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Did I unleash an ancient curse on my siblings when I wrote a post called “You Can Have It All” last December? The timelines absolve me of any responsibility but I feel implicated nevertheless.* It was only a couple months after first mentioning my sisters’ envy of my life, and mine of theirs, that Youngest […]

This has nothing to do with the 2005 film or Bunny Mellon, lest anyone be gripped by curiosity or fear. For nine days in a row I’ve felt like Steve Martin and Lily Tomlin at the end of All of Me, practically gliding on air.* I’m speaking figuratively, of course, and am mostly referring to

You couldn’t have asked for a worse first-round opponent for Rafael Nadal at this year’s Roland-Garros than Alexander Zverev, and Zverev’s recent Rome title has nothing to do with it: theirs is a mismatch of character, not styles of play. The odds favored Nadal losing early regardless of his opponent; with all his absences from

To paraphrase Allen Ginsberg, “I saw the best tennis players of my generation destroyed by aging, sweaty and hobbled in dirt-streaked kits.” It happened again today in Paris as Andy Murray and Stan Wawrinka, two of the ATP’s last great geezers still standing (if only barely) in their late thirties, met in the first round

“That’s really her name?!” Crankenstein asked late this afternoon, having emerged from her nap to find me half-watching an episode of Reba while folding laundry. She was referring to Park Overall, a national treasure whose credits I’ve rehashed for her in the past. But it never sticks, and once every year or two Overall is

… who went to the police academy. And they were each assigned very hazardous duties, like entertaining homosexuals for 48 years. Daylight was waning when the first batch of “Angels in Chains” figures made their way to my door this evening, and the lighting in my office will (regrettably) remain poor until I find a

Nothing I attempted to write tonight was worth reading and I considered going to bed without posting at all before deciding to keep myself honest. The reason I’m exhausted is fairly stupid: we got a new string trimmer. What (very) minimal setup it required — the video tutorial runs about 90 seconds — was embarrassingly

If you saw the title of this post and immediately heard Barbra Streisand’s bit-by-bits and piece-by-pieces, you should know that’s also what I thought of while gently assembling the potato truck earlier to verify everything fit.* The alignment is imperfect since it was photographed sans chassis (and glue), but I’d say it looks pretty nice

Since I’m short on time tonight, let’s resolve last week’s cliffhanger about the bubble-wrapped items that arrived in a box marked ‘fragile.’ Most of those bundles have been opened and as you can see, turning this into a not entirely horrible approximation of the potato truck from “Angels in Chains” will take quite an effort

Today, for the second time in a week, I was ‘on’ more often than not, so Crankenstein suggested we open a LEGO kit and get crackin’.* The one we selected has too many tiny delicate parts for me to construct it solo, but together we assembled two of its six bags of parts — comprising