I was on the way home from the park at lunchtime yesterday, listening to ‘Fresh Air,’ and being subjected to a book review by Maureen Corrigan. For some reason, I find her painful to listen to – probably because of the tediously precise enunciation she no doubt prides herself on – and I find her reviews insipid and annoying (which, with a couple of exceptions, is probably the job description of an NPR critic). She’s the sort of English professor who’d have stood in front of the class declaring as fact that the sled rusting on the front lawn is clearly a microcosm representing the human condition, while, really, it was just a fucking sled.

The nice thing about those teachers was that all you needed to do was parrot back whatever they said, and you were good to go. Of course, that’s not really fair, as I don’t know Corrigan. Maybe she’s a terrific teacher (though her official titles at Georgetown – ‘Critic in Residence’ and ‘Lecturer’ – lead me to believe she’s more of a pontificator than a ‘teacher’). Could be I just don’t like her because, as far as I can tell, she’s never been anything but a critic, and written nothing more than reviews of other people’s books and a memoir about her life reviewing other people’s books. Or it might be I just don’t like her because she’s from Georgetown.

Speaking of Georgetown, the rather unthinkable happened here the other night. Former G’town hoops coach (and the man we loved to hate here for 20 years or so) John Thompson was honored as Citizen of the Year by Temple Adath Yeshurun. For those of you who don’t know, this would be a bit like the Association of Reproductive Health Professionals honoring James Charles Kopp. But times change, and Thompson hasn’t been the GT coach in more than a decade, so we hate him slightly less, and apparently a good time was had by all.

Big weekend coming up in these parts. Aside from the obvious holiday stuff (which will no doubt include three days of fireworks to scare the dogs), it’s “Indy-pendence” weekend at Watkins Glen, as the Grand Prix comes to town. I’m not really a racing fan, but I’ll take Indy cars going around the twisty-turny 3½ mile track at the Glen over watching a bunch of stock cars go around and around a circle any day. Plus, Watkins Glen is a beautiful park and a great place to go hiking and camping (when there’s not a race going on there), as opposed to, say, Talladega, which is a big flat ugly scab in Alabama.

Well, I reckon I better get moving. Lots to do today, with a trip to the Pet Store (Granny left me with no cat litter, and I’ve been making the mistake of feeding them), plus I need to cook up some dog chicken. I was gonna get a haircut, but I did it myself the other day (now I look like a fat Moe Howard, which I suppose is better than looking like the Comic Book Guy on The Simpsons, which is where I was heading), so that’s out of the way. And I converted the furnace HEPA filter to a new, better, easier to change version last night, so that’s out of the way, too. I’m expecting a replacement sideview mirror for my van today (though it’s coming FedEx, so who knows where they’ll actually deliver it. The dogs have to go out to the park of course, and there’s still lots of work to do in the living room. Busy, busy, busy.

Oh well. Beats working.