Watching one of the morning news programs this morning I heard a reporter talk about all the people left without power while scenes of ice-draped trees and skidding cars filled the screen. Shortly after, I picked up the Herald and read the headline, buried on page 13, "Central US ice storm falls short of dire forecasts".
I like the Golden Globes: The actors seem more relaxed than at the Academy Awards - though last night the presence of alcohol didn't produce any embarrassing moments - and the awards are all in high-profile categories. I just wish that, on the red carpet, somebody, someday, would answer the question "Who are you wearing?" with "Sara Lee."
(I'm going on a short trip, returning here next Monday.)
Hania doesn't like it when I surf, but how else would I have found last night, on the MLB Network, Johnny Bench, Hank Aaron, Sandy Koufax, and Willie Mays sitting at a round table and talking baseball? Bob Costas, who led the conversation, called the gathering "baseball's Mount Rushmore." And, among the living, it probably was.
New Year’s Day I decided to get some exercise – my first in weeks – and went for a bike ride. Four minutes into it I came upon a block party; a band was playing in a cul-de-sac and tables were set with food and drink. A large man walking across the nearest lawn gave me a wave that turned into a gesture of invitation. I yelled that I’d stop on my way back.
I rode about a dozen blocks before turning around. The party was now in full swing. The man who had waved me over introduced me to a woman selling cups of sangria, then the man dispensing coffee, who was the owner, I learned, of the new café on 6th Street. Next to him a wine seller named Richard was doing tastings. Tina, who lives on 8th Street, introduced me to her sister who was visiting from Stockholm. A huge pan of paella appeared suddenly in someone’s driveway while I was talking to a woman from Belorussia. It was not great exercise but it was a wonderful way to begin the year.