“Your national anthem is beautiful,” Lore said after watching a country music trio do the honors before game four. “But it is very easy to fuck up when the wrong person sings it.” She expects everyone to sing it the way Whitney Houston did.
My fortune cookie was empty tonight.
Weather forecasts for this area can be erratic, to the say the least, but this takes the cake.
Asparagus risotto with bacon 1, chicken fajita pizza 0.
Iowa City has an interesting mix of well-dressed churchgoers and well-dressed-but-rumpled walk-of-shamers milling around town this Easter Sunday morning.
I think the Speedway is a bad influence on Indianapolis drivers.
Instagram is our new toy.
I can’t remember the last time I bought a pen.
It’s snowing big-and-clumpies.
I was sad to hear Oscar Niemeyer died but I’m looking forward to see what his tomb looks like.
Not only did I see the Wienermobile on Sunday but today I saw a beaver at the park. I’m not sure which is more exciting.
I saw a real, honest-to-goodness Oscar Mayer Wienermobile turning out of gas station on Muscatine Avenue.
Cedar waxwings have visited the crabapple tree outside our apartment pretty regularly in the last month.
I’ve never known someone as adorably miserable as my wife when she’s sick.
The polling station had a bit of line when I got there first thing, but it was gone when I left.
I’m pretty sure you didn’t hit all those home runs this year with the bat on your shoulder, Miguel Cabrera.
Just sitting around tonight waiting for the Yankees to wake the hell up.
People who complain about the lack of “specifics” from presidential candidates are never specific about which specifics they want to hear.
If you think time travel stories are confusing, try watching the Back to the Future trilogy out of order.
Man, the kitchen absolutely reeks of cilantro. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad, but dinner was delicious.