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They call it your day off

I did sleep in, but I’ve attended to the cat litter, cut the grass and started on four loads of laundry, with ironing, and tried to goad the Calvert Street staff into posting the word of the week that I filed five days ago (Grrrrr). The trip to the hardware store and the trip to the grocery remain.

If I can get through all that by 5:30—and even if I don’t—I plan a trip to the Hamilton Tavern for a restorative pint or two and their pork belly banh mi. It is an extraordinary sandwich; you first get the rich taste of the pork, then the cilantro (yeah, yeah, I know half of you think it tastes like soap and despise it), and then the heat comes up behind it. It’s a three-stage sandwich, and I have come to like it even better than their Crosstown Burger, one of the finest burgers in Baltimore.

In the evening, class prep for tormenting the undergraduates tomorrow. I have threatened them with a grammar quiz and must maintain my credibility.

A reminder: This is International Talk Like a Pirate Day. Those rhotic rogues say “Arrrrr.” “Arrrgh” is a cry of agony or despair. I should not have to keep reminding you of this.

Bogus distinctions: I have leapt a high hurdle to become a Finalist in’s contest for Best Grammar Blog of 2011! That means I got five votes. Even for a journalist, in a profession that hands out certificates, plaques, and trophies the way civilians hand out Halloween candy, this seems a bit much.

I don’t begrudge the eventual winners whatever distinction this competition affords, but I am comfortable about sitting this one out.



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