Granted, it’s tough to gain an audience when you disappear as a writer for two weeks. So I’m sorry. You’ll have to make do with my pithy asides on Twitter.
Rest assured, I’ll be back soon. No, I’m not out indefinitely like Bob Sanders or Dallas Clark. (Iowa alumnus Pat Angerer may want to hide under the bed.)
I’m struggling with the loss of a pet, and also wrestling with some other things. It’s safe to say I wouldn’t I do not wish the turmoil, torment and heartache of a missing pet on anyone. Not even Tedy Bruschi. It is too much to bear. My last two weeks have been a roller-coaster ride of emotion. In a trance, I keep seeing Sophie paw at the pet door early Wednesday morning to go out – and wondering why I let her leave. I usually choke up, swallow, and realize that it’s because she always came back.
As a part-time blogger, when life takes over, I have to take a break. That’s my life. It’s not fair, it’s not right, it just is. But I’ll be back soon, hopefully after the bye week. And I’ll plan to cover the Colts’ mountain of injuries (Sanders, Clark, Brackett, Bullitt, Brown, Addai, who’s next?) along with their prospects for the rest of the season.
In case you needed my opinion on anything else:
(1) Yes, I think football will cease to exist in 50 years.
(2) I think the Colts can continue to thrive with Mike Hart as primary running back, if necessary. I’ve always liked him.
(3) Anthony Gonzalez and Donald Brown, however, were wasted draft picks.
(4) I completely endorse the Cubs’ hire of Mike Quade.
(5) Finales for Rubicon and Mad Men were both good; if you don’t care for the direction of the story, well, you can always write your own TV show. Which will suck.
(6) Please do me a solid and read, vociferously, Steven Hyden‘s revisit of Alternative Nation and the 1990s. This week’s essay on Axl Rose, Kurt Cobain, and the halcyon music year of 1991 blew me away. And I’ve spent nearly two decades obsessing about the music of 1991-1994. (Read the blog title, silly. I’m a stardog, baby. I ain’t gonna let you down.)
(7) Who knew? Maligned during early reviews of Backspacer, and forgettable upon first record listen, Speed of Sound turned out to be my favorite song on Pearl Jam‘s latest. For me, it’s apropos right now, and the acoustic version is a stunner. In fact, as I slowly emerge from my shell, take a listen. Back soon. I miss you, Sophie.
Postscript: Sophie returned after midnight on October 21. Unbelievable. October 21, also, is my Dad’s birthday. I don’t normally go all karma or religious or nutty or anything in this space; but that’s quite a coincidence.
Got a little dusty in the Faded-Glory household, as you might expect. Welcome home, Sophie.