Best Sunday Of The Year

For my money, the Sunday before Memorial Day is the best Sunday of the year — better than Super Sunday, better than Father’s Day, and better than the last day of the U.S. Open. Why? Because the next day is a day off!
This afternoon I plan to be out on my brick patio, drinking a frosty adult beverage, listening to music and preparing to grill out.

The Sunday before Labor Day is good, too, but not quite as good as the Sunday before Memorial Day. By Labor Day, kids have returned to school, the end of summer looms large, and winter seems just around the corner. On the Sunday before Memorial Day, on the other hand, summer is just ready to begin, the weather has turned warm, promise is in the air, and dreams of improvement on the golf course have not yet been dashed against the rocks of reality. So, enjoy this afternoon — it is unquestionably the best Sunday afternoon of the year.


State of Bankruptcy

Here’s an interesting editorial on the possibility that California might go into bankruptcy in an attempt to get its fiscal house in order — an option that some other governmental entities have exercised. It is sad state of affairs when elected leaders bring governmental bodies to this point, but the bankruptcy laws are there for good reasons. Better to use the bankruptcy laws to fix the problems that are driving California under than to use budget gimmicks and borrowing that will only make the problems worse in the long term.

Dogz in the ‘Hood

They say some people are cat people, and some people are dog people. Our neighborhood is a dog neighborhood.

Virtually every house has a dog, and some — like the folks across the street — have two, or three, or even four dogs. Each of these dogs has its own distinctive personality. Our house, of course, features the intellectually challenged Penny the Wonder Dog, who has the strongest ongoing chewing impulse in the history of the dog world. Next door is the constantly yapping Sassy, who bears a very stern countenance and prances around with a pig-like curlicue tail like she owns New Albany. Nearby, the angry Biscuit charges every passerby, ready to snap at their heels and doing periodic spin moves as she races pell-mell from side to side behind her invisible shock fence. In the other direction is the savvy Ms. Beagle, who likes to silently rush up on pedestrians before startling them by baying at the top of her lungs, and poor, sad Tiger, who paws the ground in frustration when the invisible fence prevents him from frolicking with every dog that goes by.

Sadder still are the dogs that never seem to get out of the house. When Penny and I stroll past on our walks, we can hear those dogs barking wildly inside their houses. These pathetic dogs obviously spend their days looking out the window, just hoping to see a little activity. It always reminds me of the Far Side cartoon where a sad-faced dog holding a violin looks out the window to see other dogs tormenting a cat. It seems unfair to keep a dog penned up inside all day.