island living

La Isla de Dallas is a sparsely inhabited place: husband, wife and baby girl. Island fauna consists of two cats, plus an annoyingly large number of pesky bugs that torment the island queen but provide much pleasure (both eating and playing) for the cats. The island is depressingly run down. Much work anticipated; at least the toilets function.

Queen grew up on the nearby mainland in Chicago. Crown Princess was born on mainland Chicago about a year and a half ago. The Thin Man is a refugee from the land of nuts and flakes, a.k.a. California, and more specifically, Huntington Beach, "Surf City U.S.A"-a beach community behind the Orange Curtain. By the way, thirty years of life in SoCal and I don't think I ever heard anyone call it the O.C. until that stupid show hit the air.

I've not much to offer on my first night of blogging. Tonight, the Red Sox won. Good for them; better for baseball fans. Anyone else sick of Ben Affleck and the collective self-pitying of an entire region? Finally, no more talk of the "Curse of the Bambino" and endless analysis of Game 6 of the '86 Series. Now I can marvel yet again over the continuing idiocy that constitutes baseball in this city and concentrate on the whining of Cubs fans about billy goats, Bartman and bad luck without seeing ESPN try to judge which team's curse is worse. Fortunately, my beloved Angels managed to exorcise their demons in 2002.

Looking forward to a brief kamikaze run out to L.A. for a weekend with a bunch of old fraternity brothers. I'm pretty sure somebody will give me post material.