Friday Night with Otis

It's been a while since Otis has been to the Garden. I think it's a sort of winter-blues type problem. But today Otis and I did not work. Well, that is, we did not go to our job to work. The duty of the day was painting a bathroom. Just one more thing to try to improve this god-forsaken house.

There are quite a few new things going on in our lives. Just in the past eight days I learned that I will be a father to a little girl, I got a new computer and a new car. The daughter thing is wonderful and I needed a new computer so I can better update the baby blog. The car was out of necessity - it would be rather difficult to fit the baby seat in the back of the Spyder. Don't worry, I didn't cave in and buy a mini-van. Just traded in the one Mitsubishi for another. Screw buying american, the Japanese build better cars.



Throughout the day I had been planning on planting something in the blog and feature all of my new news. I've had the image of Gary Gnu in my head all day. If you don't remeber Gary Gnu think about this, "there's no gnews like good gnews on the Gary Gnu Show."

No one has died in our death pool yet, but it's only been one month. I would never have thought of Johnny Carson. I didn't realize he was quite as old as he was. And I always pictured him laughing and playing tennis. Ed McMahon is a whole different story. An overweight alcohlic that has pissed off one too many people on Star Search. He'll be on my list next year.

I've been thinking quite a bit about the daughter I will be raising soon. And I'm not sure which will happen first - she tells me to "fuck off" or she tells me I'm "fucked up." Either way, that will be the moment that I'm looking forward to the most. Second will be the bill to her wedding which just edged out college tuition. Actually I don't mind any of those things. I just hope she doesn't drop the F-bomb before she's five.

"May I have ten thousand marbles, please?" - Flounder, Animal House

As always, I plan to contribute more to the Garden all the time. But shit happens and sometimes I just don't quite get to it. Regardless, I enjoy the little bit that I produce and I hope you do too.

Cool Drawing

Just a picture I came across while surfing.

QUEENB 1

We pulled up in the gas station today and stopped behind a silver Dodge Durango. It wasn’t long before I noticed the license plate in front of me read ‘QUEENB 1’. I really have no problem with personalized license plates. They can be a nice personal touch to a vehicle. My father used to have the plate ‘MEAT 1’ on his Porsche. He earned his fortune as a butcher, so the plate worked for him – regardless of the insinuation. But before I could think about it too much, a kid, about 15 or so, got out of the passenger side door and walked over to the pump. The first thing I noticed about the kid was that he wore only a sweat jacket over a t-shirt. And it was snowing. As he approached the pump…

“Hey! Don’t get that all over my car!”

The ‘mother’ had opened her door and noticed that her son wasn’t quite doing something right. He had flipped the lever before putting the nozzle in the tank.

“You hear me?! You better listen to me?!”

As I sat and watched the boy hold onto the nozzle as he filled his mothers tank, well, I thought about writing about the experience. Why? I don’t know. I just feel something for the kid. In the eight minutes that I noticed him in his life, he never lifted his head once. The reality may be that he is problematic and his mother just picked him up from detention and she’s trying to give him some discipline. Yeah – that could be the answer. But I think that his mom is just a bitch who thinks she had kids just so they could do things that she doesn’t want to do. Like pump gas when it’s twenty degrees outside.

I have said before that having children is the most selfless and the most selfish act any person can make. Obviously, there are numerous sacrifices to make when raising a child. I am completely aware of the fact that in just a few months my world is going to be turned completely upside down. But on the other hand, I want my child to be the best example of everything that Chick and I can put into him or her. I want to make the kid a little ‘Chick.’ That would be perfect. But unfortunately, people take that concept to an extreme.

The best way I can end this stupid little drama is with a quote from the movie Parenthood: “…you need a license to buy a dog, to drive a car – hell, you even need a license to catch a fish. But they’ll let any butt-reaming asshole be a father.”

Or in this case, a mother.

Moist Spell

What a great word - MOIST. It nearly sounds like what it means. Not quite onomatopoeia, but really I just wanted to type that word. (Onomatopoeia not moist) (But moist is a good word too) Anyway, the reason I've been in a moist spell, as opposed to a dry spell, is that I've actually done quite a bit of writing lately. Along with writing articles for getsportsinfo.com I am now managing four different Blogs. I have found that as long as I have an outlet for some creativity (and mental excursions) that the result of the experience is irrelevant. So, I have been neglecting the Garden. It's my Garden and not even Dandelions can grow at the temperature at which I am currently living.

I hope many of the loyal viewers of this blog took the time to visit the Circling Buzzards. Again the concept may be a bit disturbing. But I have enjoyed commemorating each person on our list with creating a little biographical tribute on their birthday. And it has been quite an educational experience for me. For example, I had no idea that Stephen Hawking was not diagnosed with Motor Neuron Disease until he was 21 years old. Or that Willie McCovery went 4 for 4 in his first major league game against Hall of Fame pitcher Robin Roberts. Or that John Delorean wasn't in jail! So the death pool has made me smarter.

And on a completely different note, tonight, for the first time, Chick's pregnancy has officially disrupted my life. I've been writing a baseball article all evening and I just recently wrapped it up. I thought it would be nice to have a little drink and for some reason a Captain Morgan and Coke sounded good. Well, we're out of the Captain. That would never have happened if Chick weren't pregnant.

And speaking of Chick, I just realized that she is watching American Idol. While carrying my baby!!! I'm not one to put headphones on my wife's stomach and play the baby Beethoven but I'd like the kid to have a chance! Now he or she is either going to be really mean like that one asshole judge or coming out singing really bad and not know it.

Death Pool

After discussing the idea for the past few years, a few of us got together and finally started a death pool. It's a simple enough concept - each person in the pool drafts a team of people who they think willl die in the next year. Points are rewarded based on that person's age from 100. The person needs to be famous and he or she cannot be acquainted with the person making the pick. Simple.

For those who consider this idea to be morbid or even depressing, it must be remembered that everyone is going to die. Dying is a very important part of the life-cycle process. And most of the people who have been drafted into the death pool are either very old or very sick. Some just live extreme lives and come close to death everyday. So it's not morbid or depressing and in some ways it's an honor to be on the list. As a matter of fact I plan on doing a little tribute to each person on the list as their birthday comes around (ironic, isn't it?)

If you would like to see the lists, we have created a blog to keep track of our game: Circling Buzzards.

Alone

I am actually alone in my house right now. It's a very unusual occurence. Chick is still lying in bed, sleeping for two. I assume the pets have curled up with her. Two dogs and a cat and a mom with a tiny, little child inside of her. All of them dreaming together.

It is rare for me to write by hand. Almost all of my writing is typed directly into the computer, although that has not always been the case. In college I always wrote the first draft of whatever short story I was creating, by hand. That way I could look back to the thoughts I had crossed out. The Backspace key makes it to easy to erase what might have been an excellent idea, or even just a different way of saying something. As a matter of fact every sentence in this paragraph appears differently on the yellow pad of paper I used in the original writing. This particular sentence never existed on the yellow pad of paper.

In one way I am not sitting at the kitchen table alone. I am surrounded by hundreds of baseball players all on 2x3 cards. (3 boxes of 24 packs with 12 cards per pack - you do the math.) A-Rod is staring at me from the top of one of the boxes. Phil Garner is taking me out of the game with his hand extended outward for the ball. Guardado, as in 'Everyday' Eddie, is sticking out of a book I was just reading. It's a compilation of short stories. Written in Stone by Catherine Brady is about a relationship between a husband and wife who have recently been divorced. It's okay though, they remain good friends. And anyway, the story is much more about society and cultural constraints than it is about marriage.

I am finding some pain in my writing hand. It reminds me of the first week of a new school year. Having barely used a pen for an entire summer and jumping into hours of note-taking is hard on the fingers and wrist. At least this morning I can pause to rest. It's my story.

It is rare that I sit in this particular chair. I'm facing the back windows of our house that bring trees into our family room. Through the bare limbs of the trees, remnants of last weeks' snow storm can be seen on the hill. The snow will be gone in a few days but not likely for long. In front of the window our Christmas tree still stands. It will definitely be gone in a few days, if not sooner. But it will be the last time it stands in this house. Under the tree there are still many presents. All but one has been opened - a small gift for the lady next door who normally drops by on Christmas morning. She did not make it over this year, probably because of the snow. But it may be that because we are moving she doesn't feel the need to be neighborly. It's a shame too - I think she would have enjoyed the hard, ribbon candy.

I think I'm done with being alone for now. I'm going to head into the bedroom and see what everyone is dreaming about. Hopefully, it's all good.