"LET'S GO OUT TO EAT"

I pleaded with my wife last night. Why? Because the Cardinals were on tv. They were actually leading 2-1 when I made my suggestion.

"I'd have to clean up (after a day of beating me on the golf course) and we have some leftover spaghetti and bruschetta..."

"Ok, but they're killing me." The Cardinals, of course.

The food was great. The Cardinals weren't. Sometimes I think I care more than they do. And that's usually symtomatic of a team just going through the motions. That appears to be the Cardinals.

With superior talent the last three years and only one World Series appearance--a 4 game sweep to the Red Sox, the Cardinals seemingly know they are going nowhere in this year's playoffs. If they even make it. As they head into the last week of the season, it seems a cinch. But facing Oswalt tonight and Clemens tomorrow, don't bet on it.

And if you see that star catcher, Yadi (he of .211 batting average who swings at almost every first pitch, he who cannot hold his head or body still and pops up in his stance just before the ball travelling at 90 mph plus comes at him) go out to the mound to talk to his pitcher, then change channels. It's not pretty what's coming next.

And if you see our 3rd sacker drive in a meaningful run, please e-mail me because I don't want to miss it. At 6'4'' and 240 pounds, you'd think he wouldn't be so brittle. He can play the hot corner--I'll give him that, but talk about being overpaid.

You know, they say that writing is theraputic. I feel better after bashing two Cardinals. But then, again, I care. I just wish they did.

SANCTUARY OR OASIS?
Somewhere this scene exists. The closest I've observed to this idyllic picture was in Capri, Italy.

Situated on a walkway high above a cove or inlet or fjord (ok, it wasn't a fjord), I was able to look far down into a cove or inlet (you get the idea) and marvel at the spectacular scenery.

Rock walls on both sides exposed a thousand feet drop to the clearest water I've ever seen. Somewhat like Caribbean water, emerald next to the shore, yet somehow so much purer looking. A solitary road snaked its way around to the base of a couple of huge rocks.

A blanket, twice the size of a normal one, was spread out perfectly with nothing tying it down. Picnic baskets complete with bread and Italian wine were off to one side. Well, that's what I figured was in them. Maybe some bruschetta, too.

Just off the road was a European sports car, sleek and black. Parked at an angle for a fast getaway if needed.

A couple completed the picture. The woman could have been this woman in the picture. The man: a stereotypical young Italian. He swam for awhile while she chose to catch some sun under a perfect Summer sky.

The others in our group chose to climb higher, go to a restaurant, sit on benches and look the other way at a forgettable view. But not me. Mesmerized, I stood and watched the couple. And the surroundings. Oasis or sanctuary? I'd say sactuary for I think they had been there before. And if I ever return to Capri, I know where I'm going.

HOMEFIELD
Since we've moved to the desert, I've attended every St. Louis Rams/St. Louis, err...Arizona Cardinals game when I've been in town. There has always been a huge contingent of Rams fans.
I always wear an old Rams generic jersey, the bright blue and yellow colors, with Rams written on the front just above #80. It's really a crummy shirt. The condition is fine: it's just goofy. It can't decide if it's a jersey or a tee shirt. I think one reason I like it is because of the great colors and reminders of the Super Bowl victory.
Yet another reason is that one day when I wore it to class, supporting the Student Council by wearing your favorite tee shirt/jersey with your favorite team, a student of mine thought I was also wearing shoulder pads. I figure if a preppy little freshman girl thought I looked that big in the shoulders, then the shirt must fit me pretty well.

I always get comments on it when I wear it because it's old. And because there are always a lot of Rams fans at the hometown Cardinals games.

I'm afraid not anymore. The new stadium displayed not only a beautiful facility, but one other striking sight--football Cardinal red. Nearly everywhere the tv cameras (yes, it was sold out and for the first time I could watch a home game on tv in Arizona) panned, there were Cardinal fans wearing Cardinal jerseys. What a strage sight!

So when my wife and I go to Cardinal Stadium Sunday afternoon all decked out in our Ram aparrel, I expect to hear some negative comments from the hometowners. But I'm ready. And I've had experience. When J. D. Drew took Schilling deep in the 8th inning of a 1-0 playoff game in 2001 in Arizona, Courtney and I were the only fans standing and cheering except for a group behind the St. Louis dugout.

We left after the next inning when Tony Womack scored the winning run off that dirty Kline pitcher. The fans were going wild: it was thunderously loud.

We probably won't stick around for the end of the Rams game on Sunday. You see, they don't know how to handle post football game traffic in Arizona. But it's ok. A least now they/we have a pro team.

I NEVER OWNED ONE OF THESE, BUT I'VE HAD A FEW CARS IN MY DAY

I wrote a blog entry about dogs and cats that I've owned. I figure it's time to write about cars that I've owned.

My first was a 1961 blue Chevy--absolute junk. Some guys threw a snake in it one time when the windows were down and it was parked on the street. I found it about a week later, still alive and terrorizing a friend, Mooch Morgan, in the backseat.
My next car was a '62 Salmon colored Oldsmobile. It was the only car I buried the speedometer on. Why? Young and dumb.
Next was a '68 Mercury Cougar. It had the sequential turn signal lights that I thought were really cool. It was a beauty and one of my all-time faves.
Next came a '70 Mercury Montego. Both it and the Cougar were yellow. I had the Montego longer than any other--7 years and when I traded it, it had only 48,000 miles on it.
At this time we became a two-car family. Actually, in the middle of the Montego reign. A 1974 Chevy Vega, green with the infamous aluminum, rather than steel crankcase.
Next in line was an Oldsmobile Cutlass, the first of two brown cars I would own. Actually, it was preceeded by a '77 red and white Pontiac Grand Am with a sun roof. The Cutlass was a '78.

Then came a 1984 Buick Skyhawk, gray with sporty wheels, followed by a gray Olsmobile 98, bought in the middle of the '86 teachers' strike.

A hail damaged 1989 Toyota, brown again, with a sun roof, began a string of Toyotas that ran for a decade. It was followed by a '92 Camry that was totalled when I was taking my dog to the vet and a cattle truck ran a red light right by the Police Dept and smashed me in the driver's side. Bandit and I got just a little bloody as the reinforced steel crossover bar in the door saved my lunch (an antiquated expression).

At the time I was discovering Toyotas, my wife found BMWs. A bronzit gold, still the prettiest color on a car I've seen, in 1989 started her run with a 3 series. It was followed by a black five series in '91 and again in '95.

In the meantime I was into the Toyota 4Runner and had bro

MY DOCTOR'S A CLOWN

Really. Dr. Doug Lakin worked his way through med school at John Hopkins' by being a professional clown.

His office is filled with pictures, artifacts, standees--"Turn left at the Three Stooges to get your blood work." John Wayne is another standee. There's also a rubber chicken in one of the waiting rooms.

The first time I went there, I noticed the Eggo pin that he had on his collar. He also has these posters in his room. One of them states "What Does this Say?"
I Love Paris
in the the
Springtime
I guess most people don't see the second the. I know I didn't.

He's good, he's quick, he e-mails you with a plan, along with your lab results. He encourages, yet tells you where you need to make improvements.

He usually makes Phoenix's top 100 MDs list, which makes up probably the top 2% in the valley.

He doesn't clown around at all. His office just looks like an offshoot of Pee Wee's Playhouse. He doesn't seem to take himself or his patients too seriously, yet he's sympathetic and caring.

At the end of your visit, he always says,"Th,Th, Th That's all folks." Ok, I made that part up.

YOU'LL READ ABOUT ME SOMEDAY

I forget sometimes that I no longer live in a small town. Where most people know me or know of me. They know I'm safe or harmless, as a friend of mine claims.

I used to tuck in tags. You know the ones in the backs of shirts that want to flip out after a washing or two. We all have them on notorious shirts that have rebellion in them. Mine currently is a faded Sun Devils' shirt. It's always out. But I get no help. I used to just tuck them back in, and tell the person either before or after that I had just tucked in their tag(s). Most everyone appreciated it.

When a friend and I were playing golf on Wednesday, the cart girl stopped to refresh us with ice. As she turned around, I noticed a small bug on her back. Naturally, I picked it off and told her what I'd done. I informed her it wasn't very big, and she seemed pleased that I had helped her. But I got to thinking. What if she didn't appreciate it? What if she thought I was a freak who wanted to brush against her with my picky fingers? I guess there might be guys like that.

But when a neighbor drove past and turned around in an across the street neighbor's driveway yesterday when I was checking the mail, I waved to her. Did I know her? No. But she didn't return my wave. She looked really offended that I waved at her. She gave me a look of disgust. Like she had been violated or something by my wave.

I don't tuck in tags anymore unless I really know the person. I don't think I'll pick off bugs either. Heck, I guess I won't throw up a hand either. I could get shot or something out in the old (unfriendly) West.

WHEN I NEVER GOT MY 100-GALLON AQUARIUM

I had an opportunity and a place to put a 100-gallon aquarium one time back in the 70's. Like a lot of my great ideas, it was vetoed by my wife. If you haven't heard when my wife and I have a disagreement she has a vote, I have a vote, and she has the tie breaker. In every case. I got that piece of advice from our pastor's father, Carl Wagner, and it has served me well.

Actually, we disagree so seldom that it's spooky. But hey, we've been married a long time and will mark yet another anniversary next week. So I guess we should think alike.

But I wanted that aquarium back then. It didn't help much when some friends of ours took it and placed in their house. It never looked quite right there because it belonged in our house at #2 Northbrook Dr.

I'd hear Glenda, the owner of the aquarium, complain about having to keep it cleaned and equipment going bad and an expensive fish or two or more dying. And I had sympathy. Somewhat. I knew the problem was that it should have been in my house. Keep in mind that goldfish in a gallon or two fish bowl was the closest thing to an aquarium that I'd ever had.

One day while they weren't home, the tank sprung a leak. A huge leak. All 100-gallons on their living room floor. Carpet--ruined. Tank--busted. Fish--dead, of course.

My wife was right again. Sometimes I'm glad she has the tie breaker.