Might as well be spring

One thing I love to do on cool spring nights is open the windows and let the air stir around the house. Usually this is accompanied by the velvet voice of Vin Scully, or Mario Impemba, or other favorite announcers, as they describe the action on the baseball diamond. I would do this tonight, in fact, were it not raining cats and dogs.

As it is I’m here in the office, typing copy, listening to Dan Dickerson tell me that the Tigers are blowing yet another one to the Royals up in Motown. Dang it, this team was picked to win the World Series. Good thing there’s 159 of these things left to go.

I like to walk in the early evening, during that period known as twilight (or "magic time" if you’re a fan of author W.P. Kinsella). One can feel so alive this time of year, full of vigor and hope.

Haven’t been feeling too well this week. I’m hoping to change that this weekend by hitting the Halls Greenway Trail if I feel better and it doesn’t keep raining.

BTW, I’m on a quest to find a vinyl copy of Joe Cocker’s "Mad Dogs and Englishmen" album. I found mine as I was cleaning things out before my move. Alas, it’s scratched all to pieces. CD would be OK, but there’s something special about that black vinyl.

Oh, well. Enough rambling. Time to get back to work.

Here’s hoping the Tigers can figure out how to score runs. They’re getting paid enough...