Sergio Garcia is no longer one of the best players to have never won a major tournament.
Golf has a new Masters champion.
And I’m going fishing tomorrow.
At this point, you might be asking yourself why I’m planning to dunk a few worms on a Monday – the beginning of the work week.
Tomorrow is my birthday. I’ve taken the day off and I want to spend it breaking in the new rod I bought last week as a present to myself.
I’m not sure why I bothered to fetch a new pole home from the sporting goods store. I don’t deserve it. I’m a terrible fisherman.
The thing is, though, I’m an even worse golfer. You’ll never see me in a major tournament playoff like the one Sergio Garcia and Justin Rose engaged in to decide the 2017 Masters at Augusta National.
But if Garcia can stick with golf and finally win a major tournament after more than 70 tries, the least I can do is try to actually catch a birthday fish or two.
I’m just getting around to watching HBO’s “Deadwood.”
The show premiered years ago – in 2004 to be exact – so I’m late to the gold rush.
Sorry. I was busy raising kids.
Anyway, “Deadwood” won wide acclaim during its three season run.
All I’ll add to what’s already been said about it is this – “Deadwood” is gloriously profane.
This picture would have turned out better if (a) I had taken it with something other than my phone, and (b) if I would take time away from my busy nap schedule to learn my way around the REAL camera I begged my wife to buy a few years ago and is now gathering dust somewhere in a corner of our house.
Still, I think it’s worth posting here. It’s a picture of the Register Building in Shepherdstown, WV. Despite its deficiencies, it seems to capture the warmth of the ground floor on an unusually mild late winter evening in March.
The Register Building used to be in the family. My great-grandfather, Harry Lambright Snyder, ran the old Shepherdstown Register newspaper out of it.
The paper stopped publishing in the 1950s. But even after all these years, this old building still displays the Register’s masthead on top.
Drive by our house today and you’ll see this guy.
I noticed him blooming in our front yard when I took our big dog Rodney out for a jaunt around the neighborhood.
Thought about trying to talk him into waiting until at least March, but it seems a bit late for that.
Near 80 degrees.
On FEBRUARY 24th.
My Crocs called.
Don’t tell my wife. She might start re-thinking her life choices.
Because I suspect you’re dying to know why I trimmed my beard after I mentioned giving it a buzz cut yesterday, take note of the weather at my house – it was 76 degrees this afternoon.
It’s early in the year, but with temperatures this warm, trimming my beard simply seemed like the right thing to do. I now look more like my social media profile pictures than I have in months.
When I say I trimmed my beard, I mean most of it. I left my mustache and chin alone, but the rest of the hair on my face is now so short as to be negligible.
I should probably suck it up and shave, but here’s the thing – spring may SEEM to be taking hold, but trusting the weather this time of year would be like trusting our big dog Rodney not to bark maniacally when it’s time for a walk.
Better safe than sorry.
A little stubble for the time being seems like the right idea. After all, there are still several more weeks of winter on the calendar.
By the way, don’t tell my wife I wrote about my beard. She already thinks I’m too obsessed with it.
This will just confirm her suspicions.
I was just trying to decide whether I should write a post explaining why I trimmed my beard to almost nothing today when my phone started receiving alerts.
The first was from the New York Times. Not long after I started reading about the discovery of SEVEN EARTH-SIZED PLANETS, my phone buzzed again.
This time the alert was from NPR, where I make radio. Here’s a link to the NPR story based on findings published in the science journal Nature. And here’s a short video NASA posted to Twitter.
Days like today make me jealous of my newsroom colleagues. While I’m on my day off, avoiding house work and trying to figure out how to start a silly post about my beard, they get to wrap themselves in the sort of story that has eager space nerds gushing.