Idols, Sven, the Weather and the Dog

And so the new season of American Idol has begun with the usual awful auditions, hot young girls…some of whom can sing…not that anybody cares…and the rare surprises.

Why do I watch it?

As my wife says, sometimes, when you know nobody’s going to die, it’s kind of fun watching a train wreck.

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My wife and I disagree over Sven, the tall Swedish organizer-fellow that helps that commercial family deal with all their obligations. She says he wouldn’t last a minute in our house; she’d kill him when he first woke her up with all that ENERGY.

Me? I just want a free sweater.

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The snow fell on Metro Atlanta this evening. I drove home through it, with rather more care than usual. The snow, sticking to the road surface, made it kind of difficult to see the edge of the road in places. It had a heavy, silent beauty.

Okay, no more cliches about falling snow.

I made a point of not going by the grocery store for the traditional bread-and-milk grab. We had milk, we had bread…we had pasta. Joy made spaghetti for supper. I had driven home hoping she was making spaghetti for supper.

What a marvelous woman!

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Chloe the dog wasn’t fazed a bit by the snowfall. Only three years old, I don’t think she’d ever seen it before. Her genes make her hardy, I guess; half poodle, half retriever, she shrugs off wet cold pretty easily. It also apparently makes her a little stir-crazy. She can really bark, and in our house, the sound can drill right through your head like a ten-penny nail.

Fortunately, I don’t own a gun.

Blog envy.

My friends are doing it, so what the hell. I figure I’ll write maybe one page worth, and then I’ll have it out of my system.

What will become of this manifestation of my latent megalomania? Nothing much. I won’t be releasing it to anyone, or if I do, very few. I am a modest man, as Churchill once said of a fellow parliamentarian, with a great deal to feel modest about.

I make no promises. This weblog will be at times sententious, overlong, and pompous in the extreme. But, if nothing else, it will allow me to see myself for what I am. Which is rare enough; I usually only see my own delusion of myself: capable, noble, effective, worthwhile. What any reader will see is something less complimentary, I’m sure.

But enough. This is a start. Clupeiforum has begun. Hopefully the smell won’t get too bad once the fish start to rot.