I had to cancel yesterday’s run because I had a pretty epic headache relapse that kept me in bed until noon

And because my hair looked too nice for my ritual selfie. Thankfully the headache dissipated as quickly as it powered up and I was able to go to work and paint woodwork and swoon over Corey Booker.

But now my head feels great and my hair is a disaster (coincidence?) and it’s life-suckingly humid and I have three miles to run!

When you put on your red, white and blue Superman T-shirt and then grab some coordinating red socks that turn out to be Flash socks when you unfold them, can you truly believe it’s just a coincidence?

No, you cannot. And it’s non-coincidences like these that obligate you to unleash your ferocious superhero snarl on the world.

Rowr.

Cosmic Coincidence!

Boys in the Band takes place in April 1968. I’m in New York to see it as part of my Big Birthday Broadway Bash. AND I WAS BORN IN APRIL 1968.

#HowToTurn50 #AndSeeMattBomerWalkAroundInHisUnderpants #WhichIsSeriouslyATreat

Zoom, a deer

So you know how on CSI (if it’s even still on) seven perfectly suspicious suspects just happened to have met up with the murder victim in rapid but orderly succession — without ever accidentally running into each other, of course — right before the victim gets murdered by the last suspect the CSI team is able to find and interview? Well that’s actually not the reason I’m posting this photo; I just wanted to point out the coincidence.

So you know how on CSI (if it’s even still on) an entire crackerjack team of highly-trained-highly-experienced CSI scientists exhaustively combs through every microshred of evidence in a case and just when everyone’s about to give up and go home to get some well-deserved rest the CSI Chief (or whatever the position — and its attendant convivial nickname — is called) just happens to walk by, spot something fascinatingly suspicious in the background of a photo that’s up to that moment been too overlookably blurry to warrant any measurable attention from any of the highly-trained-highly-experienced CSI scientists, ask the lone highly-trained-highly-experienced-but-at-this-point-understandably-beleaguered token-minority CSI scientists to — and I quote — “zoom in and clean it up” — a strategy for which neither the concept nor the technology has existed until that very second (except for when variations on this revelatory plot twist have played out verbatim in every other episode ever) — which suddenly reveals a crystal-clear image of the murder itself, the murderer’s face, the murderer’s telephone number, the murderer’s license plate and the all-important position of the sun reflected in the moistly shimmering pupil of a random passer-by’s eye? Because that’s actually the reason I’m posting this photo; if you can get that token-minority CSI scientist to zoom in and clean it up, you’ll see the three gorgeous, almost regal deer I just tried to photograph in my sister’s yard:

And if you aren’t able to get that token-minority CSI scientist to zoom in and clean it up, please just enjoy this artfully darkened photograph of the dramatic uplighting on my sister’s neighbor’s tree.

Do you like the shirt I totally randomly picked to wear on this totally random day?

The color is a sunny orange-yellow that's partially eclipsed by shadowy blue-gray stripes. It's most certainly not a metaphor for anything and I certainly would never wear an abstractly themed shirt to match the events of -- again -- a totally random day, not that those things are even considerations for anything. I just like this shirt.

Also: I'm partially eclipsing the sunny orange-yellow wall behind me in this selfie. Which is just a totally random observation. Enjoy your totally random day. I know I will. Because I like the totally random shirt I'm wearing.