The Sweet Spot

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Bats:

There is an end, there is a beginning and then, there is a sweet spot.

It’s not even in the middle.  If you take a wooden bat, stare at it and wonder why it is so strong and weak at the same time, you must analyze it as though it were a patient.  Where  do we start?  What portion of this bat is the strongest?  What part of this is the weakest?  If you really look at the bat, the heart of the bat is the strongest.  It sets comfortably in the ever so soft middle where no one except the ball can find it.

The brain rests on top of the bat as though it is a skyscraper, but it can crumble just as easily as a sand castle on any North Continental beach.  Shards of bat shrapnel will fly out to fielders when you wish no harm to any of them, but sadly, it comes with the territory.

The bottom of the bat is cruel. Your hands, knees and feet ache because they are confused since it should be such an easy science.  It’s not.  It breaks your knuckles when swinging too fast or too slow, especially in cold weather.  Nothing works except the heart of the bat….  that’s the sweet spot.

The sweet spot is when a ball comes off the bat and you can’t feel a thing but success, happiness and pure love, because you only feel it in your heart.  Run your fingers through whipped cream and see if it hurts.  It doesn’t.   I don’t know of a man who can say it does, but that’s the only way I can describe the feeling of when you hit a ball on the sweet spot.

When all other organs aren’t performing properly, you rely on the heart of the bat and find comfort in its rhythm.  You recognize why you don’t always have to swing like a wild man.  Sit down.  Think.  Relax.  Breathe.  But most importantly, rely on your heart for guidance.  The brain is overrated.  So are the legs.  The best part of a bat and an artichoke is the heart.

 

 

 

 

Antstone

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Tombstone is a memorable movie.  Historically speaking, it is a terrific story, but there were some parts which did not make it Oscar Narcissistic worthy.  Because of my family’s current dilemma, I have been experiencing scenes lately that only Wyatt Earp and my friend Jon would appreciate.  I don’t have to kill cowboys, but I do have to kill ants. My wife and I hate killing anything, but we have ourselves here a natural ant infestation catastrophe.

In the last few years, because of my wife’s compassion, I have saved many spiders from instant demise.  She wishes everything to live in peace, even though they may kill us while we sleep.  I convinced her in rather dramatic fashion that ants should be an exception to our rule of not killing anything.  These ants taking over our house wear red sashes, much like the “cowboys” in Tombstone.  That’s where you could recognize the good dudes from the bad dudes in the movie.  Stealing cat food, dog food, dancing around the pantry like gremlins eating saltine crackers, I had to put a stop to the ant madness.  That’s when I told her the news.  “Britt, any ant I see wearing a red sash,  I am going to kill it, and tell that queen ant that HELL IS COMING WITH ME!!!!”

I carry a holster full of bug spray and a thumb.  They are my weapons of pest destruction.  The thumb is for the quick kills and the spray is to send them a message the exterminator we hired wasn’t able to deliver for three hundred dollars.  (He was a mangy cur I’d like to wrangle to the ground like any other marauder around this territory)

My only true companion in this God awful insect mess is our cat, also known as Cat Holliday.  He wipes out the big ants when I just don’t maintain the quickness and proper eyesight to see them in his food.  My ultimate worry though, is Cat Holliday is suffering from narcolepsy so I may have to finish this on my own.

God help us.

Tombstone No Scene

 

Cardinals at the Combine

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News Flash!

Pope the whatever resigned yesterday.  This was news to me today.  Currently, at the Vatican, similarly to the NFL, they are holding a Pope combine. One of the Cardinals recited the fastest forty Hail Maries recorded even in Biblical history.  An additional Cardinal could not properly recite “The Our Father”, and additionally, he has an online fictional girlfriend which is not illegal in the confines of the Catholic Church……just weird.  He is still considered to be a future Pope for even weirder reasons.

More on this later……….

 

 

 

Vets, Pets, and Debts

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In this modern world, I am considered an outcast.  I use words such as please, and thank you, and although many people where I currently reside don’t respond with a proper “you’re welcome”, I provide it for them.  It may occur on the street, opening a door for someone wearing a fur coat walking into a Walgreens who ignores me like a common criminal, or most recently, my lack of sophistication resting at a Veterinarian Clinic.

Yesterday, I was dealing with Comcast….pardon me, Veterinarians.  My window of opportunity to pick up an animal was hidden between nine A.M., FIVE P.M. and a place considered, according to me, bales of haystacks, “the vet clinic”.   Not minding the quoted bill at a couple hundred bucks, I made the infantile and critical mistake of thinking about the nomenclature of such a statement.  A couple makes two.  Today, I guess it means four.  Let this be a lesson to all those who are betting on anything these days.

But, that’s really not the good and bad part of the story.  When being contacted at Five or so P.M., I was there to greet our lovely cat suffering from something referred to as “old cat syndrome”.  Twenty minutes later, I requested the bill and asked if our cat could be released from his incarceration.  They complied with just a slight flaw.  Ten minutes later, they brought out leashes and belongings not belonging to our beloved family of animals, including husband and wife.  I must say that each and every day, I still have something to learn about animals, therefore, sheepishly, I asked a question to someone delivering these items.  “Aren’t these items for a dog?”  (I was fairly certain we didn’t bring our cat in on a leash.  Seems like a terrific idea, but it hasn’t worked for me in the last five years).

“Yes, she’ll be right out.”

“Ok, but there is one slight problem…….

“Oh, I’m sorry, what’s the problem?”

“Our pet is a cat and it’s a HE and we delivered him to you in a CAT SECURITY BOX.  GET THE DAMN CAT, BECAUSE I WISH TO NOT SPEND FRIDAY NIGHT AT THE VET….please.”

Our Tomcat, unfortunately named “LOLA” was a victim of his name.  I won’t blame anyone for this mistake, not even the one naming him.  The female dog’s name was Lola as well.

After all of this transpired, I felt as if I was the crazy one asking what I thought to be logical questions.  Then, I understood, they were looking at me as though I belonged, not at the clinic, but, rather, behind bars in a zoo.  I guess in this bizarre world of modern society, I don’t wish to fit in.  Please, thank you, as well as humans understanding the difference between dogs, cats and quotes seem easy to me.

You’re welcome.

 

 

 

Youth and the Essence of Quotes

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“Youth is the essence of stupidity”.   My primary reason for quoting this is because I read it this morning from a letter written long ago by one of my six older brothers.    Dubiously, he was referring to me.  Personally, I’d like to whip it around by writing, “Stupidity is the essence of youth”.  But, that’s unfair because it is his quote.  To me, that’s a twisted, yet positive take on how stupid we all can be.  It’s also referred to as brotherhood.  When you grow old enough, as well as weak enough, you can only compete with your own quotes.  They maintain a sinister value only brothers and sisters can appreciate.

I hope it was an original quote, but after years of reading and attempting to write, if it wasn’t his, I don’t care.  For personal reasons, I wish it to remain his, even if it is my own suspension of belief.  Samuel Clemens couldn’t have written it any better.

People quote others commonly.  It tends to bother me mostly because they grow from a long line of e-mails seeking a fruitless donation.  Give me Shakespeare, I’ll give you a dime.  Give me Chaucer, and I’ll give you a “Kanikal”.

Mark Twain once said, (this is my favorite quote because I will admit being dreadful at the game) “Golf is a terrific way to ruin a nice walk.”  I probably misquoted that, but  quoting something is a good way to ruin a nice piece of writing.

One step at a time.  I won’t put that in quotation marks.  I will put in my own words countering that offer of a quote.  One closet at a time.  That’s what builds a house.  It is also what allows one to let go of it.  One closet at a time.

You must proceed with that frame of mind.  Love that closet..   Otherwise, the closet, maintaining many items a family must hold with great passion and wonderful strength will be littered with regret…….unless you take it on one  closet at a time.  And then, when you look at that closet, peer deeply inside, you recognize why our lives can be so fortunate.  You clean it out, but it’s never truly empty, leaving you a stomach full of wonderful memories.    . . . And you can quote that.

 

 

 

The Super Pious Bowl

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Fact:  Church attendance at Catholic Super Bowl Sunday Mass increases by seventy percent.

Fact: Ninety percent of the congregation is only praying for their team on this holy day.

Fact: Much of the congregation arrives thirty minutes early for tailgating.

Fact: Tailgating Christians are eighty percent more likely to attend church if port-a -potties are available within the place of worship.

Fact: Those attending mass possessing front pew tickets, after receiving the blood or body of Christ (communion), arrive to their home twenty minutes earlier than the other parishioners, given that these seats ensure a speedier exit.  They are the first to receive it, and the last to think about what it actually means.

Fact: This is one of the reasons the NFL televises the game at 6:30pm eastern time.  Everyone is drunk and tired, but still willing to watch the game.

Fact:   Eleventh Commandment:  Thou Shall not covet thy neighbor’s far superior home theater system.

 

 

It may be as Weird as it Gets (KEEP PORTLAND QUIET!!!)

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Traveling abroad, meaning three pavement hours from our house, my wife and I felt as though we required a passport.  Not because of the three car pile up en route to Oregon from Seattle which added an additional three hours, but because we were entering a semi mythical land called Portland.  Not quite fitting in, we should have taken our passports.

I am a throwback from 1973.  That means I was born in 1973.  I remember the Seattle Super Sonics winning an NBA Championship in 1978, but I don’t remember the Portland Trailblazers winning the title the year before.  Portland, to me, only existed for two reasons: A couple of brothers.  One lived in a suburban house located close by in Gresham, Oregon……home of the Gophers, and the other traveled there from time to time on business tours.  Interesting, but not intriguing enough visit Portland Proper.

Watching and being entertained by a show called “Portlandia”, my wife and I felt intrigued enough to visit.  We wanted to know if it is a Real Landia.  I guess we may have felt it was like Atlantis.  So, let’s just call it Atlandia, for now.

Research allowed me to recognize this city to be a bit liberal.  Living in Seattle, I completely understand what that term means.  However, I didn’t know they had signs displaying how liberal they are before even arriving in this very fair city.   Just short of Portland, Exit 22 read, Dike Access Road.  That was our introduction.  The pictures then followed with the pudding……which was terrific.

Portland is worth a thousand pictures.  I’ll leave the last for best.  That’s Portland.

Before displaying these pictures, I must choose wisely regarding their order of importance.  This has been a dilemma for me because I am completely distracted by how goofy this city is and hopefully remains.  Let’s begin with the words and phrases, and synonyms.  “eccentric”.  “unbalanced”,  “unearthly colorful”, “odd and unusual”, “weird but has money”, “strange”.  All valid definitions.  I, personally, decided to define Portland as the way we experienced Portland.  “Charmingly Ridiculous”.  We fell in love with the ridiculous, yet charming atmosphere surrounding a city you may not believe in before leprechauns and unicorns.

Most of this blog is not about pictures.  It’s about the process.

1) Loser:  This graffiti is located on the top of a dilapidated building.  Why would one go to great lengths just to invalidate someone’s brilliant masonry?  When spray painting the white word, “LOSER”, atop a building, are they referring to themselves?  Personally, I  don’t know how this person paid for or developed the scaffolding to accomplish such a deed.  You lose.

2) If anything is really weird, stupid, or can’t sell in Portland, you just put a bird on it.  Although permanently borrowing this idea from the television show, the birds do exist on anything that won’t sell………because they’re so cute when not on your windshield.

3)  Face masks: Hockey, Mt Saint Helens and Ash.  That’s all face masks are good for.  Don’t scare the crap out of me when I merely want an innocent bacon wrapped maple doughnut from a place called “voodoo doughnuts” while waiting in a one hour line to have brunch with the devil.

 

 

4)Euro Trash:  That is indeed the name of this culinary cart.  I qualified for only reading the menu.  Accepting it as a compliment, I still was not allowed to order any trash.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5) Bone Marrow and Cedar Plank Receipts:  Literally, both were served at the SouthPark restaurant.  We were in charge of  recycling the wood.  There are no wood chippers allowed in Portland.

6) Pillows:  At the hotel, you are required to request your pillow.  They come with all shapes colors and dimensions.  Fluffy is not on the list.  Hard candy and peanut brittle is on the list.  Crispy Cream?  No means no!  You can also eat it in the morning if you aren’t willing to brush your teeth.  White is just simply not on the list.  When we asked for a special order, “the cedar plank pillow”, they became angry and told us to order room service.   This is Portland, not Sarcasmland.

7) Earplugs:  Providing earplugs at in our hotel room was not a necessary item, especially because they only provide one for unnecessary recycling purposes.  The earplug was more of a gift, much like a hotel pillow mint, merely requesting you, as said below the earplug, “Let’s keep Portland Quiet”.  This one was internally and externally funny to me.  Accidentally, I ate the earplug.  You don’t want to imagine the internal and external damage which ensued.  I couldn’t keep Portland Quiet.

The following morning, I awakened to dump trucks recycling my ear plug.  So, the only proper means of measurement when called upon in a situation such as this, I pulled out my Barney Fife badge and one phony angry bullet and screamed, ”  “KEEP PORTLAND QUIET!”  All became quiet on the Portland front…..except for my wife who was peacefully sleeping.

Whatever…..I’m skipping eight.  I’m all about throwing everything away, even if it flies haphazardly into the neighbor’s yard, but c’mon? My brother and I happily did that with the neighbors dog feces.  But, fluorescent lightbulbs in the middle of a park?  This is where it gets weird and dangerous.  Happily, I would sleep in garbage on an overnight stay at the Hilton Trash Can, but I prefer concrete, to light bulb shrapnel.

Ending our journey at a feminist bookstore, my wife was upset because I didn’t take a piss in front of it.  She’s crazy that way.  I just didn’t find it to be proper, especially since the bookstore was closed on the Sunday.  We did read this sign which can only be allowed to be read for the faithful followers of this tidy blog.

 

Genuinely enjoying the food and the personalities on this friendly tour of a bit of another dimension, we can’t wait to return.  Keep it weird, Portland, but I won’t keep it quiet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Manti and Lance (Hiding Something in Their Pants)

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Famous, and perhaps nefarious athletes, Lance Armstrong and Manti Te’O have some explaining to do.

One duping and doping us all.  The other, perhaps duped, or making dopes of us all? Doesn’t that sound like a great tandem?  Just picturing Manti and Lance riding into an Oprah Winfrey set on a tandem bicycle makes me interested in those crafty guys.  I swear those two boys are just as shifty as the ones who created Sasquatch.  We’ll all get bored with these subjects, but we’ll also become intrigued with the truth.  I guess you could make comparisons with someone loving the mystery novel genre.  Whodunit?  Well, with Lance Armstrong, we pretty much know who dun it.  That’s why Oprah is so wildly frustrated by this Manti guy stealing her lightning and PED thunder.  Ratings GaloreO, bye bye O.  Poor Oprah.  With Manti though, she has another ace in her hole.  So, let’s not feel sorry for her.  Let’s look at this case as a potential dandy “After School Television Special” for those grizzled enough to remember such masterpieces.

The setting of this made for T.V. movie begins with the terrifying world of cyberspace in general. ( Don’t worry, I’m not writing a screenplay unless I can collaborate with Mad Magazine) With this blog, when I decide to chime in, it’s a slippery and scary ride.  When I write something, I have the choice to press the publish button, or refrain because my writing was dreadful on that day or the last month.  I do, however, when publishing a blog, maintain the power of disclosing whether my writing is fact, fiction, a mixture of both or just plain silly.  But I must recognize that every time I press that button, anyone in the world can read it.  Think about a student submitting a paper to his or her teacher and making that teacher promise not to let anyone else read it, or they won’t submit it.  That’s shrewd.  For any student who may not be proud of what they’ve done, it creates a very scary world if the teacher doesn’t hold up to that bargain.  Criticism can be an ugly toenail.  You race on-line, hope to finish first, but be prepared to finish last.

It looks like this Manti character wasn’t as cautious……….but there in “lies” the mystery.  Did someone else create his girlfriend, or did HE create this fictional love?  Or, were many others involved such as Colonel Mustard, Mrs. Peacock or even Professor Plum participating as well?  Hopefully, time will tell, because we know, none of them, including Lance will tell the true story, even if he brings a bucket of  PET’s (performance enhancing tears) to Oprah’s set.

The internet is like the wilderness, my friends.  We don’t really know what or who is out there teasing us with these elaborate hoaxes.  And, they can hurt.

 

 

Shoot Me A Star

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The last time I witnessed a shooting star was thirteen seconds ago.  The first time I saw a shooting star was when I watched Jaws for the thirteenth time.  Maybe that’s why my wife and I watch that movie every Sunday while eating pancakes, eggs and bacon.

Actually, I get to see a shooting star each day.  It comes in the form of my wife, my mother, my brothers and sisters and dear friends.  Yet, when you actually wish for one, you laugh and thank the lucky stars you have so many of them.

Merry Christmas