The wife ran the Peachtree Road Race this morning, for the umpteenth time. I watched. Later tonight, grilled pork tenderloin with the secret family basting sauce (okay, okay, it's mostly white vinegar).
Today's Bleat is particularly lovely, made better by the inclusion of the bane of bottle-rocket warriors everywhere, the dreaded Whistling Moon Travellers. That little pause between the shriek and explosion always freaked me out (unless I was the one doing the shooting, of course).
Read Smash. And this.
I long for a bottlerocket fight. Few things were more fun as a kid than wandering the lonely suburban streets after dark looking for like-minded warriors.
One never knew those they tried to incinerate. Never met them before or after the battle, the loser only retreated into the night, defeated or depleted.
Much more fun than bb gun fights, imho.
Maybe next year you could run the Peachtree Road race for the first time. Hey, it isn't that hard. Just ask Mrs. Vodkapundit. A marathon isn't that much harder.
I say this as someone who qualified for and ran the Boston Marathon at the ripe old age of 57.
Drinking quality booze and fine wine is not incompatible with running; that's why a lot of us do both. One pays for the other.
Of course, knowing that your Saturday morning 20 mile long run starts at 6:00 am strongly suggests one limit one's prior night's wine consumption.
I think you and the MRS will be running a different kind of race this time next year. A race to keep up with your ever growing baby!
Pamela, that's going to come as something of a surprise to my particular wife (check the by-line)... ;-)
Will...ooooooops sorry. That'll teach me to read more carefully when I am having an insomia night.
Please accept my apologies.
Sorry I was mean to you over the MTV post. To make up for it:
The best way to grill pork tenderloin is with salt, pepper and oregano and then squeeze some lemon on it when you take it off the grill. (Alternate: Mix lemon juice with olive oil and pour it on after grilling.)
