Odd Ends

Marcia and I golfed nine holes on an executive course on Sunday, the first time I’ve actually swung golfclubs outside of a driving range or a miniature golf course in a long, long time.

I didn’t do well, exactly, but I didn’t embarrass myself, either. Much. It’s kind of convenient sometimes to be a sort of generally efficient jock type, since I can generally hold my own in most common sports, even after long layoffs. We’re doing it again this weekend, before heading down to the North Fork of Long Island for a weekend of vineyard visits and good food and checking out some colleges on Katelin’s behalf, since she’s on her “Spring Term” over the weekend (a week-long end-of-school-year experiential trip with classmates).

Marcia and I celebrated my birthday on Tuesday with dinner for two at Vin Santo, an absolutely sublime tapas and wine bar that has no business being located in a strip mall, a mere half-dozen storefronts away from the odious Sam’s Club. I had a scrumptious Corn and Lobster Risotto and roasted merguez sausage over mashed potatoes with a garlic sauce, capped with valrhona chocolate, olive oil and sea salt on toasted bread crisps. Superb, all round.

On the music front, this week’s recommended album would be Tromatic Reflexxions by Von Sudenfed, a side project of the Fall’s Mark E. Smith and Mouse on Mars. Chunky electronica with Smith’s patented trademark nonsequiteurs and mutterings atop them. I still haven’t gotten my CD player fixed in my car, so am still enjoying rediscovering some great lost titles, most especially Life Begins at 40 Million by the Bogmen, Hunter’s Moon by Of Cabbages and Kings, and Nail by Scraping Foetus Off the Wheel. All worth buying if you ever see them in a cutout bin, which is likely.

And sports? Well . . . after having won eight of ten games, the beloved Royals were actually not the worst team in the American League as of yesterday, inching ahead of Tampa Bay and Texas. I don’t know how to act, other than to express utter confidence that this frightening state of affairs shouldn’t last for very long. In yachting news, Italian and New Zealand syndicates are prepared to slug it out in the Louis Vuitton Cup to see who gets to challenge reigning champs, Switzerland, for the America’s Cup. See the link to the right for full coverage of this quite fascinating sport. I lived in Newport, Rhode Island in 1980 during a Cup summer when (a) it was still held off the coast of Rhode Island, and (b) we were still winning it. While it’s unpatriotic of me to say so, I guess, I’m kinda glad to see the Larry Ellison/Oracle-backed American entry sent home early. I mean, how delicious is to have the world championship in any sporting event contested between New Zealand and Switzerland? (Assuming the Kiwis stomp the Italians, which I expect them to).

More news at 11.

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