced in, over here, people. Friday afternoon and night left us a couple of inches of sleet, and last night left us some freezing rain. The main roads may not be too bad, but, this morning, the dog won't go outside after skittering across the front yard, earlier, and I was left standing on the front porch, looking down the slight hill that is our driveway, wondering how I would get the newspaper, not twenty feet away. More is expected today, with some snow to top it off. It's a good thing that exams ended Thursday and there's no school until Tuesday.

In other news--other awful, horrible, no-good, very bad news--the Ravens held the Colts--the Payton Manning, Marvin Harrison, Reggie Wayne Colts--to NO touchdowns...and LOST. It was the worst display of offensive incompetence I have seen in a playoff game since...LAST WEEK, when the same Colts made the Chiefs look like, well, the Ravens (of old). I was speechless. It took all I had to even read the ESPN recap of the game. I'll get over it.

Other than that...exams, as I said, are over...a new semester begins on Tuesday (and we all know why Tuesday is special)...no word on the job front...Monkey came home with a brochure for a house in Lincoln, priced at more than $280K; it's a nice looking house in the pictures, but it is too much house and too much money for us (Monkey wasn't really offering this as a possibilty, she just wanted me to see it 'cause she thought we'd both like it--damn straight I'd like it!)...that is all.

Leave a Peppermint Stick for Old Saint Nick Hanging on the Christmas Tree

Just returned home from the Motherland yesterday. The flight was uneventful; the most memorable moment being getting stopped at security with ten pounds of frozen porterhouse steaks. The woman at the X-ray machine looked at me real funny.

"What you got in this bag?"

"Steaks."

She looked at me real funny again and ran the bag back through the machine. Which is good, because now I know my steaks have been doubly irradiated and are completely bacteria-free! Thank you Transportation Safety Administration.

The Monkey and I stopped at Trader Joe's in St. Louie on the way back, to pick up some cheap wine and wasabi rice crackers. Makes a great meal and feeds six, for those of you on a budget.

Upon returning to the homestead, we unpacked our Christmas booty (thanks, everybody), put our frozen foods in the freezer (they stayed well-frozen), and went to get our puppy back from Uncle Joe and Aunt James.

When we arrived, they were in full play mode (the dogs, not the people), wrestling with each other and chasing each other around the floor (obviously the previous photo was taken prior to our arrival). James and Joe still seem pleased to have Ripken, which is good. They were sad to see him go.

Ripken also spent Christmas eve and day at Uncle Joe's parents' house, where, we were told, he promptly peed on the Christmas tree! I don't think he'll be going back there any time soon.

Thanking our dog-watching friends, we went back home, where Ripken passed out on his bed. Monkey and I watched the end of the Insight Bowl (ASU 45-Rutgers 40), and hit the hay. I slept and slept and slept, dreaming of the week we had just had.

It was great to visit with those whom we got to see. We apologize to those we missed.

It was amazing and wonderful to meet and greet the new family members and to see the progress of the young and old. I especially enjoyed spending time with my nephews, Thing Two and Thing One (they can do anything, anything, anything under the sun), as well as my wife's gaggle of monkey-like second cousins (actual wall-climbing was witnessed).

It was great to enjoy the generosity of a sister and brother-in-law, who gave us their club level tickets to the Ravens' game on Christmas night. That was a wickedly cool experience. And the Ravens actually resembled an NFL team again this week!

Christmas, in practice, is the biggest headache of the year, by far. It is the time of year when planning and meeting people (two things I really don't dig on) occur with the most frequency and intensity. However, it is also one of the few times Monkey and I get back to see everybody back home, and that's the best thing about it.

I leave you with a few shots (courtesy of Unle Joe, dog photographer/bass player) of Ripken and London's canine Christmas. Notice how serene they are.

New Arrivals, Severed Tendons

While this news is not hot off the presses, it is recent enough and large enough to be posted here. Late last week, Mrs. Arthur Bryant gave birth to an early Christmas present. Long, wrinkly, and healthy, Harrison David Sandstedt, was born on December 16. Last night, Monkey and I, along with Mr. and Mrs. Fishing Buddy, visited the Bryants, bringing steaks, salad, and some damn tasty chocolate dessert thingy.

Mr. Fishing Buddy appeared with his right hand in a bizzarre Freddy Krueger-type contraption, owing to the fact that he had severed a tendon on his hand while sharpening knives. Take this as a warning: sharp knives are dangerous (of course, dull knives are MORE dangerous, but anyway...). We had a great meal, some sparkling conversation, held the small sleeping infant (nerve-wracking, for me--support the head!) and watched a bit of the Ravens other-wordly effort against the Packers. (Boy, were my dad and I way wrong.)

Congrats to the Bryants, welcome to earth to Harrison, and let's hope Fishing Buddy's hand heals before the ice thaws.

Mexican Birthdays and Frigid Winds

Last weekend, which I have neglected to talk to you about, was quite a busy one. Monkey was in NYC, Uncle Joe turned 30, Favorite Berry had a Christmas party, and the Outlaw Birders (whom we've heard tell of) violated all manner of civic ordinance to discover the Tiny Jesus Calvary Fields of Central Standard. Whew!

Monkey's trip began in the aftermath of a Central Standard snow, and, unfortunately, she was flying right back into it as it visited upon the denizens of Gotham. She was delayed at the KC airport for about eight hours. For those of you who do not know, KCI is nowhere to spend an hour, let alone eight. I can only imagine the boredom she endured. But, she eventually made it safely to her destination (having lost a whole day of museum-hopping).

In the meantime, Friday evening brought many of the regular cast of Central Standard characters to La Tolteca for quesadillas, burritos, cerveza and margaritas. A fine time was had by all. Enjoyed spending time at dinner with several new and old folks, including Coach and Mrs. B, the Reverend and Mrs. Wayne Coomers, and Boring Election (formerly known as The Kopster). I was relieved to be told at dinner that a Big and Rich/Gretchen Wilson concert was going on at the nearby Arena. I thought that the girls on the short bus in front of me, swilling beer and throwing cigarette butts out the window, were members of a college volleyball team! The highlights of the evening: Uncle Joe in a 400-pound embroidered sombrero as he was serenaded by the wait staff (accompanied by a random little girl); the waiter's acoustic guitar and vocals on "Hang on Sloopy," as we exited into the freezing night; and naked baby pictures of Uncle Joe at the 'rents where we retired for lip-smacking sheet cake and Keystone Light. A special thank you to the Uncle Joe clan for ponying up for dinner and for the cake.

As it turned out, no one made it to the Black Neil Diamond show. Have I mentioned that before?

The next evening found me in some apartment complex with a crew of mostly random folks, enjoying the hospitality of Favorite Berry and the company of Suh-Weet (formerly known as Robmeister) and Queen of Spades (formerly known as K-Dogg). The food was great, the entertainment was quality, and the conversation was (as promised) stimulating. And I walked away with the muzak version of several Celine Dion favorites on CD, so, now I have a new coaster.

Developments this week have included a new computer (at which I am happily working), a film to discuss, a drunken game night, and a bone-chilling birding trip. Follow along.

The new computer arrived on Tuesday and was operational (after file transfers and such) by Friday. I haven't loaded the software for the camera yet, so I apologize for the lack of photos (I have taken a couple of good ones). I will include them soon. It is definitely an upgrade over the old behemoth. This one is streamlined in look and way faster in operation. Very diggable technological development.

Saw Walk the Line on Friday. It was excellent. Reese Witherspoon and Joaquin Phoenix gave beautiful and real performances, and (as Monkey keeps marvelling at) they do their own singing. I don't know much about Johnny Cash, so I don't know how true the film's story is, but that has little bearing on the fact that this is a high-quality film. The ending is a bit too "upbeat" for me, but other than that, it's all good.

Last night's drunken game night at Suh-Weet and Queen of Spade's led to a slow-moving morning birding trip with the (newly tattooed) Osculator. We headed to a nearby lake, looking for ducks and geese. It was snowing at 7 am, and it kept snowing all morning. There was little accumulation, but the wind accompanying the snow was strong and from-the-north cold. We spent about a half an hour (nearly losing our noses in the process) scoping the birds in the distant open water, and only found a few canada geese, some mallards, and a couple of gulls. As we headed back into town we did spot and stop to scope out a barred owl. We watched it for a few minutes, then it dropped from its branch to pounce on a small mammal in the tall grass. It was pretty exciting!

At another stop on our morning freeze, we watched a short eared owl being chased by some smaller birds. Two owls in one day is a pretty good birding day. All in all, our stiff joints and frozen cheeks were worth the two owls.

Monkey and I spent the rest of the day braving the crowds, doing some Christmas shopping. I can not believe how soon the holiday is coming up! A week? No way.

My dad and I speculate that Brett Favre will throw for 300 yards and three touchdowns and the Green Bay running back, Sam Gado, will run for 200 yards and two scores, when they face the Ravens tomorrow night. We also hope that we are wrong. Go Ravens!

Finished a few books lately. I'll tell you about those, later.

In France, It's the First Day of the Week

"Monday, Monday
Can't trust that day."
--The Mamas and The Papas

It is full-on Fall here in Central Standard Land. Brisk walkings of the dog have occurred at Stephens Lake the past two days. The sky is that cloudy gray that true Fall always is. The air is brisk, and the oak leaves skitter across the paths on the eddying breeze. Great walking weather.

Saturday morning, as I was heading out to meet the Auduboners, I looked to the east as I travelled down Old Highway 63 and saw the sun rising over the misty Stephens Lake. It was a beautiful phot op, but I didn't have my camera. I made a mental note to come back on Sunday to snap a shot for the blog, but, as most of you may know, my mental notepad is like an Etch-a-sketch--if I shake enough, it erases itself. I must have shaken a great deal on Saturday, because I forgot to go up there yesterday. I will try to remember in the future. It really was a scene worth sharing.

After school today, we had a monthly faculty meeting. It was long, pointless and dreadful. Grades were due today, remember? Well, Fearless Leader didn't think it was too much to have a meeting immediately after we spent the day wrestling with our "new" (read "broken") grading program. How hard would it have been to have the meeting on Tuesday? But, no. We were all pretty brain dead. So brain dead, in fact, that we couldn't even muster the juice to rip on the meeting to each other. How terribly awful. To top it off, Fearless Leader wasn't even at the meeting. Boo! At 4:30, they mercifully let us go. I was supposed to play b-ball tonight, but I was pretty downtrodden. I stayed home.

After an hour, I was feeling a bit better, so I took the dog for a walk. Did I mention how nice that was?

I must say, one bright spot among many about being here in the Central Zone is that I don't often get the opportunity to watch my old home teams play ball. After suffering through the daily newspaper stories on the O's, I was glad not to have to be tempted with watching them implode this season. I am positively intrigued by the hiring of Leo Mazzone as the new pitching coach, but coaches don't play, and Angelos is STILL the owner. Most distressful (or pleasant, in that I don't have to watch it) is the miserable performance of the Ravens. God, remember the good old days of Vinny Testeverde?

It dawned on me yesterday, as I saw the score flash on the screen: Chi 10, Bal 6, that Baltimore's two Super Bowl wins came with scrub QBs: Earl Morrall and Trent Dilfer. Odd, isn't it? Johnny U never won one. He won NFL Championships, so he gets a special award for that, but no Super Bowls. Bert Jones? None. Art Schleister? Mike Pagels? Stoney Case? Chris Redmond? Well, never mind.

It's hard to be living in The Land of Pleasant Living this Monday, I'm sure.