For a yankees player, Yogi Berra had it right a lot.
It’s getting uncrowded around here at Coach Daddy. I had a pretty good run in May, right around the BlogHer Voice of the Year announcement. I seemed to find a new normal after that, and had been on the rise. That rise appears to have plateaued.
Even New Orleans pipes down after Mardi Gras.
This is all fine for me. It means I have more time to get to more blogs.
Everyone who visits my blog? I will get to theirs. Always. With fewer stops to make, it’s like someone took the outskirts of my paper route. Maybe now I can visit that core of my paper route more often, toss more papers on the step.
When you slow down, you get crazy opportunities.
Like this one, for the N.C. Blogging Network.
Who knew an innocuous tweet could become a T-shirt?
Who knew an innocuous tweet could become a T-shirt?
This puppy looks awesome, and will be available here soon. Just in time for Hanukkah and stuff.
1. Can you see Pluto?
Pluto’s about as elusive as your big sister in a dress.
There are clearer photos of Sasquatch. Pluto is smaller in diameter than the drive from Charlotte to Denver. And it orbits the sun about 3.6 million miles away. That’s like, further than the raiders are from the playoffs. Science even stripped Pluto of planet status for a few years.
The dark little guy is back among the planets today.
It’s about as easy to spot, even with a telescope, as a single Froot Loop in a mountain of JuJu beans from 37 miles away, with dirty glasses. Next summer, that’ll all change. NASA’s New Horizons probe will make a pass of Pluto, giving us a rare close up.
Feels like picture day in kindergarten for me.
2. What’s a wallflower?
It’s a member of the cabbage family with fragrant multi-colored flowers. It’s also that introvert with no one to dance with. In its plural form, it’s an L.A. rock band fronted by Bob Dylan’s kid.
I prefer to think of the wallflower as the brooding, misunderstood, quiet, brilliant new girl in class in a great 80s movie.
Only it’s not Ally Sheedy, but, I don’t know … like, Sarah Drew? Or Rosamund Pike or maybe Emma Stone or Bianca Kajlich? Jenna Fischer or Lizzie O’Leary or Darley Newman or Jan from the Toyota commercials or Vanessa Bloome from Bee Movie or …
3. How much is a safety worth?
Two points. Two painful, long-lasting points.
It happens when a team gets tackled in its end zone, or fumbles a ball out of the end zone. When it’s the first score of a game, like that dad-burn Super Bowl, you get a score of 2-0. Then some wiseass announcer will say, “looks more like a baseball score, doesn’t it Hank?”
The early safety in Denver’s most recent Super Bowl agony wasn’t my most painful. That came in fourth grade, during that infamous season playing for the Jackson Jayhawks. I was the best player on the team, which should tell you all you need to know about the Jackson Jayhawks.
The Jayhawks, in white uniforms and red numerals on their pathetic chests, never scored. No touchdowns. No field goals. Trample-free grass in the end zone every single time. We were environmentally friendly in our suckiness.
We often marched down the field – backward. We’d punt from our own end zone. One particularly low day, we held the ball inside our 5 yard line. Quarterback Chad Pringle – who wore a hoodie under his jersey and cried a lot – handed the ball to me on the 1.
I got hit, then swarmed, then dropped for a safety. 2-0, not Jayhawks.
Later in the same game, who got the call deep in Jayhawks territory again? Yep. This time, I tried like hell to break the plane of the goal line. MY goal line. And alas, again I was dropped. This could become a game plan.
Pin ‘em deep and smash their running back in the end zone. All.day.
For the only time in my cruddy football career – I cried in my helmet. It was that kind of cry you don’t even try to hide because you’re mad as a T-rex at an apple-picking festival. But see? I turned out all right.
And as I let the tears flow it struck me how stupid the name ‘safety’ was for such a play.
4. Does figure skating have to be a boy and a girl?
American states battle may for or against same-sex marriage within their borders. But figure skating remains a state in which the far right is the last word.
Rule 302 of the International Skating Union states “the composition of a pair must be one Lady and one Man.” Same for ice dancing. I’m pretty sure there’s something in the Old Testament that says that. The land of Aram was never a powerhouse of Olympic skating.
Judges love the ice-melting romantic maneuvers of the man/woman pair. The rule book further distinguishes their roles. Men cannot go sleeveless, women must wear skirts, and not one that portrays excessive nudity.
(It’s hard to argue any perceived nudity on Katarina Witt.)
So we can forget about a repeat any time soon of that scene in Blades of Glory.
5. Are collies and border collies the same dogs?
They’re different dog breeds. It’s like the St. Louis football and baseball Cardinals. Kind of.
They’re both herding dogs that hail from England and Scotland. Sometimes they’re even lumped in with Shetland Sheepdogs. That’s like the St. Louis baseball and football Cardinals and also the University of Louisville. Kind of. They’re all regarded as calm, well-mannered pups who love to herd.
Unless Grace pets them.
Those days end up in ERs with stitches to the face. And a story, at least. Grace will always have the story of the day the border collie tried to herd her face. I asked her if she saw inside his mouth before he chomped, but she was non-committal.
She could have borrowed from Yogi for that one.