Having finished most of my Christmas shopping for family and friends, I bought a little something for myself today. A round-trip plane ticket to Mark McLemore's hometown of San Diego. Last Spring, Jill, a close friend from college, moved to the West Coast with her fiance, who's pretty cool himself. All that I ever hear about San Diego is how unbelievably nice it is, particularly the weather. So now I had a gift-wrapped excuse to take a trip out there, no small feat for someone who'd never traveled farther west than Youngstown, Ohio. So I talked about visiting from time to time, but mostly as a murky promise of something to come at some undetermined date in the future.
Then, winter came.
I may have mentioned in the past that I am, and always have been, a summer person. I am grouchily intolerant of bitter cold weather and skies that darken before five P.M. Plus, there's the lack of baseball. So when I found myself shivering on the train platform on a recent weekday morning, waiting for a tedious day of work while a nasty frigid wind blasted me in the face, I thought: "The hell with this. I'm going to San Diego." I don't see why not. You never know what the future will bring, so I'm going to jump at the chance while I have the time and the funds. That means that you should be on the lookout for another installment of "This Day in Orioles History when President's Day weekend rolls around in February. It seems like an ideal time to get out of Maryland, as winter on the East Coast generally saves its worst for last and summer vacations will still be several months away.
If I run into Mark McLemore, I'll tell him that you said hello.