There's No Such Thing As Clowns

The last two weeks have been pretty swell, all told. (Little illnesses aside.) Two weeks ago, Erica came into town for a few days, which is always fun. We wound up bowling with co-workers on Friday night. I didn’t bowl this time, after I humiliated myself the last time. Erica did, and she repped the family quite well. MC and JS (my favoritest co-worker and her lady) bowled out of their minds, so my vicarious bowling needs were well met. Plus, another co-worker did a split after one of her bowling taunts. Easy highlight of the night.

The rest of that weekend was spent shopping, sleeping (boy, lots of sleep), keeping warm, and talking trash over games of Mario Party. I took that Monday off so I could spend more time with her before she had to catch the late afternoon train back home. With any luck, I won’t have to be writing phrases like “train back home” for much longer. Not that anything is imminent; just saying.

This past weekend was another road trip with the Drizzle to check out some land in Northern Alabama (aka Pennsylvania). This time, the land was in Gettysburg, and was actually a nice piece of property, even if you can’t set up a canoe business. After a thorough examination of the land—well, as thorough as you can be without leaving the car—we hit the Gettysburg Appalachian Brewing Company for a beer and a couple of hours of shooting pool and chit-chat. For the record, I lost the best of five series, 3-2, because the Drizzle is much more adept at the “let the other guy scratch on the eight ball” strategy than I. We went from there to the Gettysburg G-Man, after discovering that Hoss’s was too crowded for dinner. There we ate and drank a bit more, while working the phones trying to get local folks to join us. Sadly, there were no takers. Lazy savages. Unfortunately, our evening was cut short (due to the aforementioned illness) and we made our way back to D.C. after settling up here.

Sunday, of course, was the Super Bowl.

As gleeful as I was with the outcome, it has been tempered somewhat by something approximating pity for the Bears. Sure seemed like 52 men showed up to play that game. Unfortunately, the very key 53rd man turned into the pumpkin most people knew he was. I think Neil O’Donnell owes Turnoversaurus Rex a nice dinner, since he’s no longer the biggest goat in Super Bowl history. (You know, Troy Smith would look pretty good in a Bears uniform.)

But hey, at least they got there. There are thirty other teams who cannot say that. And many of them (including my beloved Dolphins) haven’t even sniffed the playoffs for years now. So the Bears got that going for them, which is nice.

And now, a nation turns its eyes to college basketball and the coming March Madness. Feel it! The Drizzle and I will be making the trip for the opening round games again. This year’s destination: New Orleans!