Accessory Before the Fact

Since two of the things I love best are baseball & reading, naturally I love to read about baseball. I know that sounds one-dimensional or even shallow, but there's all kinds of baseball reading out there:

• kids' books
• novels
• mysteries
• nonfiction -- seriously, check this one out; it's not really a 'baseball book' -- part biography, part travelogue, part history lesson, part philosophy, part poetry -- mostly just wonderful reading
• fantasy baseball

And since I also love math & statistics, and I enjoy learning more about how baseball 'works', I've read a lot of what's sometimes called sabermetrics -- baseball research often using statistical analysis. The patron saint of sabermetrics is Bill James, whose work has always been dedicated to the idea you can understand baseball if you find and apply the right tools. But it ain't all square roots and logarithms... he always writes wickedly funny stuff (occasionally more wicked than funny).

One passage I remember vividly (hence, probably, inaccurately) was an analysis of a trade. He pointed out that 'team X' had traded for a pitcher who pitched really poorly, and then almost immediately suffered a career-ending injury. They gave up two players who played well for many years afterwards, and who played positions that 'team X' also then had trouble filling. In other words, basically the Perfect Storm of bad trades... or as Bill put it, "that's what I call hanging yourself with a custom-fit noose."

This weekend, it was my turn to measure out the rope.

For years upon years, my wife has regaled me with tales of her childhood dirt-bike adventures. And the stories always seemed to end up in the same place: "When you're dead, I'm going to get a motorcycle."

Myself, I have no Need For Speed. When it comes to transportation, I want the wind in my face to be coming from the factory-controlled climate system. Given what I experience on the roads these days, I think it only prudent not to venture out without hundreds of pounds of steel and safety glass between me and everyone else. It's not like I'm the life of the party at amusement parks either; when I was a kid, my grades always got me free rides at Hoffman's Playland... except I could never find rides that didn't terrify me. And a 10-year-old doesn't cut a very impressive figure on the Ladybug ride.

So I have always dismissed the motorcycle talk in the minimum possible number of words. But lately, the song has been crescendoing.

Now she's talking about riding a "scooter" -- you know, just around town. OK, maybe a few miles down the highway. If you're thinking of the things you stand on with one foot & push with the other... guess again. She doesn't even want to consider anything with a top speed under 55 (actually, we've had cars that weren't that comfortable at 55).

Given my reluctance to see my bride of nearly 21 years become the shiny silver ball inside a giant pinball machine, why would I do anything to add fuel to the fire? Such as...

This past Saturday, while the kids were on their Annual Amusement Park Outing with their aunt, we had the whole day to ourselves for whatever fun and romance we could dream up.

Instead, I took her to look at scooters.

I guess in part I was hoping that seeing the scooters close up would remind her that not only is it an expensive habit, but also that driving something that unprotected in traffic is a little like trying to fight a forest fire in a tank top, shorts, and flip-flops.

But I'm also a husband, and let's face it: there aren't too many times I'll be able to help put that look of delight and joy and anticipation on her face.

I continue to (gently) remind her of my reservations, and I think she may hold off for now-- but I wonder whether it's just a matter of time till the other boot drops. So do me a favor: if I let you know, if and when it does become a reality, would you mind very much all staying off the streets around here?

Truly Blessed

I usually think of myself as a pretty healthy person. I'm the guy who, if you ask who my doctor is, generally replies, "I don't really have one." I did have a problem with my ear a couple years ago that included some blockage and a truly awful spell of vertigo; I meant to blog at that time about how it was to suffer Medical Care, but by the time I felt like sitting up at a keyboard again, the moment had passed. And if you heard the noise that emanates from my spine when I twist, you might be inclined to call an ambulance... but that may just be the joys of being 46.

As a matter of fact, aside from one ER visit more than 10 years ago, the last time I was in the hospital, I was wrapped in a cozy blue blanket. Never even broke a bone in any of those childhood misadventures. All of that notwithstanding, I take my medicine every day.

I have one of those weird nonspecific allergies; if I don't dose up on Claritin-D every day, I get this annoying little tickle right at the spot where the clavicles come together, and I start barking. The reason my allergies are nonspecific is that the doctor I went to didn't seem to care why I was barking -- he just said, "Oh, that's allergies; here, take this." I thought it might be nice to have some sense of what I was allergic to... but since the alternative is being poked full of holes, I decided it wasn't altogether crucial.

In those days, Claritin was prescription-only, so I was able to get the insurance company to help me out, but that came to an end a couple years ago. Now I pay the freight solo, which in the most recent instance came to $18.95 for 15 pills. I'm well aware that's not much to people who are paying way more for real heavy-duty meds -- but it's kinda painful to me to pay over $400 a year (and think about it: I'm not even really sure why).

I do know I can't do without. If I miss a day (or even sometimes when I don't), in the mid-evening I start to get that tickle and here comes the bark. I have a pretty short, sharp cough, and usually a single instance at a time (my wife has been known to castigate me for not warning her it was coming; it often makes her jump). For some reason it's quite frequently mistaken for a sneeze, even though it really doesn't sound like my sneeze, so I really hear "God bless you" quite a bit. And at the risk of confounding my public persona, I don't like to make people feel uncomfortable, so instead of correcting them, I usually just say thanks.

And just when I feel like I have the whole thing under control... spring arrives. I've written several times about all the wonders of the season, but of course all that comes with a price. In my case the toll is exacted by a sticky yellow substance wafting in the breeze that makes my eyes itchy and my sinuses fill up with goo and just generally makes me want to send my entire head out to be steam-cleaned.

I was gleeful to the point of being smug when the really nice weather arrived almost simultaneously with my new work laptop. Since I have not only wireless internet access, but also the capability to make & receive phone calls through my laptop, I can work literally anywhere in the house... or even outside the house. A sunny day, relaxing on the deck -- I mean, focused on my work with laserlike intensity while happening to be sitting on the deck. So the first decent day, I packed my stuff and got right out there.

I should point out that, in addition to my susceptibility to pollen, I also have eyes like one of those fish that live at the bottom of the ocean. A lot of times I'm squinting on a cloudy day, so bright & sunny is not always what it's cracked up to be. And while a laptop is plenty portable, it's not really designed to be viewed with an 800-watt bulb glaring in your eyes.

So I sat on the deck, sneezing & blowing my nose, squinting and more or less unable to read my screen. Yes, it was a red-letter, and -nose, day for me. But, you know, it was the symbolism of the thing.

Anyway, if you come looking for me on any vaguely summerlike day, just walk around the back -- you'll find me on the deck. And if you happen to catch me sneezing, you don't have to say God Bless You... I've been blessed enough for any two people.

Interjection Junction

I have to admit that I was never an enormous fan of Schoolhouse Rock back in the day; it appeared on ABC and I always thought their kids' shows & cartoons were somewhat cheesy. CBS (channel 10 back in those days!) was the home of the Bugs Bunny/Roadrunner hour -- hence the home of me, as well. I am on record as stating the cartoon universe belongs to Bugs and everyone else is just drawn into it. He's the king of 'em all, y'all.

No, I had to get my grammar education the old-fashioned way: by diagramming sentences. I really don't remember anything about diagramming sentences at this late date; I have convinced myself that I was really proficient at it, but I suspect that may just be the standard memory trick we all play on ourselves.

Regardless, my zeal for grammar (and punctuation, and spelling, and syntax) remains to this day. In fact, I'm pretty much the Spanish Inquisition of grammar etc. Well, OK, like most of the universe, when using Instant Message I suffer a strange paralysis when it comes time to capitalize and punctuate... but other than that, don't come in here with any of that weak stuff.

Today I'm musing about interjections: any member of a class of words expressing emotion, distinguished in most languages by their use in grammatical isolation, as Hey! Oh! Ouch! Ugh! The problem for me is that I feel like most of the really "popular" interjections related to frustration, anger, distress, etc. seem to be... not a great idea to use around small children. I hasten to add that I'm altogether aware that language you wouldn't use in front of children is most likely language to eschew entirely.

In fact, as pointed out by a favorite book of mine (regrettably I can't lay hands on it right now), the majority of our common exclamations -- even "darn" -- are actually euphemisms for words you can't use in polite company. Wow, I just thought: that's really an archaic concept, isn't it? I should say, words you wish people wouldn't use in polite company, or any company. And I have to be doubly careful, because I frequently stress to the kids that they shouldn't look for sneaky ways to say bad words without really saying them ("poopy" is one of the ones they try to sneak in).

This is slightly off the point -- at least I think it is; no one knows better than I how challenging it can be to deduce my actual point -- but I'm reminded of a recent occurrence here. My son was having one of his occasional meltdowns the other day, during which he quite often screams the angriest, rudest words he can think of. I had more or less tuned him out when I realized he was shouting, "Did you hear me? I said 'the S-H word'!" Alarmed, I did a mental rewind to discover he had hollered, "shut up!" which of course is not acceptable, but still a relief compared to what I thought he meant.

And as a bonus, a digression from the digression: why is it that 'be quiet', 'hush', and 'close your mouth' are acceptable, but 'shut up' is a capital offense? Don't they all mean I don't want to hear anything you say?

Anyway (rejoining the blog, already in progress), I'm kind of casting around for an expression to compensate for the fact that I (a) get frustrated frequently and (b) talk to myself a lot. I need something brief, with sufficient explosive consonants. I still remember an episode of the original Bill Cosby Show in which his basketball team got in trouble for using bad language on the court; by the end of the episode, one of the players managed to substitute "Fudge cake!" I use that occasionally, but usually kind of ironically & not in the heat of battle. And I've tried "dagnabbit', but I always feel a bit like Walter Brennan.

For some other possibilities, check out #6o in this list ... or perhaps #17 here.

I may just have to coin my own word... but of course, if you have any suggestions, feel free to pass them along.