Koi

My alarm sounded and I stumbled to the bathroom, still not even close to fully awake. I reached past the curtain and turned the shower water on, let it run for a bit, and then stepped in.

My eyes were still not open- I was miserably tired. I found the soap and shampoo with my eyes closed, by memory. I stood under the water and washed but still was not waking up, which surprised me. Normally the shower pops me right to wakefulness.

And as I stood there with my eyes closed, and even though I still felt very, very sleepy, I was incredibly aggravated by the fish that kept swimming into my legs. Every few seconds I felt them bump or brush against me. I cursed the koi but stood there a while longer, then I shifted my feet a little, stepped on another koi and nearly fell, and felt even more aggrieved.

Then I woke up again, this time for real.

So, dream translators, what does it mean if you dream your bathtub is a koi pond?

This began as a comment on Mom's blog but it was too long. So this little tale gets its own post.

Wednesday night's ballgame was interesting. With the scoreboard not working, it was easy to lose track of things. On the field we'd lose track of the score and the inning. It felt like pick-up ballgames did when I was a kid and the game's end was not determined by the number of innings but by when someone's mom called them home.

At one point I found myself recollecting the summertime curfew of 'when the streetlights come on,' though that wouldn't have worked Wednesday because the ballfield lights were as dead as the scoreboard.

As the game headed into extra innings I had a brilliant idea. Mom and Dad were there, so if we got a lead I was going to have Mom yell "Kevin, it's time to come home!" Then I could just look around and say "sorry, my mom is calling me. I gotta go."

Hey, it used to work for Joe Clark.

Unfortunately (mostly because my hitting was not nearly as brilliant as my idea) we never got the lead.

Many months ago, my company renewed our major contract. It was a big deal, especially because it was a 4 year commitment. Displaying all the style and class of most major corporations, the company celebrated by giving us all cheesey red tee shirts that said 'FOUR MORE YEARS!' on the back.

My shirt was quickly deposited in a desk drawer and forgotten until I saw it again today.

My boss is an avid UofL football fan and season-ticket holder. Like many UofL football fans, she wishes Coach Kragthorpe gone. She thinks he's ruining the program.

So I made a little suggestion and donated the shirt, my friend Debbie provided the artistic effort, and then we hung the shirt over the the boss's desk, with "KRAGTHORPE" written jersey-style across the top, above "FOUR MORE YEARS!"

It was nifty. Unfortunately, I didn't have a camera. I should have saved the idea until tomorrow.

She tried very hard to discover who had left her such a thoughtful present, but nobody ratted us out. I said I thought Tom Jurich might have delivered the shirt personally, but I wasn't sure.

Softball bad news/good news

Bad news: another loss, we were still without 4 starters, I hit terribly, terribly, terribly.

Good news: hey, as David Benioff wrote in "City of Thieves," just because there's bad news, that doesn't mean there is good news.

Okay, in this case I think there is good news. I just realized in the last few days that I move, and specifically pivot, like an old man. I'm not in awful shape, thanks to my exercise bike and walking, but I have no back flexibility and lately I have some back pain. (That's the GOOD news?)

That is good news because I realized the reason for it is a desk job, too much time in the recliner, and bad posture when I'm sitting. I can't do much about the amount of time spent sitting at work, but I can improve my posture there. I can stay out of the recliner, and I can work on flexibility.

I think it will pay some dividends, and probably quickly. I hit great on Sundays- the day I don't sit at my desk all day at work, and am usually most active and therefore limber in the evening. Tuesdays and Wednesdays have stunk.

We'll see.

I've had the above picture saved for nearly a year, waiting for a picture of myself to paste in as one of the geniuses- just as Dad suggested. But the few photos I have of myself didn't scan at all well, and I have yet to take any of myself since I got a digital camera.
I grew tired of waiting and plugged in Ralph Wiggum instead.
Oh well. Some day...

In Raleigh, NC, Joseph Carnevale was charged with misdeanor larceny after stealing items from a construction site and creating this barrel monster.
Larceny is bad. The barrel monster is cool.

Last night, after spending all day thinking how nice it was to have three full days off from softball, I got a call to sub tonight. I would very much have liked to rest but I couldn't pass it up.

It was fun, and painful. We won 29-19. I was 2 for 4 with two walks, so that was okay.
I only got two balls hit my way on defense. The first was a rocket that I think I would have knocked down but it hit the bag and bounced 15 feet over my head. The second was a one-hopper that I played perfectly-for a third baseman. It just about broke my shin, then I picked it up, stepped on the bag, and almost turned a nifty third-to-first double play. The batter beat it by a step. I was a little surprised he got down the line so fast because he was about six foot eight inches tall and weighed about 320- which I guess explains why it hurt so much when his line drive hit me.

I like hanging out there on Friday nights- there's a large crowd, good softball, and phenomenal men's volleyball. But I left fairly quickly to go home and ice my leg. Ouch.