Make up shorts

So, I ask my students to write blogs, and then I neglect my own because I am so busy with theirs (among other things). The irony is...well, ironic. Short comments: I'm very glad the Mets lost, and I'm glad Billy Wagner looked bad and Carlos Beltran flopped when it counted. That may make me a bad person. So what. Wagner is another in a long line of Phillie's traitors (Scott Rolen, too, is looking less like Captain America than he did a few seasons ago when he needed to go to another team); Beltran is so over-hyped it is ludicrous. He's about a .272 hitter with a bit of power (but only from the left side!) and an above-average fielder. He's the kind of player that can be a key part of a winning team, but as a superstar he falls far short. But since he's in New York... blah blah. Anyway, you could hear the disappointment in the voices of Fox's announcers when Molina hit that 9th inning home run--the whole playoff run was covered from a Met perspective in the National League, what with all the get-to-know-him cute little segments and the constant lauding of Reyes and Wright and Delgado. God, I'm a bitter, bitter man. Anyway, glorious Fall is here. I miss the Delaware Canal tow path most desperately now, but I haven't had much time to enjoy the outdoors, so I suppose it doesn't matter much. Right now, the turkey buzzards and red-tailed hawks and goshawks are circling those high rocky cliffs of the Narrows along the river and Rte. 32 between Kintnersville and Upper Black Eddy, those woolly caterpillars are all over the place, and leaves are abandoning their posts in the oak woodlands and in the trees that were spared from all the flooding of the past two years. Celtic Classic was another success, with amazing performances from Lunasa and, of course, the Tannahill Weavers. Nate and Elizabeth and Liz and the luminous Colleen joined me for parts. I had forgotten that Kevin Crawford played flute for Lunasa, so I ended up seeing one of my favorite musicians and finding a new band to really get behind. I allowed myself to buy one CD, as I usually do, and picked Lunasa's The Kinnitty Sessions, which is killer (as we said back in the 90s). The Tannies were as fun as ever, and Colleen found herself getting swept up in the fun. Also, Erin and Brian made it to that show, too; and I got to see some old friends in Chris and Michael, and Doc Wingard. My Irish music enthusiasm--never totally gone, but often in abeyance for large periods of time--has really taken hold since the festival. I don't listen to much else, and I'm currently contemplating spending almost $50 on two CDs from an importer that I haven't found in the US any other way. I still daydream of taking up the wooden flute, but should probably just concentrate on the cheaper and relatively easier boudhran (to learn, not to master--no nasty comments from boudhran players, please). Football season is in full swing, along with fantasy football season. My teams are underperforming, as ever. Go PSU. Go Ragin Cajuns. Go Moravian. Go Lehigh. Go Warriors of Wilson High. Go Hawks (or Bubba, anyway). Tonight is a trip to Reading--my second in as many weeks--for Frog Holler and a little outlet shopping. Woo hoo. Last week was the Rogers siblings' annual Halloween outing, this year a return to Shocktoberfest. I wasn't very shocked--time for a new one. Again, Dear Diary, I'll try to be true to you. But I've got all this work, and it's apple dumpling season, and it's nice outside, and...