They said it was gunna rain but it never did. Instead the sun was out and it was a lovely, crisp spring day. Still a little chilly but the buds are on the trees. Some trees are already in bloom. So Emily and I had lunch at a cute Belgian spot in Manhattan and then walked over to one of her favorite places--the Container Store. Once we got there, I kept telling her, "You can't stop us, you can only hope to contain us." Then, I'd crack up. She rolled her eyes. Em calls me her Jack Tripper (Three's Company is one of those shows that was one of her friends, that kept her great company when she was a kid). Then I waited for her to set me up with a straight line so that I could say, "That's what she said," my other favorite cornball expression of the moment. That's a line I can't say enough. It always cracks me up. Em puts up with me and groans more often then she laughs.

Emily isn't exactly straight-laced but she is formal and dignified in public places. She is mortified if I talk too loudly, nevermind if I pull the old' knock-the-merchandise-off-the-shelf-for-laffs bit. Her eyes start to bulge and she speaks in short bursts trying to whisper, "Alex, No, what are you doing, don't--Hey, I'm serious." Today, I went to a shelf stacked with tiny little white ring boxes and started knocking them over. I picked them up and when I went to put them back I knocked more over on purpose. I had her going for a couple of rounds of that.

I like tooling around town with my wife, we have a lot of laughs. She's a country girl at heart who doesn't have the nature for city-living. The crowds, the traffic, the fast pace. It's not her. But when we are out together she can relax because I make her feel safe. I know where we are going and I am always watching out over her. I make sure to walk on her outside, so that I'm closest to the street. I keep an eye out on the subway car as she closes her eyes and rests her head on my shoulder. It makes me feel good to have her back and create that sense of security for her. Nice to feel like the man and to know your woman wants you to be the man.

After the Container Store, we were standing in the sun on 6th Avenue waiting for the light to turn. A Good Humor Truck was parked a few feet away, a hot dog stand next to it on the curb. A gray-haired woman wearing a black overcoat held a chocolate dipped cone in her hand. I made a yummy sound as we waited for the light. She walked towards us; the light changed, and we crossed the street with her. "Boy, do you look happy," I said. She smiled, a look of simple but deep happiness on her face. "Well, it's my first of the year."

You've got to love the seasons. Speaking of which, the flu season is still hanging over the Yanks who lost again to the Rays today, this time, 6-3. Joe Girardi missed another game, Andy Pettitte wasn't great ("I just didn't have anything today, man"), Jason Giambi hurt himself, and oh yeah, the offense came up short again. A waste of a perfectly beautiful day. I'm not sorry we missed it. Anthony McCaron and Pete Abraham kept entertaining tabs on the game.

Tomorrow, the bats will bring the rukus.