So how was your Friday? I found myself at loose ends. Alan worked late, gym closed early, everybody else was booked. So this is what I did: I went home, poured myself a couple fingers of excellent rye whiskey in a Lalique crystal glass and dug into the DVR for a prizefight from a couple of weeks ago — not Mayweather-Berto, but the undercard, Martinez-Salido. Watched it. It was a fucking slugfest, went the distance, ended in a draw. I believe a bowl of popcorn was involved.
And that, friends, is how you spend a perfect Friday night. More or less. #old #winning
You gotta keep getting up in the morning. You never know the morning you’ll wake up a boxing fan. And liking rye whiskey.
The rest of the weekend progressed with this fabulous weather we’ve been having. There was a party, and some work. The latter involved a meeting in Grosse Pointe Park. I live in Grosse Pointe Woods. The meeting was three miles and change from my house. So I rode my bike. It was a beautiful day, and how many more will we even get?
You know what people in the Motor City say when you ride a bike, not for a workout, but as a means of transportation? OH MY GOD YOU RODE YOUR BIKE HERE? HOW FAR?!? A little over three miles, and they calm down.
“Oh, OK, I guess that’s not too far.”
The meeting ended, and I got up to leave. Both guys offered to let me put the bike into their trunks, and give me a ride home.
Well, I guess it is kind of a weirdo way to get around. Maybe I should move to Amsterdam.
So another week awaits. Clouds, maybe even some rain. Then more perfection. Should be fun.
A little light bloggage to start the week.
This piece on the way constant phone-checking, texting and other electronic communication is dividing and diminishing our ability to pay attention to one another touched a nerve with me. Every so often I think about how I used to handle having to look up facts, dates and other information, pre-internet. I’d mosey back to the newsroom library, call an actual librarian at the public library, or call someone I know would know. Kirk was my go-to source on anything baseball or sports-related, and I had others for different areas. Then, after we’d established the facts in need of verification, we’d catch up. That never happens anymore. Google knows all.
Don’t get me wrong; I love the Google, but I miss the human contact. And I noticed at the party last night, how people kept their phones near and would check them from time to time. I did it myself; it’s just what we do now. We all want to take a picture, maybe post it to a social network, and we all need to keep in touch with sitters or the office or whatever. They’re little balls and chains, they really are.
It was a beautiful night. I said to the host, “Look at that, would you,” indicating the moon rising in the east.
“An Instagram moon,” he said.
There you go.
I also have Shelley O, shutting it down at the state dinner last week. Tom and Lorenzo are very pleased. As am I.
OK, on to bed and the week ahead. Let’s do our best.