The first beach day of the year, even though the water was colder than a yankee player at a World Champions banquet in December. Still, always a good feeling to walk along the really sharp rocks and scalding sand barefoot. Reb Dog came down to the beach, and I was happy to find out she was down with foot torture, too. It's just fun. Add to that a Red Sox win, with another key hit by my brother David, and a yankee loss. After the Twins took a 9-3 lead in the eighth, Sterling said, "Good night, Gracie." Indeed. Which reminds me, another thing from yesterday that pissed me off was when the yanks had come back to tie the game at three late, and Sterling said, "The yanks were dead in the water at 3-0 in the fifth." Yeah, no $200 million team has ever come back from a three run deficit with five innings left to play.

I finally got all my crapptiy crap out of my sister's attic, as her house is in it's final days in her hands, before being sold to a Red Sox fan dude and his family, who I met the other day. Now half of my crap is New Haven, (where the above-mentioned beach is) in my parents' attic. The other half will be crammed into my apartment here in NYC. It seems to be 75 degrees out now, past midnight. Which in the city feels like 95. But I like it. I like my feet bloody and my t-shirt drenched.