Happy Hallowe'en, from the SPQR.

"Garish Weekly", I've found your next cover girl

I ran three miles in the park today, then had to walk the last mile back because my shoulder became inexplicably but insistently sore.

During my walk I passed a garden tucked beneath a curve in the road; there, a couple was getting married in front of maybe nine people. The groom wore a top hat with his tuxedo, and the bride paired a white veil with a gown that can only happen when you call a bridal shop and say, "I want the Kentucky Wildcat." UK blue from neck to shoe. Oy.

This week in outings

After the WNBA's Sheryl Swoopes, today it was George Takei -- Sulu on "Star Trek" -- who announced he's gay. So now that jocks and nerds are up in arms, are wonks next? A Cheney-Rumsfeld commitment ceremony is long overdue.

Welcome Washingtonians!

Hello to the 7 people who saw an excerpt of my Miers/Dratch post in Friday's Washington Post Express and decided to type in the addy. Sucks about the Nats, sorry.

My little crony

Today, Bush "reluctantly accepted" Harriet Miers' withdrawal of her own nomination for the Supreme Court. I don't, even reluctantly, accept the notion that it was her decision or her idea, or that it was Bush's. This was a decision made by the most prominent handful of Republican senators, who no longer have any use for Bush's coattails and certainly have no use for his handpicked judicial neophyte. These senators all want to run for president, and each is trying to shape this nomination in the hope it will later be seen as the first victory for his fledgling campaign.

All that aside, it's good for everyone that this Miers won't be a Supreme Court justice, except for SNL dinosaur Rachel Dratch, who loses one of the only impressions she can do. Somebody please make Rachel the snarky best friend of a sitcom main character so she can get off SNL.

MORON

Thrice in the last month, the chemistry teacher at the school downstairs has conducted an experiment that went awry and forced the evacuation of the building. The last one was five minutes ago, and I'm ready to conduct an experiment involving a beaker of hydrochloric acid and the base of his spine.

Mmmm... maybe I'll have another peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Just bought some squeezable jelly. Knife-free is the life for me!

My cover is blown

Nearly forgot; I took my first trip back to the Maryland campus in half a year, and my name has been carved on the fountain in the middle of McKeldin Mall. All the members of the leadership "fraternity" Omicron Delta Kappa have their names put there eventually, and aside from three years' worth of junk mail it is the only tangible result of my having applied for membership. But since tangible results are scarce for me these days, I'll take it.

Autumn arrives

When I'm feeling my least clever, when I'm feeling the least like writing, feeling like the only reason I'm blogging is to let people know I'm not dead, I can always rely on alliterative post titles to provide some order in my life.

I spent most of today reading The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time, a brisk canine murder mystery narrated by an autistic British teenager. It struck a chord in me, because when the narrator's world seemed to spin out of control, his overpowering instinct was to withdraw, to hide somewhere and be silent, alone with his frighteningly sharp mathematical mind. Aside from the frighteningly sharp mathematical mind, I understand how he feels.

Plainly put, I'm having a real suck of a day. Plus, the cold weather has come on in no time at all, and I know it will be months and months and months until I feel 100% comfortable running outside.

Stomp

I saw Stomp at a theatre a block away. It was very cool, the perfect stage show for short attention spans. Plus, it was all in one fell swoop, no intermission.

Then it was off to Howl at the Moon, a dueling piano bar. Basically, you write down a song request (wrapped in a tip) for one of the two pianists, and they get on the microphone and say, "I got one dollar for Piano Man and two dollars for Scenes from an Italian Restaurant; which one do you think I'm playing first?" Miss Manners would have a heart attack.

If it's Friday, it must be...

Mustache Day! Suffice it to say my father wears one much better than this.

Remember me?

I'm the guy who used to blog occasionally.

So I drove east, and the expected monsoon season never really materialized wherever I was. When it was pouring at the shore, I was in Philly. When it was pouring in Philly, I was at the shore. I ran and golfed and introduced my dad to casino poker and played Scrabble with mom ... a great time was had by this lifelong nerd.

My goals for the next week are: 1) Read the collected works of David Sedaris; 2) Try the new honey chipotle chicken sandwich at White Castle; 3) Join the local running club; 4) Shave once; 5) make it to my interview on time (I'm interviewing to report for a weekly in Missouri); 6) tell you what I thought about the first season of "24", which i just watched on Netflix.

Whew. What a crazy show. I loved it. I'd never seen any episode of it, ever. In case you haven't either, I won't spoil it. Just rent it or buy it or Netflix it or steal it, whatever.

OH. The best thing about going home? Bringing back Yuengling. (How many corporate plugs can I fit into one blog? Let's see ... a brewery, a network, a restaurant, a writer, a movie deliverer, a board game. I'm a sellout!)

I will be out of the office...

until Tuesday night. I'm headed east to D-town, Philly and the shore. Hopefully Stan the storm will meander away from the golf courses this weekend.

Oh, my head

I made it. I placed top 20 in a 1,200-person satellite, winning a seat in a Dec. 3 online poker tournament wherein first prize is one million dollars. 2nd through 10th are each 10 grand, and lots of other people win 100 or 50 bucks or something. The downside is, I cannot see now. Way too much fluorescent screen for one night, er, early morning.

Sigh...

I planned to be strict about keeping this whole blog Louisville-related, but I can't help but post a eulogy to the 2005 Phillies.

Man. That was close. You guys were so close to a playoff-playoff, one game away from one game away from glory. If Jose Macias hits his linedrive 10 mph sharper, it gets into center and the Cubs tie the game against Lidge for sure, and maybe win in extra innings. But that's life.

I may be an optimistic sap, but I'm looking forward to the 2006 season -- umpteen times more than I looked forward to 2005. Things to look forward to:
-Brett Myers putting it all together under a pitching coach he knows and trusts.
-Chase Utley and Ryan Howard doing exactly what they're already doing: becoming superstars.
-Jimmy Rollins gaining confidence from his hit streak and learning not to press -- and MAYBE learning to take more pitches to wear out opposing pitchers? Maybe?
-Shane Victorino getting a shot as the leadoff hitter and starting centerfielder.
-David "Nice Guy, But..." Bell playing somewhere else.
-Discovering if Gavin Floyd has what it takes or not.
-Crossing my fingers that Cole Hamels and Jason Michaels can behave themselves in bars all year. Pssh.

I don't think they can keep Billy Wagner or Ugueth Urbina, and I'm terrified that they'll trade Ryan Howard instead of cutting bait with an oft-injured Jim Thome. But hey! Hope springs eternal, and I figure maximizing my enjoyment and minimizing my disappointment is the way to go.

Yes, I've drunk the Kool-Aid. But there are bigger things to worry about. Like Donovan McNabb's "sports hernia". And Chris Webber's disturbing penchant for making out with Foxy Brown. CHRIS! You dated Tyra Banks! If I see you with your arm around Missy Elliott, we are going to have an abrupt conversation.

Mish-mash

Now that I'm not immersed in news on a 40-hour-a-week basis, I've found nonfiction books more palatable. Started Tom Friedman's "The Lexus and the Olive Tree," a globalization treatise, and more are to come.

I'm coming east for the first time this week: leaving Thursday and returning Monday or Tuesday. Gotta pick up some Yuengling and Wawa hoagies.

Pacing problems

Whatever is the matter with me? I set out today to run 8 miles at a 7:30 pace, but couldn't bring myself to start off that slowly, and by the time I'd done 4 miles at 6:50 pace, that was it. I was toast. Clearly, I'd have stood a better chance of finishing the 8 if I'd paced better. But the course is so hilly, it's hard for me to tell if I'm going too fast or too slow. Only 11 months until the Labor Day 5-miler in Ocean City ... I better be in shape for that.