O Pato Joao Gilberto & Stan Getz

      A graceful duck gracefully ducking 
                      through the weeds

Meet the Mets

My sister & niece show that what they may lack in polish they more than make up for with chutzpah.

Go Cats Go

A white stretch limo pulled up to the curb in front of the Motel Arizona on a recent Thursday night. Curious, I watched to see if the driver would open the door for the passengers. To my surprise, the driver headed straight into the lobby after he exited the sleek, white Caddy. A short, black man walked in and approached the counter at which I was trying to get caught up on my registration forms. Two thoughts arose in my mind as he opened his mouth to speak.
The smell of alcohol filled the space between him and me, leading to the first thought, “This dude is drunk!”  The sound of his voice sparked the second thought, “Hey, that’s Cleveland, from Family Guy!”  When I looked at him again, after hearing him speak, I noticed that he looked like a diminutive Cleveland  Able to control my laughter I proceeded to check him into a room,  During the check in I learned, without really trying, that he had just bought his ostentatious ride in California & was heading back to Texas.  With each word he uttered the similarity to Cleveland increased.
Another man walked into the lobby during Cleveland’s registration, a tall, elegantly dressed black man with touches of white sprinkled in his temples.  His eyes sparkled with humor as he made a mildly derisive comment to Cleveland before quickly explaining, “I’m just funnin’ with you brother” in a deep baritone voice followed by laughter that obviously came from the same vocal chords that produced the resonant voice.
During his registration the tall guest with the deep voice asked for directions to the U of A, explaining that he’d come to town to watch his son, who plays basketball for Cal Berkeley.
I let him know that I’m an avid Wildcats’ fan and told him “I mean this in the most respectful way possible, I hope your son’s team loses.” That led to some good natured trash talking during which he “predicted” that his son would make a 3 pointer that would win the game for his team.  Then he turned to a woman who had entered the lobby as I was finishing his registration and said “You’re gonna see a grown man cry” as he pointed at me.  I looked at his form and made a mental note of his name because I had set my computer to record the broadcast of the game and I wanted to see if the kid was as good as the old man made him out to be
It was nearly midnight when I got home and Fox Sports’ rebroadcast of the game was in the final minute or so and the Cats were up by three when I turned my TV on.  The kid got the ball near the three point line & was about to take a shot when a Wildcat fouled him, in three point territory  I thought about the jovial guest as I watched his son at the free throw line.  He had to make all three free throws to tie the game and possibly send it into overtime.  Bounce, bounce, shoot, the first free throw was good.  Bounce, bounce, miss.
Even though he made the next attempt, the kid left the score in the Cats’ favor & that’s how it ended, Cats won by one.  The guest had checked out long before my next shift started so I didn’t have the opportunity to see a grown man weep over a child’s game.