OK, so we got on the topic of baseball.  While I shan't dwell too long, this is completely hysterical.  And not to kick the Cubs when they're down (10 games, 2.5 behind the Wild Card), while they're still mathematically a threat to the Redbirds, they're still fair game.

Note that I do not participate in the venerable Cardinal tradition of hating the Cubs -- when they made the NLCS last year, I was rooting for them along with everyone else who was hoping against hope for a Cubs - Red Sox Series.  And it took both the 2003 NLCS and ALCS to finally realize that, yes, of course, obviously, there really must be an immutable curse on both teams, delivered back near the turn of last century when goat farmers and poverty-stricken big-leaguers were competent in such black magic.  Ninety-six years without a World Series victory.  Man, that just can't be statistically possible, can it?  You really must have an honest-to-Whatever deity or some troll under a bridge who really really hates you.  Maybe that'll be Peter Jackson's next flick: an intrepid band of Cubs and Red Sox fans join forces to find and destroy the immortal wraith responsible for the curse, who skulks about the underworld with his scrying pool tuned to ESPN 24/7.

In other news, I saw Sophia Sunseri for the second time in Santa Monica last night -- absolutely fantastic.  Does the best "Summertime" since Ella & Louis.   And I got more hugs!  Musicians rock.

And much has been made about the Bush twins campaigning for their father in the upcoming elections.

And I am really, really worried about that.

 

I'm pretty sure that no one reading this cares one way or another, but the St. Louis Cardinals are the best team in baseball.  Better than the Yankees.  Straight up.  I give you the 2004 World Series Champions.
 
Oh yeah, and I'll be in Santa Monica tomorrow watching Sofia Sunseri at the Temple Bar yet again.  I cannot be bored in this town!

And I had an absolutely fantastic weekend in Santa Barbara this past weekend with my friend Tracey (proud Canadian I met in Taiwan, and adopted mother of Taiwanese shitzu dog Xiang Xiang -- that's what she calls him.  His real name is Xiang Rou, aka Dogmeat).

And I found out that Santa Barbara is a beautiful place.  And it definitely knows it.
 
Stay tuned for our regularly scheduled oddball crap.

Very long day in the field today, and I'm reminded of the Calvin and Hobbes strip where Calvin's scraping and brushing off things in the garden with his dad's shaving brush and concludes that archaeology must be the most mind-numbing job in the world. And he's only correct insofar that archaeology can be, at times the most mind-numbing job in the world, especially when you're not finding crap in a sea of dirt, mud, and sand. Like today.

So the mind wanders, finding ways of keeping itself tolerably amused. I'm digging around, jogging through the extensive jukebox in my head. I'm also reminded of the time I labored as a serf for Burger King during my undergrad years, when I'd get both insufferably bored and reeeeally punchy in the wee hours and start making up songs in my head about whatever I happened to be doing at the time. Washing off the burger pans? (sung to the tune of the Pixies' "Debaser") Carrying boxes! Whaa-ha-ha-ho! Thawin' out burgers! Whaa-ha-ha-ho! Feelin' so greasy! Wha-ha-ha-ho! Gotta go! Go and get! Get the degreaser! DE-GREASER! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!

And of course my work today was nowhere near so tedious, degrading, or downright scary, but I was getting a little distracted by the lack of productivity of the soil. So my mind is wandering, and I catch a glimpse of my red flagging tape, used for marking buckets of dirt or tying around poles to mark positions, etc. And my mind comes up with:

red flagging tape

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Mediterranean-looking fiancee

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Fun!

So it's these little moments of reverie that give rise to some really great ideas. Maybe. I might just be sleeping on the spare futon next time I'm home.

Thanks again for all the birthday wishes and kind words -- I'm very grateful for such friends. I might even have to meet some of you someday!

And lastly, I lob the hot Happy Birthday potato to Heather. I would wish her a happy day, but I spoke with her tonight on her cell phone, and she's waaaaay ahead of me.

Thanks for the birthday wishes (and Dan, 31 just feels like a reification of 30 -- kind of like the millenium really begins with 2001 blah blah blah. 2000 was the really big deal. Look how 2001 turned out)! My crew took me bowling. I suck. But I sucked for free tonight!

I know Martha (the Righteous) posted this indirectly via the Mosquito thing, but this had me rolling (via the politically-minded 15-year-old within).

And I'm 31 tomorrow! yay

Please welcome the hard-hitting blog stylings of former Tucsonan, current Seattlite, and archaeological apostate made good Heather Krause. Congrats on taking up the cyber-bullhorn -- always good to read about a friend's intellectual exploits.