Left to my own devices

The St. Louis Blues are playing the Boston Bruins in the Stanley Cup Final. In the world of hockey, it's a pretty big deal. It's their World Series, so whoever wins the best-of-7 games is pretty much the NHL champion for the 2018-19 season. At least, that's as much as yours truly can glean from things, given that I'm not all that into sports. I root for the Illini teams by virtue of where I was born. The St. Louis Cardinals are a family tradition on my mom's side. And the Blues (and hockey) were introduced by way of someone who means a lot to me, so that explains why I like those teams. Why all this talk about sports in general, and the St. Louis Blues in particular? It's because much has been made of how this could potentially be the Blues' first Stanley Cup win in their fifty-two year history. And they last played for the Cup some forty-nine years ago, so what's happening this week is bit of a rare occurrence ( kind of like when the Cubs actual...

Someone crying has always been hard for me to take. Only in the most extreme circumstances -- when I suspect the tears of being faked, or that the person is deserving of them -- has my reaction been anything but icy toward the person bearing the tears. In fact, the presence of a crying person has often snapped me out of any foul mood I may have borne toward them (or the situation). Whether or not this is a proper reaction to such events is debatable, nevertheless it is my observed response. This occurred just a few days ago, in fact.