Posted by Lex, on March 17th, 2008
I hope you’re wearing the green and preparing to drink of the brown once the sun goes over the yardarm. Somewhere. Because it’s Saint Patrick’s Day precious and we are all, all of us Irish today.
Our quotidian labors being done – sufficient to the day the evils thereof – herself and your correspondent have every intention of taking the trolley into the Gaslamp this e’en for to partake of the festivities:
This year’s musical block party at Sixth and Market streets has Irish rock legends the Young Dubliners, DJ Marc Thrasher, DJ Brent Bartel, local Celtic bands, and traditional Irish dancers.
And I know what you’re asking yourself, constant reader: You’re wondering whether it might be possible to buy your humble scribe a Guinness on this most sacred day of the season.
The answer is yes. Yes of course you can.
Update: Thought for the day – “Work is the curse of the drinking class.”
By lex, on August 7th, 2011
Today I took the day off. Played golf in the morning (80 at Torrey Pines North), flew twice in the afternoon, took the Hobbit out to the cinema, then out for appetizers and adult beverages.
Back To The Index
By lex, on July 31st, 2011
No flights this weekend, so your host was free to indulge hisself, like. Played an early morning round o’ golf at MCAS Miramary, and shot an asymmetric 48/38.
Because you care to know.
This has become something of a habit with me of late, fierce struggles on the front nine followed by relatively smooth sailing on the back. It’s a mystery.
By lex, on September 6th, 2010
The perspicacious reader will have noted that apart from one (quite nice, I thought) post yesterday, your humble scribe has been celebrating Labor Day weekend by mostly staying off the net. Sure, there was a Citabria flight on Friday, like there normally is. No, there were no dogfights to be had this weekend, leaving us sadly short of Indian software engineers burbling and gasping in the trunk. Which gave us the opportunity, Saturday, Sunday and today for to whack the wee white ba’ around the Elysian fields of MCAS Miramar’s golf course. Which, although for the most of you, that’s as much golf blogging as you’d like to read, your host will point out that while familiarity may indeed breed contempt, in my case it bred absurdity: I shot an 81 on Saturday, an 82 Sunday and a merciless 96 today on account of a vicious case of the shanks that appeared from nowhere on the fifth hole and which could not be tamed until the 17th, not if it were ever so and it’s been ten year at least since I’ve broken 90 in the wrong direction.
By lex, on August 14th, 2010
Which, hizzoner being singularly uninspired this morning, he has decided to locate hisself upon the greenswards of the MCAS Miramar golf course, for to see if his tricky knee will hold up to the strain, like. The good folks down at Balboa Naval Hospital having informed him that the earliest date on which a qualified orthopedic physician may attend to his complaints is the 14th of October, the year of our Lord 2010. And it’s a pity about them loose bone fragments, but what did you expect, falling off a motorcycle like that 17 years ago?
Which I was pushed.
By lex, on August 15th, 2008
The City of Coronado is notoriously sensitive to siren song of naval aviation. So much so that many retired pooh-bahs have the noise complaint hotline on their speed dial. S-3s got to live and play there over the years because their high bypass fan engines frankly don’t make much noise, and what noise they do make can be easily mistaken for a vacuum cleaner. Likewise helicopters don’t make much noise, so long as they’re not clattering over your stucco tiles – and the local course rules ensure that those stationed at North Island won’t.