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Good morning! It's Father's Day and I want to shout out to my own Pop, 87 years old and going strong. He's our prayer warrior and all around great guy. He has taught me more about caring for one another than anyone else. Always ready to assist, pray, or party, he's our rock! Thanks Dad, for everything you have done over the years. Love ya, man!

On to why I have not posted in a few days. Our little Diva is still very very sick. She is moaning and still has a fever. She has lost weight and I took her for a second opinion. The second vet was terrific and now we have a 7 am ultrasound of the abdomen appointment in lower Delaware tomorrow. In addition, she is going to see another eye doctor, but we don't have an appointment, the staff will try to fit us in before noon. That means we could be sitting there for 5 hours waiting for the eye doctor to see us. Peeved? Nope. I am grateful for the opportunity to save Diva's life, 'cause frankly, she is not looking good at all. She looks like she is dying and we are all in shock.

I had to leave the vet's office for a few moments on Friday to collect myself. After all, I could not break down and cry in front of dad and Tink. They need me to be strong. I just see my little pup in so much distress and it hurts. She is the only one who would be demonstrably happy when I would return home. She would run to great me, jump into my arms, and cuddle for a few moments. This is non judgmental and unconditional love, that's for sure. As long a I fed her, she was happy and content. OK, there was the incidents when she bit Sparky and the heat guy, but the dog was trying to protect us. She has no idea that she is a 7 pounder. She thinks that she is a Great Dane.

Deep breath....

Now we can chat about the big lefty who is in Illinois and trying to make it in a field that is almost impenetrable. He called earlier this week in a panic about his elbow hurting. Tommy John? Nope, according to his PT (He called him) and PD (he emailed him), he has a few mechanical issues that he has to adjust. The trainer felt that it was a strain. No pitching last week.

Then, he calls us....midnight-ish...."I have numbness in my thumb." A numb thumb? Sheesh! When does this end? Figuring that it was a pinched nerve, the trainer was at work again and the numbness has subsided. Since then, he has been working on getting back in the line up. Today, he will long toss and next week, he will take the mound again.



As I spoke to him a number of times this week, he explained his heightened anxiety by saying "I have an expiration date." Hmmm....I get it. This is his last year to make it. He has June 2015 stamped on his forehead. Therefore, he walks around with the thought that each pitch that he throws may be his last. I get it. Be strong, big guy. Breathe.....Focus.....Throw.....

Yesterday, he sent an article to his father about a baseball coach who was fired in Arkansas. He did the same thing that the Czar did to him, but someone had their cell phone on and recorded the berating. This now gives the guys an idea to keep their cell phones in their gloves after each game. If someone who catch the Czar bullying these kids who have no power to fight back, he would get a dose of his own medicine. Am I for this kind of clandestine behavior? Oh, yeah. Take the big bully down so that he cannot demoralize or humiliate any more helpless guys.



On to my day starting with Pilates with one of my favorite instructors, Jim. he is 6'4 and all muscle. There is no fat on the guy whatsoever. The first time that he walked into class, I got very very nervous. I figured that my body would never be the same, yet he is one of the gentler instructors. Friday's instructor, Amazon,  had me in a ball of perspiration. My mind says 'sure, BPM, you can do this....' but my body replies 'huh, who do you think you are? Girl, you are not going to do these crunches. You don't have the strength or mobility. You are one big ball of protoplasm.' Yeah...so not only do I battle Jim and the Amazon, I battle myself. Am I hearing voices that aren't really there? Naw....I am hearing a middle aged woman's body saying, don't pull anything important....you may need it later to lift your wine glass......

Gotta go. Jim is not going to wait for me.

Happy Father's Day! Go Diva!!!!

Peace!

Ring a ding ding

Good morning! It's a nice day, right? Actually, I am  not sure....on my last day alone with Diva, I considered a slow, uneventful morning before the trip to the airport and class. But all best made plans are generally not achieved, so why bother....Let's begin....

 

Diva and I settled into bed early last night to read and relax. Ahhh....so nice.....eyes are closing....feeling relaxed...hmmmm....ring...ring..."Did I wake you up?"

Shall I be honest or just say: "Hey, no problem. Glad that you called...."? Ok, I lied and had a nice conversation with Tink as she shared the events of the evening. As you probably know, with cell phone technology, we speak to one another multiple times a day. But sweetly, she wanted to say "good night." She is such a nice person....

Eyes closed.....deep breath....in and out.....

Ring ring..."Do you know where dad is? How is going?" It's going well. How about you? "Well, in class we......"

Eyes wavering....Diva is asleep and I am ready to join her.....

Ring ring..."Did you speak to your son?" Yes, I spoke to him, why? "Just asking....see you tomorrow at 11." OK, see you...night....

Ring ring....Is it possible that it is 6:30a? Remember Olympia Dukakis in Moonlight when she answered the phone by saying "who died?" Well, for a moment, shivers went up my spine when it was the big kid....hello, what's up?

"Mom, I am in trouble...." Yes, a mother loves to be awakened from a sound sleep by the sound of her son's voice who claims that he is in trouble.

"Mom, my chest is burning." Why is your chest burning?

"Some guys cut classes. So the coaches made us run these crazy sprints and drills this morning. Everyone vomited including me. Then a freshman passed out. My chest burns and I am not sure why."

 


OK, I do know why. It seems that you were pushed beyond your capacity to breathe. As a punishment for cutting class, which you did not do, it ranks up there with water-boarding and the Medieval rack. It seems somewhat inhumane especially if the guys were throwing up and someone passed out. Was the coaches' message received? Once the guys are discharged from the infirmary, I am sure that they will be sitting in class as they consider a variety of ways to 'off' the trainer (kidding).

"Mom, I just want to come home." Dude, I hear ya....how about happy hour on Friday night? I'll buy the fish tacos....K? He hangs up to shower.....

It's still dark out as Diva and I close our eyes again and.....

Ring....

"Mom, I just wanted you to know that we landed in Atlanta...." Super! The first part of the flight is over and you are closer to home...yahoo!

Sigh....Diva, we are sunk, let's get going.....and so, the dog and I got out of bed and for some reason, she had the expressed need to wipe her bottom on the carpet in my bedroom and voila! a lovely streak of poo for me to clean....yes, this is destined to be a wonderful day....I am feeling it....

As we sat to drink coffee, I was missing one more call. And then it came...."We're on the plane and will be arriving on time..."
 


Goody. Time for me to shower and get to the airport. Once I grab the bags and put them into the trunk, I am sure that I will hear the sentence: "So, did you enjoy your time alone?"

Hmmm......



Have a great day!

Night moves

Another great day in the northeast and I am sitting in the car outside a preschool as Tink has another interview. I drove her to keep her nerves at check and help her to find it. Naturally, we got lost….my fault….she remained calm….I started praying to St. Anthony for directions.  We found it after a bit of trouble and she is now being scrutinized as a possible candidate for the job. Oye! When does it get easier? What if she gets the job and hates it? Then what? Does she start all over again and find a career and education that she wants and has a passion? This leads me to ponder where and how people develop their passion for things.

For example, when we were in San Antonio at the Alamo, there was a gift shop (naturally) and I went in (naturally). There was a large glass enclosed table that had hundreds of little soldiers for sale. They weren’t toys. They were collectibles and people were buying them by the handful. Let me tell ya….they were not cheap. So, why are these people passionate about little soldiers that are not toys? Don’t they know that they do not actually fight and they collect dust? 

 

Another passion that I ponder is one for ice fishing….really? You drive onto a frozen lake, use a chain saw to cut a hole in the ice and with no electricity or heat, a person sits on a chair and fishes. These people have to be cold and cannot start a fire or their trucks and little cold shacks will fall into the lake as the ice melts under them. And therefore, I think…why? I can see them coming home that night: "Honey, I am home. I caught a snapper and pneumonia.”

Another occupation that I really wonder about is sword swallowers in the circus. Why? Why would anyone want to place a sharp object into their mouths and down their throats? The phrase “Cat got your tongue” could actually be accurate with any kind of accident. What if he sneezes while the sword is in his throat? Then what? Call EMS, I suppose. The circus probably has them on speed dial.

 

Furthermore, a passion that has me puzzled is wanting to be a clown. I guess that I am staying in the circus mode. Be serious. Clowns scare most kids. Unless you are a sadist and want to see kids crying, then stay away from a life as a clown. How about jugglers who throw chain saws? Really? If my kids came to me at the dinner table and told me that they wanted to juggle chain saws for a living, I would have thrown a net over their heads and placed them in a padded room. 

 

My last vocation or passion that I will ponder is school bus driver. I doubt that I could ever drive a bus with little kids for myriad reasons such as screaming, hitting, biting, and developing the ultimate headache. I can see my nerves frayed as I try to deliver each precious gem to their bus stop. What if I closed my bus and there was a sleeping child in the back? I think I could lose my job or go to jail for that one. 

And so, I don’t want a profession or passion in which I could lose my livelihood if I forget something important like a sleeping urchin. I want a profession that is challenging, enjoyable, and fulfilling. I also need something positive to get me out of bed each day. I remember my waitressing years and when I had to work the breakfast shift, I would almost need an ejector button to propel myself to get up in the dark. To this day, I remember how hard it was to get out of bed. I even remember the song that the radio played during these years….it was ‘night moves’ by Bob Seger. When the radio went on at 5 am to wake me, I would hear…’blame it on the night moves…uh huh…night moves….’ My body would convulse and my head explode. To this day, when I hear this song on the radio, I get a physical and guttural reaction. 

Hmmm…this was a long post….now it is time for me to work on a few projects. 

Hasta La vista, baby!

From Bob Seger's Night Moves....

Workin' on our night moves
Trying to lose the awkward teenage blues
Workin' on out night moves
In the summertime
And oh the wonder
Felt the lightning
And we waited on the thunder
Waited on the thunder

I woke last night to the sound of thunder
How far off I sat and wondered
Started humming a song from 1962
Ain't it funny how the night moves
When you just don't seem to have as much to lose
Strange how the night moves
With autumn closing in

That's ONE!

It's raining and flooding this morning. Another great day to be a duck or perhaps an alligator....definitely a fish. After yesterday's post, I thought that I would have great news about the car, but sadly.....yes....life support has been withdrawn. All that is going to be left of the car will be the parts. That's it...time to say good bye to something that lasted longer than some marriages...the car that has been my companion for 11 years. I will bravely play taps as it is taken to the great car heaven in the sky. As Bob Hope would sing: "Thanks for the memories...."

A bit maudlin, I know. But....the car has been so faithful, that I have to give it my gratitude as our time together ends.

On to other things....I have been meaning to blog about the recent steroid controversy to hit the major leagues and share what my perspective is.....here we go....

OK, by using performance enhancement drugs, these guys cheated. Yes, cheated...cheaters....prevaricators...liars....sneaks....they cut the long line to the majors by taking these drugs...then lying.....lying again and again and again. How does the MLB reward them? Well, they give them so much money that their debit cards will never be rejected again. Their weekly pay checks are greater than the the annual budgets in third world countries. They have more money to burn in their backyards than Bill Clinton.





Does cheating bother me? Uh- yeah! Back to my tennis days....sorry....but it applies here....no...no one in college took steroids or anything like that. BUT I was accused of cheating. Yes...I was called the Big "C"...a cheater. Here's the story......fade to a dream....I was playing a Friday match with my good friend Muscles....we were down 0-5...then my opponent hit the ball by my foot and it was clearly out. Since I called it 'out', it was our point. The woman on the other side of the net went nuts....."that's ONE!", she screamed at me. Huh? I was standing right here...the ball was out. Get over it.....after a few minutes, she hit another ball clearly out. I once again....called it 'out'. Going absolutely ballistic....she screamed: "Thats TWO!" and dropped her racquet. Was she going to fight me over a line call? Did I cheat? The answer to those questions are 'yes' and 'no'.  I said to her: "If I am such a great cheater...why are we losing 0-5? Obviously, I am lousy at cheating...." She continued to rant at me. This is actually the closest I ever got to being in a girl fight. Not that I was going to take a swing, but I felt that she was and I was going to have to protect myself using some of the moves that I learned growing up with 5 siblings.

Then Muscles who is 6 inches shorter than I am got angry. I'll never forget it when she said to the crazy woman: "YOU are belligerent. DO you know what belligerent means? It means 'war-like'. Well, this woman went nutso and started to scream at us. This time, I dropped my racquet and said to Muscles: "I'm out of here. She's more than belligerent, she needs some Vitamin P (i.e. prozac) and a net thrown over her head. As I collected my stuff, her partner calmed the situation and we started to play again. However, crazy girl began to hit every  ball with gusto at my head any chance that she got.

I  ducked rather than be hit in the face then I adjusted and was happy that she wanted to hit me, because I started to hit them back at her. I did not have to run or even move my racquet because she continued to hit the balls right at my left temple. I held the racquet in front of my face as the balls deflected for winners for the rest of the match. We started to gain momentum but ended the game with a loss. But while crazy lady continued her meltdown, we were able to win a few games for a respectable loss.

What did I learn from being called a cheater? Well, I did not like it at all. But looking back on it, I realize that if I needed to be in a foxhole, Muscles should be my wing man/girl. After all, this tiny bit of woman was ready to jump over the net and defend my honor....now, that's a friend. I also learned not to back down when I know that I am right, just because I am being bullied by a person who should be in a padded room or resting at some sanitarium in the mountains with guards to keep her from leaving the premises.

And what does this have to do with the MLB scandal? Hmmm...nothing really....I remembered the story and that's about it. All I can say is that these players cheated and took the place of a guy who did not and deserved to have that position. Enough said...time for me to get some work done.



Have a great day!