DADDY'S LUCKY: "What did you do at school today?"

This is my typical query for kindergartener C.J. when I arrive at home each night. Mostly I get murky little answers, aimed at putting me off the scent: "Nothing." "We just played." "I can't remember."

The other night he turned the tables on me.

"Daddy, what did you do at work today?"

"Uh..."

"Daddy, tell me what you did."

"Okay...I did a lot of work."

"Daddy!"

"Uh...well...I talked to ESPN for a while, the sports TV station. Then I talked to Nintendo for a while, the folks that make your Wii. Then I got a call from NBC, the TV station that me and Mommy like to watch sometimes. And then when I was getting ready to leave I talked to a college guy who wants me to come there and give a talk to some people."

"Did you have fun, Daddy?"

A great question. And as I sat there and contemplated the contents of my day, I was pretty proud of the answer I was able to give him.

"I really did," I said. "Daddy's lucky."

GO CUBS GO: I'm pretty excited my Cubs are in the playoffs. Still, I think I better take it down a notch.

I'm staying at a smallish lodge in the middle of nowhere, and after Big Z just struck out Tony Clark to end the first inning I heard myself yell, "Now go sit down, fucker!"

It was involuntary, and it was loud.

I'm fearful of what might happen in a close game, late. It's already 10:25PM here.

POKE-NOSE: I have a neighbor, an older guy, who doesn't get out much. He's not in very good health. Once a week or so, if he's able, he makes a constitutional around the block. Over the years, we've built up a fun relationship, swapping a kind word or two when our paths cross. He likes me, and I like him, although our life experiences are quite different. He thinks my old Mercedes is a "Rolls Royce," and I don't correct him. He seems to like to think I'm a big deal.

"You off on another trip?" he asked this morning.

"I am," I say. "The Poconos."

"The who?"

"The Poconos. Mountains in Pennsylvania. A resort."

"Uh huh," he says, smiling. "Poke-nose!"

"There's a conference there," I tell him. "I'm speaking."

"They got good pizza there," he says, not asking. "In the Poke-nose."

"They do?" I ask.

"Oh, yeah," he says, his eyes narrowing as he imagines it. "You'll see."

"I'll try it," I tell him. "Thanks."

"Okay, then," he says, smiling. "You try it."

FLIPPING: There's supposedly hell construction starting today on my usual route to work, so I took the train out this morning. I got to the platform kind of early, and so I had to watch quite a few trains pass by on their way downtown.

Me on a bench. Trains passing on the other side. Tons of human cattle wedged inside, staring out.

And I had the overpowering urge to flip the bird to all the passers-by. It wasn't an "f you" bird, really. I wasn't mad at them, felt no malice, etc. It just seemed really funny to me. What could they do but sit there and take it? And frankly, if I was them I'd think it was funny, too. Just some dumb guy on a bench mass-birding all these people...

Reminds me of when I used to have to go to church, way back, and when the service would start to drone on -- like five minutes in -- I was always struck by the powerful desire to stand up and walk across the top of the pews to the front of the church. I never knew what I would do when I got there, but I always wanted to just do that, to balance my way through the folks across the tops of the benches...

Also reminds me of sitting in class, going stir-crazy, and working like hell to come up with some kind of subversive thing to do, like when me and my crowd used to make these little noises in our throats without moving our mouths at all, and we'd alternate doing it, looking straight ahead. Or when I was on a conference call the other day and I started pawing at the glass outside my office, trying to amuse my colleague but really just going nutso in my head at feeling so confined and slowed down...