Disheveled After Effects

Yesterday it seemed like all of New England took a collective deep breath and let the accumulated stress of shepparding our beloved Bosox to the title bleed off.  It was apparent I was not the only one suffering from Post World Series Celebration Syndrome.  On my way to work there were at least three near miss accidents as less patient drivers (probably Yankee fans) tried to weave their way through the semiconscious Sox fans easing their way to work. There was also a lot of smiling going on. 

Everybody at work looked a little dazed but supremely content.  I had a meeting with the union business agent where I had to tell him some things that usually launches him into his signature histrionics.  Instead we both ended up talking about the game.  It was definitively the nicest conversation the two of us have ever had.  Ties that bind, don’t you know.

I polished off the latest john Sandford novel Storm Front which featured the redoubtable Virgil Flowers.  Sandford has latched on to a truly fascinating new character as his former superstar Lucas Davenport fades into middle age.  Flowers, or more appropriately, his nome de guerre “That F---ing Flowers”  is a supremely competent detective working for Davenport in rural Minnesota.  Each case he touches seems to blow up into some sort of major controversy while he is just trying to get more time to fish.

In this book Flowers investigates a simple case of archeological theft which soon has a Mossad agent, Hezbollah terrorists, and reality television stars converging on Mankato to divert Virgil from his piscatorial pursuits.  Sandford has a talent for creating memorable supporting characters and poking fun at his mid-west environs.  As usual I burned through this book entirely too quickly (Sandford does that to me) and recommend it wholeheartedly.  If you’re already a Sandford fan I won’t preach to the choir, you know all about Virgil.  If you’re unfortunate enough to have not discovered Sandford yet, do yourself a favor and read his Davenport series, all with the word “Prey” in the title. That will eventually prepare you for the inimitable F---ing Flowers.

A couple days ago I posted a picture of the poster from the movie The Counselor.  My sister in law down in Panama saw the picture and commented that she needed to be the woman between the two male stars.  Since I am always looking for ways to get back in the good graces of my beautiful sister in law – I obliged her.  I may never be able to return to Panama.

My Beloved Sister In Law Gets Her Wish

Back home I had other after effects to deal with.  Apparently my wife took advantage of the euphoria surrounding the Red Sox win to coax a promise of a night of dancing out of me if the Sox won.  While I felt that was a manifestly unfair manipulation of my passion for the Sox I’m prepared to deliver on the promise tonight (besides I do enjoy these dates – but don’t tell her).  Since we dance tonight tomorrow we pursue more a Anglo-Saxon type celebration converging with my elder sister’s in-laws at an Irish bar in Rhode Island (wait – I guess that’s more Celtic, but they’re all Italians).  What the hell we’re all Americans and that means we’re mutts (and proud of it).  Sox Rule!!!!!

Because .....It........Just........Doesn't..........Get........Old!