Rest in peace, Steve.
Um... apart from waking up to that sad news, I'm in a better mood today. I had a nice visit with Andy and Laura (and Peyton and Mackenzie and Lady and Jake and Frankie and Mama and the rabbit and the kittens) yesterday, and on the ride home, just did some random stuff to try to shake myself of the funk I'd found myself in.
So I stopped off at the Frank Lloyd Wright house. To which you say, "huh???"
I always see the sign for the thing, anytime I'm down by Mount Vernon, so I finally pulled in to see the place and, yes, check it off my list.
The Pope-Leighey House, for which admission is required, is a strangely unimpressive home that Wright designed as an example "of houses designed for people of modest means." I thought it would be this big hoo-hah, with waterfalls and glass and angles and stunning this-that-and-the-other.
I chose not to go in. I wasn't going to pay to listen to a lecture about what looked to be little more than a log cabin.
Oh, well. At least I went.
From there, I went to Old Town for this first time in months. And rather than hitting the usual haunts, I instead drifted from gallery to gallery, boutique to boutique... places I'd never bothered to wander into before.
And I loved every second of it. It was so "not my thing" to do-- flower shops? antique stores? really???-- that it was great.
And being outside, walking about for a few hours... my mood improved dramatically.
I went into one of my favorite Old Town shops towards the end, bought some incense for the first time in my life (so not a big deal, I know), and found myself much calmer by the time I got home.
Watched Inside Man last night. Not as bad as Jeff had suggested it might be, not as solid as it should have been.
Still, it was much better than watching Andre cry again.
Ryan Howard: kinda good.
A final Phillies note: when you see this sub-heading in an article... it simply can't be a good thing.