Mulling things on my morning ramble with Storm, the family's mixed Lab.
I realize a man in my spot should focus on the trilling of red-winged blackbirds around the town pond this morning, the jerky flight of the northern flicker and the drilling of woodpeckers.
But there's a hater in me that insists on coming out.
Which brings me to the glorious Opening Day yesterday.
For the first time in many years, I had a chance to sit in a tavern for the final couple innings.
There is something wonderful about watching baseball on a big TV in a tavern on Opening Day. Especially with an afternoon bartender in full Sox regalia worthy of Elliott Harris' Quick Hits pages in the Sun-Times.
But I digress.
It was only for the final two innings of the Sox game with Putz and Thornton locking down the shutout for Buehrle.
I had been driving when Buehrle made his play and only heard the call by D.J. and Farmer on The Score.
But there was plenty of replays, even doing the final innings. There will be replays of that play for months, maybe years, to come.
Just a glorious day.
So glorious, that I called Ken ``The Lakefront Lip'' Schneider to gloat. Like I said, there's some hater in me.
While I am busting The Lip's chops, on another TV screen the Cubs game is on and I see Zambrano give up a three-run blast to put Atlanta up 6-3.
It only made the day more perfect.
Hate to say it.