Tomorrow is Sunday! “Sunday, Sunday, SUNDAY at beautiful U.S. 30 drag strip!” went the manic radio commercial of my youth. David heard a similar one on Detroit radio, featuring a different drag strip. Saturday’s excitement this week (that would be today) was a continuation of the probability problem discussion with coffee drinkers and, later, with Ben Wetherbee (I asked him how the host’s knowledge of where the prize was changed the odds, and what if the host picked a door at random, revealing no car behind it—how would that make the odds any different?); a discussion on Kant and Schopenhauer with friend Big Steve; the arrival of a splendiferous (one of my father’s favorite terms) new dog bed for Sarah from friends Kathie and Amanda; and a late afternoon burst of sunshine to make Sarah’s and my homecoming even more fun than usual. Frisbee tossing and chasing! Oh, frabjus day!
Lest I give a false impression of my recreational reading, I should report that Thursday evening I was laughing so loudly and uncontrollably, weeping and choking and gasping for breath, over Bill Bryson’s THE LIFE AND TIMES OF THE THUNDERBOLT KID that David had to close a door between us to carry on his long-distance telephone conversation. I’m not always wandering the corridors of philosophical speculation. In fact, tonight I’m planning to get back to that James Lee Burke murder mystery I started last week. It’s the weekend! Time for self-indulgence! Not only has a week past, but this latest month of February, longest in seven years, is over! Can spring be far behind?
2 comments:
Growing up in Western New York, it was "SUUNNday! NiAAAAGara!" I wonder if it was the same voice for all those dragstrips.
Can't you just see the guy's resume? A list of all the dragstrips he hawked for around the whole country!
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