I usually don’t care much about the weather, not being too outdoorsy. But I’ve got to say, I’d really like to see a few 70-degree-plus days strung together. I’m not even asking for full-fledged spring or summer weather. Just a week or so.
Ponderings
She’s just a girl
I don’t understand what Vijay Singh and other men golfers are so concerned about.
Singh, who has since eaten crow a bit, said he hoped teen golfer girl sensation Annika Sorenstam missed the cut at the Colonial Invitation next week.
“She doesn’t belong out there,” he said. “What is she going to prove by playing? It’s ridiculous. She’s the best woman golfer in the world, and I want to emphasize ‘woman.’ We have our tour for men, and they have their tour. She’s taking a spot from someone in the field.”
First, as has been noted repeatedly, the PGA is gender neutral. It is not making an exception to let Sorenstam play. She’ll be hitting from the same tees, using the same clubs, playing the same game. The only equipment she’ll have that the men don’t is what she was born with.
So what’s the problem? That she’ll take a “man’s” spot? But the spots don’t belong to men or to women, but to the best players. Sorenstam is the best woman golfer in the world. Now she wants to see if she’s one of the best golfers, period.
I guess in Singh’s mind, golf balls aren’t the only balls that matter when it comes to competing on the links.
UPDATE: I was not aware that Sorenstam did not have to qualify for the tournament like the rest of the players. That changes things a little bit. Still, once on the links she’ll be playing by the same rules as everyone else.
I do think she should have to qualify like any other player, though.
A happy birthday
I was treated to some very nice gifts by the usual suspects and a very pleasant dinner with Karen and my parents at L Woods Pine Lodge, where the birthday boy ordered the most expensive steak on the menu.
Who could (reasonably) ask for anything more?
Happy birthday, Hootie!
Apparently, Darius Rucker, lead singer of Hootie and the Blowfish is also celebrating his birthday today. At least I’d assume he’s celebrating it. Maybe he’s just observing it. How do we really know?
He’s 37. I’m 26. It’s also Dennis Rodman’s birthday. He’s 42.
People tell me it’s a crime
It’s foggy in Chicago tonight. It’s that thick kind of fog that makes the street lights radiate and buzz about. There’s a chill in the air too, tonight.
I walked the dog and smoked a cheap cigar, and I couldn’t tell where the smoke ended and where the fog began. Sport tucked his nose between spots of the wet grass, tracking the hidden scent.
I’m happily, finally tired. I returned home with hands and ears and face cold and wet to the touch. I kissed my wife. And it was good.
Now it’s raining. And the lighting is striking. Good night; good, good night.
It’s somebody’s birthday, I wonder who
Well, not quite yet. But it’s coming on fast, people, and if you love me you’ll realize my affection will be reciprocated upon the receipt of material goods.
Don’t know what to buy me for my birthday? I’ve made a handy list for you.
What have you done for me lately?
I’m not sure why, but I haven’t been in the mood to blog lately. I’m not insanely busy right now, and there’s plenty to talk about: the NBA playoffs, certain idiotic statements by certain Republican senators, a little post-war nonsense, and more.
But there’s an itch that I usually get that makes me think, “Oh! I should blog about that.” And the itch doesn’t go away until I do.
No itch lately, though.
Sick and tired
That’s me. After four days covering one of the biggest insurance conferences in the world and at least three days battling a cold.
That’s why the light posting. More tomorrow if I’m feeling better, though.
DST – Government at its worst
OK, so the Nazi regime was probably government at its worst. But daylight saving time ranks somewhere up there.
That’s right, daylight saving time, not daylight savings time. This link claims to explain why.
But, you know, daylight saving time really is just a bunch of politicians telling you when to get up and when to go to bed. As Roberston Davies so eloquently put it:
I don’t really care how time is reckoned so long as there is some agreement about it, but I object to being told that I am saving daylight when my reason tells me that I am doing nothing of the kind. I even object to the implication that I am wasting something valuable if I stay in bed after the sun has risen.
As an admirer of moonlight I resent the bossy insistence of those who want to reduce my time for enjoying it. At the back of the Daylight Saving scheme I detect the bony, blue-fingered hand of Puritanism, eager to push people into bed earlier, and get them up earlier, to make them healthy, wealthy and wise in spite of themselves.
Right on.
16 planes and whadd’ya get
They’re still stuck there, thanks to the weather this time.
Not the right way, the Midway
I sure hope those stock options were a good idea.
And a good time was had by all … two
So for Karen‘s birthday last night we dined at Geja’s and then stayed at the Hotel Monaco downtown near the Chicago River.
Geja’s is a fondue place and prides itself on “romantic fondue dining.” And, true, they do have the flamenco guitarist plinking away in the corner and the lighting is “romantic.” As for the food, I believe it’s generally accepted that melted food is more romantic.
But when the dining experience is over, how is the lingering, overpowering stench of grease supposed to help get us in the mood? Does this turn people on?
Happy birthday, Karen!
The wife is celebrating her 30th birthday today. She was delighted with her presents and we’ve got an adventure to go on tonight.
The only sad thing about Karen’s birthdays is they mean that there’s another year with her that I’ll never get back — but I guess that’s what memories are for.
kboreilly.com 
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