Some of this is from emails I’ve written today, recounting events that took place between 6:00PM last night and well, later. Some of the names have been changed because I don’t want people hatin’ on me.

First of all, at 10:32PM, and toward the end of a 90 FREAKIN’ MINUTE phone call (more on that later), I get an email from “Coach,” who, commenting on my recent blogging of the Pats game wrote, “He not only chased him down from behind, he tackled and landed on top of Jackson knocking every breath of air out of his lungs. I love Wilfork!” Coach was writing his regrets for not attending the NEC reunion due to his accommodations at Mass General Hospital last night. I hope Coach’s physical health improves, but I should note his mental health is far beyond the current capabilities of Freudian psychology or the vast pharmaceutical industry… Only he could read that blog post and know the freakin’ plays I was referring to.

At two hours past 7:00 I was getting some air outside a hot Irish Pub full of imbibing Marketing professionals when my lovely ex called me, and like an only-Andy Rooney episode of “90 Minutes,” recaps the reunion in gruesome detail. Long story, but right now she seems to be in a “whoever talks the most, wins” phase, and of course the first thing out of her mouth was, “Esmerelda (literary license) hasn’t changed a bit. She’s as beautiful as ever.” At that point I thought I was being mugged on the tough streets of Newport as a cold, stabbing pain seared my back, but it was only the cut of beautiful words.

As a “glass half-full” kind of guy, the fact I went three half hours without a glass at all was addition by subtraction. When I walked into the dive across the street that everyone had traded up to from the sauna, I was walking more upright than most. As the night regressed, I did learn that lesbians prefer comfortable shoes over heels, and “The U” may have a pretty good football team again. Oh, and while I had “Newport Storm” beer and Cabernet earlier in the night, Maker’s on the rocks just works. Speaking of work, it is for me to socially circulate, but I put the effort in and here are some of the things I heard…

From two different women I took in, “You have kind eyes” and “I was intimidated by your eyes.” So, I guess I have to be very careful about whether I wear my kind eyes or my angry eyes. Finally, aside from my knifing, was the coup de grace of my evening. As I shifted to dissuade the affectionate show of appreciation from a “one too many” 20-something in the bar, my ego was thoroughly enjoying the affirmation. “Yeah, baby. I still got it going on!” Or something like that. As I nodded and smiled approvingly, but also with mock humility at the compliments, the ultimate loud record scratch ripped through my cochlea like a rusty wire brush with, “You remind me of my Grampa.”

“Is someone twisting a knife in your back?
Are you being attacked?
Oh, this is a fact that you need to know”

Wilco (the song)

I’ll be in Newport, RI tomorrow night socializing with current work acquaintances while ex-cube farmers from NEC re-union in Boxborough, MA. Honestly, part of me would like to swap locations, but the hand of fate (yeah, I’m still on the B&B; kick) placed me a couple hours South. However, in an almost game time decision, my lovely-ex will be at the NEC gathering and yours truly got her a male escort for the occasion! Yep. My old friend Tommy K, who goes way back with me to NEC and is the guy responsible for me enjoying my current gig, accepted the challenge and will walk in as Gigi’s “arm candy.” (His words; not mine.)

There are only a few people on the reunion list I wanted to see, and it would have been very interesting to see them. Reunions are a time to see if the old flame that dumped you got fat and ugly or ended up with someone that did. Well, they are in my little mind… The starkest memories from the last reunion I attended were the confirmed alcoholism of a big HS drinker who was carried out of the hall, and the fact I didn’t recognize one of the “untouchable” girls from my class. Ooops. Sorry, I’m drifting. Anyway, I also was really surprised at the names I didn’t see, and when I read in the script, “Leo (in Newport),” it confirmed I was one of them. While I won’t be there, between the fabulous Gigi and “Tommy Bar” as my understudy, I expect to receive two very contrasting perspectives on the evening.

Pre-Game

• Uh, Tom Delay is going to be on “Dancing with the Stars?” As if that didn’t suck enough already. Jeez. I feel sicker than I did in the first quarter of the opener last year.
• Is TO the Kanye West of the eneffel?
• They should boot Hank Jr. and have Hank “tree” open these games.
• Already I can tell this isn’t as much fun as cracking right-wing nuts.

1st Quarter

• I think that kicker regrets going near Lawrence Maroney.
• Wow, that was a very generous spot on the 3rd down pass to Faulk…
• Hmmm… In the past Brady would have snuck for the 4 inches.
• OK, commercials suck, but the Autotrader one wasn’t bad.
• What a freakin’ neck on Posluszny
• Brady is jacked and overthrowing… Settle down, big guy.
• Um, that was a nice sweater.
• Oh, and Maddy can say, “Football… Woooooo!!!” She’s so talented.
• Hey, there’s Leslie’s TV!
• Nice tackling on that Trent Edwards scramble… WTF? This is football!
• Shouldn’t the Pat’s be up like 14-0 by now?
• Jerrod Mayo hurt??? Oh, wait, that’s not important. Let’s run an IBM commercial.
• Sorry, but Corona in a can just isn’t going to work.
• Vince is tired because he just chased down a running back on the prior play. Pay attention!
• Oh, what? The Bills scored?
• OK, at what point will the Pats figure out they need to block and tackle tonight?
• The Adrian Peterson B&W; Nike commercial is art.
• Didn’t Richard Seymour used to play where that big friggin hole has been all night?
• Well, that was a good first quarter for NFL fans already under a snow emergency…
  

2nd Quarter

• Gotta catch that, TO…
• I like the Bills effort on D.
• FIOS seems cool, but I can’t bear to give Verizon another dime.
• Man, Tedy Bruschi’s been invisible tonight.
• Two words: Kevin Faulk.
• Now THAT was a Brady rope to Moss!
• I repeat: Kevin Faulk.
• Nice drive, and the rust is coming off Mr. Brady. He threaded that pass to Welker.
• Who’s that Packer with the Fabio ‘do?
• Trent Edwards really needs to shave that cheesy ‘stache.
• Oh, yeah. I’ll be all over a Chicken Parm at Dunkins…
• It seems maybe Bill Belichick went all vampire on the asses of his defenders.
• Example Lee Bodden…
• The Dirty Dancer has died. RIP Patrick Swayze.
• Oh, and 63% of doctors favor a public option…
• I’m sure the ad agencies are cutting GM a break ‘cuz it’s our tax dollars, right?

Halftime

• Southwest loves bags.
• Can a guy in a marching band hat really be “the soul?”

3rd Quarter

• Intentional grounding maybe, but roughing the passer?
• Dickipedia entry for Kanye West
• Tom Brady sound a little like Beavis when he’s trying to draw the Bills offside.
• It seems Beavis is establishing a rhythm…
• If “that’s Tom Brady,” then who was that other guy?
• Oh, the other guy just threw a 4th and 2 at Welker’s feet.
• OK, I want that smiling jackass to be caught and mauled by the bear.
• The Pats are still losing…
• Now by 7 again…
• Buffalo is very undiciplined… Spearing?
• Brady runs for the first! He hasn’t lost a step… He’s still slow.

4th Quarter

• Bob Kraft has got to lose the blue shirt / white collar thing.
• One more time. Kevin Faulk.
• Maybe TO’s not big on Buffalo wings.
• 3 auto insurers duking it out tonight… I’m not mentioning them.
• What’s with the 1/2 second “Are your credit cards max…” commercialis interuptus?
• OH! TO mouthing off and the interference call is on him!
• Whoa… Nice screen for 17 and a first. Buffalo is believing it now.
• Adalius Thomas has been a disappointment. That penalty didn’t help.
• Wow is right.
• Wouldn’t 36 hour Cialis almost certainly cause some degree of lost vision and hearing, along with a pulled hammy? I’m just sayin’.
• Where does New England need to go? Uh, the end zone.
• Galloway? Seems he retired too.
• Nice catch, Ben.
• Good thing you didn’t drop that one or you would have been joining big Sey in Oaktown.
• Should have taken a knee, son.
• If the Bills lose this game, they beat themselves.
• I think this Christmas will be a good time to pick up a PS3, Wii or xBox. The price cutting is already underway.
• OK Ben, that was a sweet catch.
• Please just tackle now.
• “A defining moment for Trent Edwards?” Unlikely. These announcers… Every situation is not monumental. This one better not be.
• And in other rugby action tonight…

Postgame

• Couldn’t Brady just be gracious and tell Suzie Kolber he wanted to kiss her?
• The Patriots were very lucky to win tonight. If Mayo is seriously hurt, that defense is in trouble.

Most of yesterday was hurried, and that’s not a good word when much of it was spent attempting to execute golf shots, not to be confused with executing golf balls. While I didn’t mean to kill any, I left several abandoned in the woods, their well-being unknown. My rushed day actually began Thursday night, the result of another health-care fiction. Not the Republican “death panel” kind, but more of the “oh my god, I’m gonna die… Nevermind, I’m fine… again.” Anyway, dropping my boy off at oh-seven thirty school put my 9AM presence for a shotgun start in jeopardy. Rather than stress over it for the next 90 minutes, I took the back roads to Windham, NH and fired up the newly downloaded “Black and Blue” ($5 at bigasssouthamericanriver.com).

If you’re just a casual Stones fan, and I am compared to some, (1981’s “Tattoo You” was my last purchase and it was on vinyl) Black and Blue transitioned the band from Mick Taylor to Ronnie Wood guitar playing and toward the brilliant “Some Girls” in 1978. The record sprinkles reggae, jazz, a big dollop of funk provided by Billy Preston, and some white boy soul from Mick on “Fool to Cry.” Winding along the rural route, this fool repeated that one a few times. Sometimes words speak right to you. Not the way the dog did to “Son of Sam” David Berkowitz, but to where you are.

Fresh off some excellent sing along with Mick, I arrived at 8:58, threw on my spikes, didn’t find my glove, and was hustled out to #17 past the cat calls and images of people pointing at watches while shaking their squashes disapprovingly. You don’t be late for “the Funnyman.” “You gotta hit” was the first thing I heard from the trio with their heads hung, reflective of their first hole ineptness. I casually informed them this would be my first swing of 2009 and it would be best if they simply lowered their expectations. I hit a straight line drive about 200 yards into the left fringe, safe. For the next dozen holes I’m sure my teammates essentially flat lined their expectations of the game I brought. By our last 3 or 4 we divoted the dream of Funnyman glory, and were mentally already drinking. Not surprisingly, we all began having more fun and playing better. I hit a second shot 3-wood about 200 yards to within 15’ of the pin. That one shot plus 3 Advil “Farved” me into a return next year.

Discussion of my evening plan prompted a crude, but hilarious bad golf analogy from cart-partner Tony, and then it was off to it. Hours later, as I trailed off a vacation story about accidentally finding the restaurant from the film “Sideways,” I ordered a Pinot Noir from the bartender. “We have blah-blah-blah or Hitching Post.” Uh, yeah. From there the frenetic pace of the day dissolved…

“Daddy you’re a fool to cry
And it makes me wonder why.”

Jagger/Richards

Someone had to do it, and as the “father of modern punctuation,” the Italian printer Aldus Manutius the Elder delivered the semicolon. On the right-brain side of the ledger, ol’ Aldus is also credited with inventing the italics typeface. For the record, he’s not responsible for semicolon use as a wink. 😉 Here’s a good description of its use.

My issue with the semicolon is its overuse “separating closely related independent clauses,” or “dealing with two sentences that can’t keep their hands off each other.”1. An old acquaintance used to pepper sentences with semicolons, and too much pepper overwhelms the senses, distorting the flavor of the dish. Robin L. Simmons writes, “Semicolons are like glasses of champagne; save them for special occasions.”

I agree. Semicolon use is considered by some a sign of educational achievement, at least in grammar, while others read snobbery. Overuse creates imagery of the author leaning out over the Empire State’s edge screaming, “I AM SMART!!! I USE THE SEMICOLOOOOONNNN!!!” Well, overreaching on analogy isn’t good either. To put a succinct point on it, the semicolon lacks the closure of a period. In most of the independent clause scenarios a comma gets the job done, while a period may simply end the confusion.

“When Hemingway killed himself he put a period at the end of his life. Old age is more like a semicolon.” – Kurt Vonnegut

1. By Stephanie

It’s said one should not look too closely at the legislative process of how our laws are made. That’s never been more true as the locusts of the health care lobby swarm to strip bare any threat to the profits of their clients, but I digress…

Another thing to avoid is web metrics. Recently I was digesting some Google Analytics for this space and discovered the #1 search term bringing people here is “leo daley sucks.” Hmmm… That got me thinking:

• Is it me being searched?
• Is is one person or many?
• Do I in fact, suck?

I can’t definitively answer 1 or 2, but my opinion on #3 is “no,” I don’t suck. However, if you have come here 30 times in the last 30 days using this amusing route, please let us all know. I could be wrong!

For the youngest child of nine, living up to the accomplishments of older siblings must have been daunting when the expectation of the father was for the sons to be President. Heap upon that the early, violent demise of your three older brothers, plus a deadly personal mistake, and it’s amazing Ted Kennedy didn’t just fade away. Yet, fighting through drunken demons and unattainable family expectations, “the lion of the Senate” built a life his brothers surely would have envied.

I was never a big fan of Ted Kennedy. A young man of lesser privilege would have spent more time on the floor of a Massachusetts prison than that of the Senate for his actions at Chappaquiddick, and it’s entitlement like that tearing at the fabric of America, but it seems he spent the balance of his life atoning for that deadly night.

When I tuned into coverage of his memorial, hundreds of his staffers were assembled near his office in Washington and elevated their applause upon the emergence of the Senators wife, Vicki. She seems a woman with all the grace of Jackie Kennedy, and based on the reporting, it’s Victoria Reggie Kennedy who pulled Ted Kennedy back from a life of guilty self-destruction, and into a place where love allowed life to be lived fully.

As military honor guards lowered a wooden box to the top of a symbolic resting place, darkness shrouded the glare this family has endured for a half century. When the grandchildren tearfully spoke, we only heard. When the flag was precisely folded and presented to the widow, only the flicker of one brother and the ideals of another threw light. It was private and perfect. Sometime during those moments, I heard these words sung in my head. The man lived a full life, although much of it was with fear of his brothers’ fate, and sixteen months ago fate delivered a death sentence. Now all that was left for Ted Kennedy was release.

“Oh, dear dad, can you see me now
I am myself, like you somehow
Ill wait up in the dark for you to speak to me
Ill open up…
Release me…”

Pearl Jam – “Release”
Songwriters: Krusen, Stone Gossard, Mike Ament, Mike Mccready, Eddie Vedder

I updated my Quicken file with all the vacation expenses Kyle and I incurred during our “best vacation ever” (so far), but as Mo Vaughn once said, “It ain’t about the money.” In my effort to document the trip, I’ve come up with some numbers I find interesting. Maybe you will too.

• Days – 14 – August 9 to 22
• Hours spent on work – Less than 1
• Miles Driven – 2,812
• Longest – 415 miles – Tucson to San Diego
• Shortest – 88 miles – SF to Sacramento
• States – 3 – Arizona, California, Nevada
• National Parks – 3 – Death Valley, Grand Canyon, Yosemite
• Border Patrol Stops – 3 along I8 between Tucson and San Diego
• Casinos – 3 – Caesar’s, Luxor, Mandalay Bay
• Miles Flown – 4,731
• Tires Blown – 1
• Wine Tasting Fee – $10 at V. Sattui (a first, but they can get it)
• Art Visiting Free – Cornerstone Gardens in Napa which used to have a fee…
• California Wildfires Caused by Pot Growers Seen – 1
• Hotels – 9
• Restaurant Chains – 1 – Maggiano’s in Vegas (Kyle request)
• Bags of ice – 3
• Workouts – 3 – Tucson, Sacramento and Vegas
• Highest Overnight Parking Fee – $50 – SF Hyatt
• Lowest – $0
• Hours listening to “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows” – 21
• Hours listening to Celine Dion – Too many…
• Tolls – None!
• Debit card fee at a gas station – $0.35 – Never heard of this one…
• Laundromats – 1
• Bottles of Maker’s Mark – 1 with my life-long friend, Mike Gonnella
• Cigars – 1
• Huevos Rancheros for Breakfast – 5
• High Temp – 109 along I8 between Tucson/SD and in Death Valley
• Low Temp – 58 in SF, but it felt pretty cold in Sacramento too…
• Rain – Some spitting in Phoenix our last night, but it registered as 0 inches.
• Highest Elevation – 9,943 feet – Tioga Pass, our eastern exit point from Yosemite National Park.
• Lowest Elevation – 196 feet below sea level – Route 190 in Death Valley
• Maximum Highway Grade – 6% in many mountain ascents and descents
• Red rocks taken from Sedona – 3 (1 given to Nina Gonnella)
• Pounds – -1, but I was hoping for better.
• Pictures – 338
• Memories – immeasurable – and the only metric that matters.

There’s really not much I can add to these 1977 stills except to note the talents of the costume designers and make-up artist…

Kyle is really enjoying his First Class experience with bottomless “Bloody Mary” mix in glass with lime, hot nuts and real food. He had corn flakes on the Phoenix-Chicago leg and is now salivating at the grilled salmon. For a guy who relishes the Olive Garden, this food is pretty tasty. Just looking at his culinary anticipating eyes is more frosting on a perfect vacation cake that was not left out in the rain.

Being served a meal on a plane may be Kyle’s most fun dining experience, but earlier research indicates the Chilean Sea Bass in a curry reduction as San Francisco’s Tadich Grill was his favorite meal. Here are some other bests and worsts of the trip.

Drive
Best: Pismo Beach to SF along the PCH.
Worst: Tucson to San Diego when we came 26 miles from no gas.

Surprise
Best: Finding the Hitching Post on a random exit during favorite drive…
Worst: $25 parking fee/night in a lot at the Mission Bay Hilton.

Hotel
Best: Trump in Vegas – Very nice accommodations, pool, and beds.
Worst: Trump in Vegas – No personality whatsoever. Next time in Vegas I’d like to try the Mandalay Bay affiliated “The Hotel.” It reeked of cool.

Beef Jerky
Best: Local teriyaki in Bishop, CA, but it was $34.95/lb and Kyle ate it all. He said it was delicious…
Worst: $9.99 bag of “Jim Beam” branded corporate crap at DFW.

Tourist Trap
Best: Titanic Exhibit at Luxor – Included a 100% scale reconstruction of the Grand Staircase.
Worst: $8 for chips and a Coke at the San Diego Zoo.

Experience
Best: Catching up with Mike G and his family.
Worst: Changing a flat tire on a 6 lane highway near dusk outside SF.