Take me out to the (chuckle) ball game

Can there be anything more comic than a bunch of 5-year-old Little Leaguers playing their first game? I think not. Hard to decide what my favorite moment was during yesterday evening's game. Maybe it was when my grandson somehow crossed home plate after the guy who batted him in. Or mayb e it was the guy who, instead of cathcing the ball, ran from it. But this is how our future baseball stars start their careers. So carry on, boys and girls.

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I haven't yet reported on my wristwatch collection, which must number 200 timepieces, most of them worthless. I just can't stop collecting things, which would explain the Elvis LPs in gold, blue, green, and red vinyl.

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One of my geezer-class professors has l-o-n-g sideburns, a la Steve McGarrett on the old "Hawaii Five-O" TV series. So I spend much of the class imagining a razor floating through the air and then shaving off those sideburns.

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Ah, the golden years: floaters in the eyes, ringing in the ears, a shortage of synapses, and more prescriptions than Elvis and Heath Ledger combined.

In the warm California sun

Sitting in the ballpark stands on a sunny California afternoon with a cup of beer in one hand and a hot dog in the other, then seeing the Red Sox finally win a game that you attend -- it doesn't get a whole lot better than that.

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I like cats. They're evil.

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Answer to Thursday's brain teaser: According to the website word-english, the second most commonly used word in the English language is "of." For the full list, visit www.world-english.org/english500.htm. But hurry back because we'll have another puzzlement soon.

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I wonder what is the worst part of flying coach. Maybe it's when the passenger in front of you puts his seat in full recline, forcing your knees up to your chin. Or maybe it's when the guy in the seat next to you slops his elbow into your space. No, wait, I know: It's the smug looks on the first-class passengers' faces as you make your way past them en route to your little slice of hell.

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Because I don't always talk a lot, some people think I'm deep. Believe me, there is less to me than meets they eye.

Root, root, root for the away team

Can it be anything but a good omen when the Boston Red Sox win the season opener? Aha, but my older son and I will take care of that auspicious beginning this weekend when we head to Anaheim, Calif., for our annual trip to a Sox away game. Over the past few years, we have seen the Crimson Hose play in Toronto, Detroit, Minneapolis, and Chicago -- and they have lost in every city. We call ourselves The New Curse or, alternatively, The Two Bambinos. Nonetheless, we always have a great time, and this year it may even be greater because my younger son is also going. He cares nothing for baseball but does love Disneyland. So, win or lose, things should be grand. After all, we are staying at a Super 8.

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While at Disneyland, I plan to launch an investigation into why Donald Duck no longer gets respect.

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Here's the answer to Tuesday's brain teaser: The only word on the front of an iPod (Classic or Nano) is "Menu." No fair if you peeked. (And speaking of devices, I love my iPod Touch more than life itself.)

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I have made my first 90 cents blogging. I am so proud! (Come on, folks, and click on those little ads to push the earnings past a buck.)

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The two dumbest things I ever did on the Internet (besides starting this blog) were reserving a rental car in Charlotte, N.C., when I was actually heading for Charleston, S.C., and negotiating with a car dealer I thought was located in Lynnfield, Mass., but was actually in Burlington, Vt., some 220 miles from my home.