Sunday Sunday so good to me

Sunday morning and I've read my e-mail and sent my Sunday Funnies jokes and looked at old C-melody (almost wrote "C-moldy") saxophones on eBay. Wife and son still snoozing and so is Chuck the Cat. He's found an old typing-paper-sized box atop a plastic file container that makes a perfect bed. It was Chuck, of course, who rattled the venetian blinds at 7:15 to wake me up. "Get up!" he said. "It's time to do your cat-feeding chore!" So I did and made coffee while I was at it. Today's the big NFL playoff day, two football games puntuated by endless and endlessly repeating and excruciatingly stupid and boring commercials. If I weren't such a football addict, I'd forgo the whole thing. There's just something so American about watching huge men run at each other wearing armor and helmets. But then, men are curious creatures, eh? Never quite able to shake completely the Caveman aspect. No more curious, I suppose, than the women who seem to love that style of man, despite frequent protestations that sensitivity is key. Yes, football and cheerleaders, beer and car ads, inane talking heads explaining the obvious about football ... what could be better? Well, I don't have time to list all the answers to that question, but I'll start with a decent, healthy breakfast, something like a couple of bearclaws and milk! Then a good guilt-erasing four-mile walk and maybe an hour or so on the banjo ...