Sunday

Low key day for me. Domestic stuff. My pal Roy and I did lunch at Gov's.

There was golf on TV this weekend. A non-Tour, small-field of 16 event called the Target Challenge. Hosted by Tiger. He won by a bunch. And contributed his winnings to his foundation. After not having watched golf for two months or so, I found it enjoyable viewing.

I'm really looking forward to Speedweeks at Daytona.

Sounds like I am Legend starring Will Smith may be an option for the 24th. It was the big draw this weekend. Wacha thinkin', 4? (Meet Me in St. Louis was on the classics channel this weekend.)

I caught glimpses of a couple of at least C-rated movies on cable this weekend in which Shelly Long and Cheryl Ladd each portrayed mothers to hot young daughters (who were the central characters in the movies). The disturbing thing to me was that these two actresses were at least minor fantasies of mine in years past. And I'm older than both of them! Actually, Shelly Long (whom you would not describe as aging gracefully) was amusing, at best, on Cheers, and did her best work in the sexually-charged Troop Beverly Hills. On the other hand, with proper lighting, a little Botox, and the right camera angles, Cheryl could still play a slightly older Charlie's Angel.

I feel a little guilty that the Christmas lights are still in storage in my basement. But not so guilty that I've scheduled a time to get them out to my front bushes.

A friend in C-town sent me a couple of short biker books that I read last week. (The books were short. I really don't know about the height of the bikers. As a rule, bikers tend to be shorter rather than taller.) The one book was the mental diary of the author's thoughts as he competed in a one-day amateur race in Europe 20-odd years ago. Mildly entertaining, but the guy was definitely anal retentive. He remembered all the races that he had competed in over the years (and specifics about each race), by the chronological number that he gave each race.

The one recurring factoid that he kept bringing up that I found identity with was the math in his current gear ratio. I don't necessarily worry about gear ratios, but I am always doing equations when I'm going up a hill. How many gears do I have left in my rear cassette? Do I have to go to my triple crank? Can I keep this cadence without dropping a gear? Do I need to get out of the saddle? Where's the beer vendor?

It wasn't meant to be a Christmas gift, but persistent delays basically made it so. My pal Roy's brother John acquired a framed Lance Armstrong work destined for me at another charity golf event this Fall. It's a series of all of Lance's Sports Illustrated cover shots. With an autographed card in the middle of the collage. It's going to be hung on a wall in my office. (The framed photo of Lance that Roy gave me a couple of years ago that hangs in our reception area still gets "oohs and aahs".)

Aunt Martha sent her Christmas e-card over the weekend. Nice family pics make the greeting very personal. I also received Uncle Phil's picture card last week. Great picture! Of his entire family at 1's wedding. Finally, I also recently received a very traditional card with annual letter from a long-time friend who has done a great job of keeping holiday traditions, through thick and thin, kids, grand kids, and every other family event. I admire her determination.

Just to give myself a little treat in the middle of the storm, I fired up Margret today. She initially resisted, but then couldn't deny my appeal. Those dual pipes purred like a kitty.

Hope everyone has a good week.

BCOT