Nothing Really to Say

Nope, nothing much to say here.  I’m moderating a debate on the Ivy League’s superiority tomorrow.  Freya is sleeping, having just finished her first gym class at the Central Queens YMHA.  Jack is in pre-school.  Monica is working.  So I’m enjoying a brief respite on a beautiful and sunny Fall afternoon.  I’m being careful, as I write this, not to enter into any consequential thoughtful discursions, because this really is just a time-wasting, space-eating, making-sure-I-have-a-blog-entry-everyday type of post.

Think of this as small talk.  I had a nice few words exchanged with the grocer on the lovely weather, empty phrases uttered on a benign topic for the pleasure of hearing each other speak.  Sports is one topic that one can also discuss universally, although misplaced fanatical passions often ruin a chance for pleasant and polite conversation.  The weather used to be another safe topic for pleasant small talk, a topic universally experienced but so beyond our control that it was safely discussed.  But now the environmental obsessions of our current age have made the simple weather a topic of controversy, best avoided like politics or religion.

I like my socks.  Alas, they were probably made in a third-world sweatshop.  I’m not sure what I’ll have for lunch.  Alas, the thought of food makes me consider my growing waistline.  I need to get a haircut.  That’s pretty safe to mention.  I think I’ll get it cut short, and I’ll shave my beard myself.

The weather really is beautiful,  even if the Polar ice cap is irretrievably melting.

Better luck next year, Mets.  Let’s go Yankees!

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