A new week, slightly out of focus. Feed the cats, make the coffee, read Paul Krugman’s column.
Routines are the pitons hammered into the seams of blurry grey rock that is a Monday morning.
A quick check on the garden.
Passiflora sanguinolenta, sempervivums, Papaver rupifragum, Agave parrasana ‘Fireball,’ nerines, Callirhoe digitata.
Breakfast music, The Clash’s “Charlie Don’t Surf,” because last night’s movie “Moneyball” had posters of Joe Strummer on Billy Beane’s office wall.
A little more coffee, and I just might get a handhold on this Monday.
How was “Moneyball”? Any good?
DH will only go to movies with lots of explosions. Because when a guy goes to the movies, he really just wants to watch things blow up.
Hoov, I liked this movie and haven’t watched a baseball game since elementary school. Pitt is looking more and more like Benicio del Toro as he ages, which is a good thing, and still eats nonstop through his movies. He demolished a Twinkie in two gulps. MBAs, statistics and algorithms have changed baseball as they’ve changed finance, stock trading, etc. In baseball, it wasn’t a bad thing, per se, according to this movie.