6:30 am, 59 degreees Fahrenheit on the way to 84. Sun rose at 5:30 today. (And for the record: I awoke at 4:55 but didn’t summon the will to roll out and hit the floor, after last night’s late and ultimately-lamented# rec league doubleheader in East Cheatham county.)
*Starting today, a daily dateline to pull me more insistently to the keyboard. Noting the time and temp first thing each morning with the Living Earth app is an old habit of mine, but posting it here is new.
I’ve also been in the habit lately of consulting Writer’s Almanac first thing. That’s a bit of a distraction, but a worthy one. I’ll continue it here, by noting a historic/literary birthday and occasionally musing on its subject and/or the poem of the day. So, today the self-appointed sexpert Dr. Ruth is even older, and it’s the 19th amendment’s 95th anniversary. “You’ve come a long way, baby.” (Did Don Draper write that one too?) In today’s poem Charles Bukowski says he knows what Walt Whitman wanted when he sang the body electric, “to be completely alive every moment in spite of the inevitable.”
The bad early-morning habits I’m giving up, starting today, are Twitter and Zite. It’s not that I find them a total waste of time, I often find relevant provocation there. Just enough wheat amidst the chaff to make breaking up hard to do. But they’ll keep. Anyway, it’s not a break-up. Not even a trial separation. Just a re-prioritizing.
Now then. I’ve spent half an hour clearing my throat here. The deck is clear, the caffeine is working, I’m ready to write something. “Even if it’s wrong,” as my old pal DH of WCU likes to say.
What shall I write?
Something about the peripatetic life, for sure. SC, my volunteer RA, has been sending me stuff to write about. Time to jump on it.
But first, for that infernal “record” I feel compelled to keep: what was #lamentable about last night’s doubleheader with the “Mystics” near Joelton? Not Younger Daughter’s performance, she sparkled per usual with several ringing line drives, an inside-the-park homer, and a solid pitching performance except for those walks that knotted the score in Game #2. It was the other coach’s decision to file a protest with the ump at a pivotal moment when our team had loaded the bases and threatened to take the lead, in the last inning. It worked, the evening ended abruptly and outrageously in a tie. As I say, lamentable.
Also for the record: finally visited the new Tailgate Brewery and Taproom (around the corner from McKay’s used book & record emporium, in the converted VFW barn), anniversary gift-card and empty growlers in tow. Marvelous! The quality of life in my neighborhood is exponentially improved by Tailgate’s presence. Who’d have guessed that Peanut Butter Milk Stout and Grapefruit IPA, so ill-named, could be so good?
Okay, enough digressive wool-gathering. Another new habit, soon to commence: regular and relevant working posts to my day blog. “Relevant”? What isn’t?
That’s a rhetorical question but it deserves a reply. Time to walk and think about how best to answer it.
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