Can you smell it? Freshly cut grass, dirt, resin, hot dogs, peanuts... That's the smell of summer, my friends.
Although honestly the only thing I can smell right now is the poison stench of smoke. They've hired this little guy to come in and do some work part-time. He looks to be about 40 and lives with his mama. And when he comes into the room, the stench of smoke off his clothes is stronger than any I've ever tried not to smell. I've affectionately nicknamed him Smokestack. We basically have someone on Lysol duty to just follow him around with a can all day. And by someone, I mean me. He doesn't seem to mind.
But I digress (and hold my breath). Summer is here. Oh sure, maybe not solstice-wise. But now that Pluto is no longer a planet, I figure we can pretty much throw anything we've learned about astronomy over the past thousand years out the window anyway.
Today is Opening Day for major league baseball. Opening Day means a fresh start. Everybody is tied for first. It means my beloved Reds will be on ESPN, for one of the few times all season. It means a brand new season full of possibilities and optimism. Except of course for the Royals. But at least they have a stadium with pretty waterfalls or fountains or something.
Opening Day is about hope. And in that way, isn't it a little metaphor for life. Because really, without hope, what do we have?
You'll notice I've changed my sidebar scoreboard from basketball to el beisbol. That's just Bone's little tribute to the increasing number of Spanish-speaking baseball players.
Welcome, amigos. Vamos Cincinnati!
"Baby, if you've ever wondered, wondered whatever became of me, I'm living on the air in Cincinnati..."