Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

I did a little light blog-keeping. "A little to the left..." as the nameplate didn't quite fit, despite the multiple connotations that reflect what I see, hear or live.

Plus, it was pretty much forcing me to make regular political commentary or something of the "L"-word flavor (which for me, in between presidential races, is more of a pleasure-filled reactionary thing to polar extremists who throw down the gauntlet at parties or related forums). But ever since Sept. '02, when me and the wife (to be) closed escrow on the primary residence at 1280, evenings and weekends prompted -- mostly during the commute home -- a checklist of:

• Which home improvement project -- kitchen, bath, basement, landscape, general interior/exterior, yackety-schmackety -- am I working on (or need to research/get up to speed on);
• Which rental property (mine more-so than the wife's) needs attention;
• What upgrade/restoration task can I provide "Jul-e-us di Arancia" (my orange Westy); and finally,
• Which unlisted or implied garden variety project/chore that scores points with the wife is being added to the list. Thankfully, there's the "Other" check-box at the bottom with my perpetual write in-option (when checked): "Oh, F---...just keep driving." (Suffice it to say, there was a lot of driving '05-'06.)

Likewise, since the birth of my beloved Nicolas (we prefer the southern European spelling) in Dec. '04, seeking out philosophical battles has been shelved in favor of developing his life's skill set. I'm currently choosing a path that gets him in the NY Mets bullpen as the league's premier left-handed closer by 2031. I mean, the money they make for the time they put in! Say 85 innings pitched (on a busy year) out of a possible 1,458 innings (162 games at 9 innings apiece), with a half of an 8th and/or 9th inning running maybe 4 minutes each, and being paid $10.5 million (the '07 salary for each premier Yankee and Met closer). All tallied, that's roughly $1.6 million per hour of work (6.4 hrs. @ $10.5 mil) per year. And that's not even adjusted for inflation -- considering Reggie Jackson's $3+ million 5-year contract was regarded as stratospheric back in '77. (BTW, that "Bronx is Burning" program on ESPN rocks, even though I'm a Met.)

If Nic (since his name has no "k", neither should his truncated handle) is graced as such, all I want the boy to do for my part is to pay my outstanding mortgages and credit card balances. Which, with Nic at age 27 (when his value as a free agent is at prime) , puts us at year 2031-- and at current levels and no future refis -- the wife's house as paid off (luck, pure luck), about $26K left on my rental, about $15K left on the primary home. I'll lobby for some earnest money to get a 3-car garage built so I can finally get shelter for my vehicle(s) at $15K. So on the high end, we're talking $56K. With his income earning potential , adjusted for 5% inflation, at $12.1 million, the $56K bone he throws me is a mere bag of shells.

I know, Schwab-sters, $56K is a pretty poor ROI for the time I spend rearing a baseball thoroughbred, but as they say, parenting is a noble cause. And such perks as the free tickets to see him play would up my quality of life index more than would a few hundred thousand more.

And maybe, by '31, I would have freed up some time to re-devote to needling the extremists on their twisted philosophies. If they're still out there. (Enlightenment is always possible.)

Long story short: for now, the real focus of this regular column (I really don't like the word "blog"; it's like calling my cousin Jennifer "Nifer") is on the homes and the 5w's of their ever-changing components or occupants. And with their respective addresses as 978, 805 and 1280, and with my penchant for wordplay and pop culture, we arrive at this column's nameplate.