My morning paper contained a want ad for a "sioux chef."
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Jeff is a person not happy to be reminded of the existence of Klaus Nomi. Sorry, Jeff.
We watched Obama's healthcare speech. Republicans and Blue Dogs, will your hearts not grow three sizes this day? Seriously. Listening to Obama is like listening to the unholy child of Jean-Luc Picard and Jed Bartlett. And he will be as the little children, showing us the way.
Moving on. Derek Jeter just matched Lou Gehrig's number of hits as a Yankee, and Jeff's dad is at the game. We have been watching his shirt all night -- he lucked into tickets right behind home plate. His face is mostly obscured by the wee scorebox that the YES Network puts up at the top of the screen. But still. Jeff is pretty sure that his dad will never stop talking about this. EVER.
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I live with someone so interested in baseball that he has achieved near-Ken Burns-like baseball historian status. Earlier today, we were discussing that baseball statistics might form a really great background to teaching kids fractions and decimal points. Jeff mentioned that it might not work because, by the time school is in session, baseball season is nearly over. I rejoined that it wouldn't be a problem -- you could pick a historical season of baseball, say 1957, and just pretend every game was being played daily as the school year wore on, and have the kids update their batting averages, etc. He suggested that 1983 would be a good year...
and then he told me why! The Pine Tar Incident (video here, exhaustive wiki here). Now you can teach your imaginary third graders not only math, but legal reasoning. Divvy the class into pro-and-anti-pine tar rule groups and have them debate the matter until they're hoarse. You can then finish them off with a round of baseball-themed literature: there's plenty. I fail to see how your baseball-themed classroom (although perhaps not No Child Left Behind-compliant, with its awesome disregard for testable results) will not leave your students smarter and more savvy. I certainly think my own appreciation of fractions (which languished, sadly, beyond its appointed date) would have proceeded apace if married to the semi-practical art of determining On-Base Percentages and allowed to flourish alongside poems celebrating the crack of the bat, etcetera.
Alas, as a child, I had no knowledge or interest of baseballs, pine-tar, etc. The closest I came was getting bit all over by mites living in a shipment of pinestraw delivered to my house for bedding shrubs. As it turns out, after you've been bit by about 3000 pine mites, you develop a slight fever and a number of wee red, round lesions that look a bit like chicken pox. Or measles. Or smallpox. Or any number of little-diagnosed tropical ailments. It was a fun week for everyone! (I was just fine after a little benadryl.)
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On Saturday, a AA double-header (Bowie Baysox v. Harrisburg Senators) and on Sunday, the Nationals vs. the Marlins. We saw the home team pull through in all three cases, ate many fried items, and witnessed a panoply of silly games. Also -- it was a special kids weekend at both ballparks, so a good deal of the announcing was courtesy of the 10 year-old set. There's nothing like hearing a 5th-grader nearly pass out trying to draw out the syllables in "Cristian Guuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuzzzzzmaaaaaaan." (Like the White King, I don't say there's nothing better, but there's certainly nothing like it).
Got some poetry housekeeping done, as well as some actual housekeeping. Pleasant sunny weather has given way to rain, which will be with us for a while. The three-day weekend has done me good. Last week was rather intense -- this cool-down period was well-timed.
Spent about an hour last evening on the roof, lying on my back, looking up into the branches of our neighbor's enormous weeping beech, watching the dragonflies that haunt its crown, as well as a variety of seagulls, swifts, and starlings. Very peaceful, especially with the low-slanting light that tells us we're heading into autumn. Jeff picked up pumpkin beer: this is his season, and he's celebrating. I've started to put my mind to thoughts of stews and pies.
My twee Jeffersonian tomatoes suffered some squirrel-based harrassment a couple of weeks back, but a new position and increased netting has deterred them from further incursions. The tomatoes are very funny: small (around 2-3 inches around) and not very prolific. Tomatoes from back before anyone actually bred them with a mind for size of either individual tomatoes or the total crop. We've had a few tomatoes off each vine: one ripens red and sweet; the other deep purple and tangy. I'll probably grow them again next year, but with a couple of other, more contemporary heirlooms. Also on my mind: peas.
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