Here’s a crunchy, head-nodder for you.

Fresh direct from the Goddess at Smitten Kitchen: Apple Pie cookies.

Dag, where have you been my whole life?

By Andres Franquin.

This picture is from a Gaston Lafaffe comic strip. Gaston was like the Dude from “The Big Lebowski,” a professional goldbricker. He was an early hero of mine. Here, Gaston’s co-workers find him in a cave of paperwork. When I was little I used to think this was the ideal fantasy–safe, content, and protected from the world.

One of the best parts of my day is the short walk to my younger son’s daycare each morning. One of the worst parts of my day is when their front door closes with him on the other side.

I walk with the happiest, chattiest kid on Broadway. But as soon as we enter his classroom, his smile flatlines. He clams up and gently clings my leg.

He’s past the point of fearing or disliking the place. Before I’m across the street, he’s back to his regular self, running and horsing around with his friends. But for the 45 seconds I unzip his jacket and hook it with his Yankee hat in his cubby, he’s totally blank. He doesn’t argue or fight or try to get me to stay. Passive resistance in it’s purest form.

He’s never once said goodbye to me. This morning, one of his teachers lifted him up to the small square window in the door to give him one last chance to wave or grin. He stared through me like I was a lamp post. The corners of his mouth never even flinched.

Later today I’ll hear how he had a great day and I’ll forget feeling like I broke his heart this morning and I’ll forgive myself. Again.

Curt Schilling lowers the boom on the Bosox.

Here’s Dave Kindred on Walter Payton. Good read.

Tony Dorsett was my favorite offensive football player when I was a kid. I had his jersey. My friend Matt was a Sweetness guy and had Payton’s jersey. We wore those jerseys out, man. I was really into the NFL during the 1980s and think that Walter Payton and Lawrence Taylor were the greatest football players I ever saw.

What to do on another rainy day in New York? Oh, yeah. Count down the hours ’til quittin’ time.

[Photo Credit: Cuba Gallery]

Could this be the end of the line for the Tigers? Their ace hopes to keep their season going. But I say the series ends today.

Let’s Go Base-ball!

[Photo Credit:  WLLLy Volk]

Peace to Cliff C for point out this New York City greatness.

A parent in New York has a few special responsibilities. You’ve got know how the bus routes and subway maps mesh with the best playgrounds. You’ve got to steer your kid away from the Mets. You’ve got to try to protect the downstairs neighbors from the all-hours demolition derby going on in the living room.

And you should teach them about pizza.

For my son’s fourth birthday he asked for Domino’s Pizza for dinner. I’m not quite sure how he got to this point. We have a decent pizza jernt in the neighborhood, but it’s not a paragon. And it’s a little slow.

One day when we needed pizza to arrive instantly, we called up the local Domino’s. It’s been a steady progression towards the “pizza with the sand on the bottom” from there.

I know I’ve let him down in some hardboiled fashion, but really, is being a pizza snob such a great legacy to impart? Or maybe Domino’s is a phase you have to go through in order to finally arrive at the proper level of snobbery in adulthood? I can remember in my early teens thinking that it didn’t get much better than Pizzeria Uno. And though I grew up in New Jersey, I was lucky enough to have two exemplary pizza parlors in my tiny town.

Of all the things that I thought I’d be vigiliant about as a parent, I did not anticipate any pizza problems. But now that I watch him enjoy Domino’s so thoroughly, I’m not going to try to push him in any other direction.

When he comes to me in twenty years and asks “How could you?” I’ll just show him a picture from his fourth birthday dinner and hopefully he’ll understand.

Over at Fangraphs, Mark Hulet looks at the waning Yankee dynasty:

Sabathia is a horse. The 31-year-old southpaw has pitched at least 230 innings for the past five seasons, and his highest FIP during that time was 3.54 (highest ERA was 3.37). He produced the second-highest strikeout rate (8.82 K/9) of his career in 2011 and posted his third seven-win season in the past five years. The issue with Sabathia, though, is that he can opt out of his contract this off-season and pursue a larger contract elsewhere. I find it hard to believe that he won’t be wearing pinstripes in 2012 but stranger things have happened and this remains a huge question mark that needs to be answered quickly, as it could shape the club’s entire off-season approach.

The organization has shed some young pitching talent over the past two years that it may have given up on a little too soon (Ian Kennedy, Tyler Clippard, Mark Melancon) but it wisely held onto David Robertson. Although pitchers such as Joba Chamberlain and Phil Hughes have had more hype, it could be Robertson, 26, who eventually replaces ‘Rivera The Robot’ in high-leverage situations with New York. The right-hander had one of the most dominating seasons by a reliever throughtout the Major Leagues in 2011. He posted a 1.84 FIP (1.08 ERA) in 66.2 innings and struck out batters at a rate of 13.50 K/9. He also improved his ground-ball rate almost seven percent to a career-high 46.3 GB%. One thing Robertson does need to work on is his control (4.73 BB/9). If he can continue to command his fastball-curveball combination like he did in ’11, the Yankees could have the best one-two punch in the late innings in the American League for the next few seasons.

Will C.C. leave? That’s the $64.000 question, ain’t it?

[Picture via Under Consideration]

Here’s a smile for you: watching Steve Martin and Lily Tomlin dance.

Food 52 is a regular stop for me. It’s a wonderful site that just got a face lift and is now better than ever. Drop by.

Oh, and dig this fat bastard ridiculousness: croissant french toast.

Fug me.

[Photo Credit: Jennifer Causey]

Darkness Visible.

[Photo Credit: Jimmay Bones]

The Tigers need to win today, man, if n they are gunna make a series out of this. By I think the Rangers will take it.

And tonight, the Brewers and Cards move to St. Louis.

Let’s Go Base-ball!

A few days ago I was on the uptown 1 train in the early evening a few minutes before the magic hour. We were above ground, past Dyckman, when I looked out of the window and saw the moon. The sky was blue and a plane crossed in front of the moon and the trail it left was not white but orange from the setting sun behind us.

I turned to see if I could get the attention of anybody nearby. This was too beautiful, too fleeting, to keep to myself. But I couldn’t catch anybody’s eye so I turned back. The plane was almost out of the window frame, the faded orange trail still there beneath the moon. And then it was over.

There was a time when I would have felt cheated at not being able to share the moment with someone else, even a stranger. Instead, I took a mental picture of what I saw, and savored it. And that was  enough.

[Photo Credit: Adria Canameras]

Serious Eats gives us a recipe for spicy beer mustard.

Why the hell not? Hey, I just wanted an excuse to post this damn picture.

Red Sox Wednesday continues with the news that Theo Epstein is headed to Wrigley Field.

“La Duree Poignardee,” By Rene Magritte (1938)