Perihelion Day—that monumental day each year when the orbit of the Earth around the Sun takes us a few steps closer to that big glorious ball than any other day—came off without a hitch.
Last night there was a much-ballyhooed "Evolution/Creation" debate between Bill Nye and Ken Ham. People were posting links on Facebook and talking some good Christian vs. Atheist smack. I didn't watch it; I was too busy being annoyed.
I confess it's not working. I must have woken up New Year's Day on the wrong side of that Sleep Number bed I was in, because I've been feeling grumpy since this new venture started. My son Thomas calls it the "Grumpy Hat."
I grew up in the 70s, and more than anything else--from the time I was a little boy--I loved baseball, and particularly, the Pittsburgh Pirates. My first game ever, at the age of 6, was Game 5 of the 1971 World Series.
We were playing in front of no one, moving like three-legged deer, hitting the ball with the authority and confidence of inebriated monkeys. It's a good thing no one was watching. Old man tennis may be a spectacle too, but it's not a spectator sport.
As a lifelong, passionate Pittsburgh Steelers' fan, tomorrow's Super Bowl presents a terrible dilemma. Do I root for the hated Ravens to win and celebrate Ray Lewis' retirement party on the 50-yard line of the Superdome in front of millions?
