Random musings

It's been a disjointed couple days. Tuesday marked my return to hockey with practice at the sentimental and unpleasantly fragrant Pan Am. In all my warm recollections of hockey I'd forgotten about the bacterial infused facilities and terrible Zamboni work. But that's a part of it, I suppose. Pan Am is an old gal and could use a little TLC; an unlikely event as her existence is darkened by the shadow of the new stadium and what will be done with that real estate.

The team looks good, and it feels good getting back into the gear that's held up well although I've shrunk some in the last couple years. My shot is weak, but it was never really that good to begin with. I've always relied on one timers and dekeing goalies. No slappers for this gal.

I received a coupon today from Borders thanking me for shopping at a particular Waldenbooks and that it will be closing soon. What libel! I haven't shopped there as an adult. Is Waldenbooks even a real bookstore? I mean, they sell Harry Potter and whatever criminal/lawyer/stock broker/politico/CIA operative drama of the month, but I see them as a large news stand with materials that take a little longer to digest than the Post.

On the work front, business hasn't been so good. I'm somewhat unaffected by it being in I.T., however, I'm still nervous from the grumblings and potential fallout. It's the not knowing that's rough. The best that can be said is this is a potential character building experience in that I'll be practicing going to work everyday under a cloud of press clippings fraught with insider commentary.

Last night I continued the saga of repairing ol' girl. Ol' girl is my '82 Honda CM 450 motorcycle and while she is younger than me I would have no age based qualms in dating her. That's an old motorcycle. I drained and removed the gas tank which took about forty minutes. Apparently, I left far more gas in the tank than I thought. Those carbs are going to look nasty! I drained and nearly removed the carburetor. I was going to remove the tops and have a look see in the jets, but after seeing the black ick drain out of the carbs I decided I might as well rip the whole thing out and have it bathe in carb cleaner. I have it loose, a minor miracle, but the choke and the throttle cables are still attached to it, and I've no idea how to get them unattached. The pins on the ends of the cables look like they were stamped after installation, but I'm sure that's not the case. I'll be scratching my head over this one for a while.

During all this I managed to spill gasoline everywhere. Under the bike, on the engine case, on my shorts and sandals. I walked into my garage this morning and experienced the reek extending to high heaven. I hope I can air that out before it gets inside the house. I have the excess gas (and some brake fluid, and yogurt... I reuse those glass jars) stored away, and I'll be disposing of that at a tox drop facility.

Cleaning out ye olde closet

I came home from an outing Sunday and was faced with the realization that my kitchen is covered in laundry. The laundry cabinet shares the same wall as my pantry, and I fold my clothes at the kitchen table, throw them in baskets and cart them off to my room. For work I have a slew of collared button downs that need ironing and so they get pulled out of the dryer lickity split and placed on the back of a chair. I tell myself that if they are in the same room as the ironing board then I'll actually iron them - a sloppy lie. My cotton polos wrinkle easily and so they get folded over a different chair. When I'm washing my laundry I generally like to do some other chore - or watch television - which tends to distract me as I have a limited attention span. So my kitchen generally gets overrun with a couple half full baskets of clean laundry around the table with a few piles of t-shirts, undies, and socks that have been rifled through on my way out the door to work.

For some reason this Sunday I decided that I didn't want to look at it first thing when I walked in the door any longer so I got to putting things away. Of course, it's not as simple as all that. I'm in between looks at the moment. Not uber butch, but that strappy evening dress just doesn't seem right anymore. As a result I've been buying a lot of clothes but holding on to the old ones. This leads to an input/output issue. I'm not tossing out all the dresses, but I have some outmoded shirts and trousers that need to go. And do I really need that bride's maid dress now three sizes too big for the wedding of the couple I wasn't really that close to? I've trimmed down what's in the closet to make room for what should be in the closet.

Before I completed the closet re-org project I moved on to the garage. I have a tendency to hop around, and the garage has been in my sites for some time. I finally threw out a pair of heavy, chrome, metal frame dark brown fabric armchairs. I bought them five years ago at a going out of business sale at a coffee shop and put them in the unfinished basement of my old place which served as my combination video game room, storage area, and laundry facility all under a single, bare, low watt bulb. It had its charms. In any case, I moved to my condo two years ago and these chairs have been piled up in the garage ever since taking up hot real estate in the corner. I threw these out last night, removed all the crap in that corner, and put my '82 Honda CM 450 where they were.

It's this item, my first motorcycle, that's pushed the mess in my garage to the front of my mind. It hasn't run in a year and a half, and has been literally stuck in place for some time. I sat on it for a while and remembered how much fun I had riding it around. Sure I was a little embarrassed of its age and small engine, but ol' girl is my first, and she's extremely comfy in comparison to my zippy sport bike. I need a winter project so this is going to be it. My goal is to have that bike running again. I've already started by removing the front brake last night. Ugh. It really wasn't a frozen clutch that was keeping it from moving. I've been working on that brake since I dropped that bike in '05. Sheesh. I think I'm going to just rip it off, put a drum brake on the front wheel and call it a day. It's not like the bike will cross the 70 mph threshold again. The point of the story is even though the tubed tires are rotten, and the gas in the tank hasn't been stabilized no doubt coagulating into petroleum based life forms in my carburetor I'm determined to resurrect ol' girl.

And if that doesn't work out I'll dismantle her and sell the parts.

Sunday Football segment

The Colts beat the Texans today. It was a good game overall, however, the special teams scare me a little. Clint Session needs to get some tackling tips or something. From my amateur eye he looked timid. Big props to Hunter Smith for being such a gung ho tackler and a shake of the head to the rest of the guys on the field who left it to the kicker to stop the return. Seriously, I hope you're all thinking about that tonight. Manning threw well. Addai put on an air show flipping into the endzone, and Reggie Wayne had a show stopper catch, although I seem to recall that getting ruled incomplete. The refs were stingy about ruling a pass caught. But whatev. We won another division game, and join New England, Pittsburgh, and Green Bay in the 3-0 club. We'll be playing the Pats early in November here in Indy.

Before we do that though we'll be playing Monday night at Jacksonville on the 22nd of October, and I have tickets! My sister's boyfriend scored tickets for Monday night football, but he can't go so I'm flying down for the game! I'm so excited. I've never been to a Monday night game, and I haven't been to a pro game since... well high school when the Colts weren't all that awe inspiring. I need to come up with a catchy initialization for ESPN to put on a poster and get on TV. The only thing I could come up with is Eat Some Pussy Now, but I think my odds of getting that air time are low. It's a work in progress. I'll just let it come to me naturally. The faux will be done up in blue hair paint, temporary of course, and I'll don a jersey. I've got plenty of planning time. More to come.

What a difference a day makes

Oh gawd, I'm going through a sobriety flip-flop. I quit consuming substances a couple months ago. Last week I toyed with the idea of indulging in alcohol again. Well, Monday rolled around and I made up my mind. I tell myself it wasn't fair. I was convinced I had sex in my future if I could just drink a little. I was right. Alcohol really fuels the sex drive. Nothing gets a person into the mood quite like a chemically affected intimacy. And I told myself, no one likes to drink to fuck alone. And thus I was rewarded for drinking with sex. howza!

So then I decide this whole sobriety thing is for the birds. Why not just go back to what I've done, avoid going overboard, and see where that gets me? I've been sitting around with those thoughts today, and I've had a little trepidation over it. The fact is, I know where that takes me, and it's the place I've been bitching about for a long time now. Oh, why don't I ever write that novel? -or- I wish I could start a project and see it all the way through. -or- Why can't I get over my intimacy issues? I know this will eventually turn into -Why am I not in a relationship?

There's the rub. My most recent chemical binges were mandated by a need for personal buffer zones between me and the world. I couldn't possibly be in a relationship after the divorce. Even when I was technically in a relationship I still wasn't there. I presented a proxy of myself to this other and went about my business in my head. I'll tell you, the chemicals really aided this duality.

Last night I went out and drank. I had a few beers. It wasn't a big deal either way. Most of my encounters with alcohol go that way which seriously confuses the situation. I have all these scenarios where I can point to having drank without trying to fulfill a need in futility and tell myself I can do this. That's the thing. I can and I can't. As long as I have that crutch available I will *always* use it. What I need to do is break the circuit entirely. Clear out and see what it is to behave like a normal person for a couple years like I initially told myself I would.

So in any case, I was convinced that I was going to continue on the path of indulgence until tonight.
Tonight, I spoke with a good friend - well, worked with is really the phrase. I spent a lot of time in blissfully brutal honesty considering what it is that I'm really looking for when I drink and how I'm only achieving the opposite of what I want.

What sucks is that I just don't think I have the personal fortitude to continue to play rugby and remain sober. I feel bad about that. I feel like I'm missing out on something that I really wanted, but if I keep looking I see how rugby isn't all that great for me. I love my brain, and I am still feeling a bit dim after that shot to my jaw from last Saturday. Perhaps, it's better to bow out while I still have the ability to bend at the waist.

The one thing I want to impart to all those who read this blog is that I love you, big drinkers! I like being sober around you while you're drunk. I like hanging out with you anyway you are. You are great, and I have never felt uncomfortable not drinking in your presence. You are good fun! I'm not confused as to who has the chemical problem. That's all me, my babies, and I'm not into making my problems the problems of others. I guess this is really for Romeo's benefit. Kisses, babe!

I imagine I'll have some more spills, slips and slides as I check out this whole sobriety thing over the next couple years. Stay tuned.

First game

More on the rugby front. Thursday night I found out that I'm terrible at tackling. I kept getting deked by my teammates during my first tackling drill ever. I was pretty nervous since our first game was coming up in a couple days and tackling is a flanker's bread and butter. How is it that I could suck so much at something I thought I would take to like a duck to water?

I got some outside help from veterans on the team. I was dropping my head way early when I shouldn't be doing it at all, and I was aiming too high. Essentially, I was to focus in on my opponent's pelvis and crush it. No worries.

Friday night I went out with the gals for the Friday night ride. I went home at around midnight avoiding the bars. I had woken up that morning feeling a bit sick, and I didn't want to coax an oncoming cold.

I was nervous when I hit the field Saturday morning. I was getting last minute instructions and advice yelled at me prior to the kick off, and I was feeling less than confident that I would do well. I didn't even know if I was going to play. But as it turned out I started at flank with a strong vet helping me out. She was strategically placed at weak side, in my mind, so that she would have to cross my path to get to the action. In case I was in the wrong place she would know it and usher me to the correct position. Plus she's faster than me. It worked out well.

We lined up against Depauw. The ref informed us that they were petrified and requested that our front row work with their front row prior to the game to work out any possible issues. We were also urged to give them advice throughout the game. Even with this information I was still concerned about my own performance for the test. I didn't calm down until the ball was kicked (not to me thankfully) and we charged down the pitch with authority.

As it turned out this was an uneven match up. We held possession about 90% of the match and kept Depauw out of our 22 the entire game. That wasn't so great for working on tackling, but it helped me get comfortable with the offense which I still find bewildering. We scored try after try I don't think anyone kept score. I've never played a game so team oriented before. I scored a try, but it is nothing like scoring a goal in hockey or soccer. I was pleased, but I thought, "Well yeah, anyone would have done that who was where I was." It wasn't spectacular or anything. No the spectacle comes at the next social. When someone scores their first try it's tradition to "go zulu" at the social. The social is a beer bonging bash the home team throws for both teams and running zulu means I'm getting nekid and running around the party. I hope they have a privacy fence. Hoo Rah! I had to miss this social to run off to a wedding, but I'm sure I'll be making the run at the next event.

The game itself felt only slightly physical. I got banged up a little throughout and stepped on a couple times, but I was fine until late in the second half when I took a tremendous shot to the jaw during a tackle. I think it was with some girl's head or elbow. It was something very hard and bony. I was hit with a wave of pain that was followed by nausea. I heaved enormous gulps of air for a couple minutes, and felt a lot of concern about concussions. My jaw is still a little swollen, but I don't have any bruising on my face which is nice. For the most part the headache is gone though. I think my fears were overblown.

So that was my first rugby test. I'm pretty psyched for the next one.

Cool evening cool on the job

It is a crisply fabulous evening, cool and fresh. I smell autumn around the corner. I can't wait to crawl into bed tonight. This is some mighty fine sleeping weather. Windows open, naturally. If I'm not careful I'll snooze till ten.

Last night brought a hard practice and a late start to sleep. I was a bit groggy today, which worked out more or less since the 2,000 or so employees that make up my company were carted off to Deer Creek (aka Verizon Wireless) music center for a four hour "Hooray for us!" meeting. This is a silly affair, and ultimately surreal for hump day. For the most part we dutifully donned our corporate branded apparel and shivered in the shade of the pavilion at the amphitheater watching a photo/video presentation set to music full of candid pictures of us cube jockies. We heard a speech from our CEO, a bit disappointing with all the stuttering but otherwise painless, after which was a hurried Q&A segment followed by an award ceremony for a few ass kicking employees. I work with one of the recipients, and he is in fact an ass kicker. This was followed promptly by lunch which was edible but full of starch. Back to the pavilion to watch the finalists of our own version of America's Got Talent which we use as a fund raising carrot for the United Way. I got to witness a co-worker sing some baritone aria a cappella, another sang terribly karaoke style to some Christian song that involved such enraptured love imagery I imagined it was originally written for a bride of Christ. Yet another group got up and played short selections with hand bells - only they were more like pitched cow bells. I can't explain it. Just imagine hand bells playing "When the Saints Come Marching In" only very clunky - now multiply whatever clunk you imagined by ten. Yes it's possible. Someone in middle management graced us with some wicked break dancing moves set to JT's "Sexyback" and finally we were treated to a group of line dancers grooving to this song I hear at The Ten all the time, but I have no clue what it's called. Ultimately, it was harmless, and I suppose it's good to recognize good work. It's good to get people together off site for a pat on the back, too. But the average I.T. cube monkey isn't concerned with that. At least, I'm not. I would have preferred an afternoon shooting pool or bowling or something that didn't involve sitting in the shaded outdoors. It was all very high school.

A lot about my job reminds me of high school. Not the actual work, but the mechanics of me attending my job. It's certainly not as strict, but every day I stream into a large building with a coffee in my hand and computer bag on my back. I sit in my chair and work at my desk until I have to go to a meeting which will range in utility from highly productive to worse than useless, but for the most part falls under the category of functional. I am glad that I can say my company doesn't fall into the trap of habitually scheduling meetings that do little but waste time. I occasionally pop my head up for light interaction with my co-workers. So really it's like high school meets college. I have a lot more freedom than I did in high school, but I'm still physically stuck in the same location every day until I'm released. I don't enjoy sitting still. At least I don't enjoy sitting still staring at grey/oatmeal colored cubical walls at a desk that just doesn't seem to fit right. Maybe some decorating is in order.

Today, when I got back to the office I was beat from all the extra food and wasted rah rah rah. When 5 o'clock rolled around I was crawling out the door.

It's been go go go just about every day for me for the past two weeks so I decided tonight would make a great night to do nothing but eat an enormous cheeseburger, watch a movie, and defragment my hard drive. File maintenance is like going to the dentist. I should probably do it twice a year, but I just can't be bothered. My hard drive was so full I spent an hour selecting and deleting MP3 files before I could even run the defrag. If it wasn't for this new beast of a packet analysis tool I have to install on my work laptop I'd be blissfully operating with only 3% of my hard drive free.

All this lackadaisical computing occupies me just enough to notice little else but the crickets outside my window which brings me back full circle to the weather, my clean sheets, and how these two components are going to intersect in a heavenly fashion at the Me axis. I feel my nerves along my arms and legs stretch out for that anticipated comfort. No sense in delaying this gratification.

World cups a poppin'!

The 2007 Rugby Union World Cup is on, and I've only just watched my first test. Games can be viewed, after a twenty-four hour delay, online on the official ruby world cup website (rugbyworldcupvideo.com) for $3 a pop. Or one can opt to purchase all 48 games for $50. There's another package that's much pricier that includes some sort of premium content. I'm contenting myself with the pay per view route. So far so good. Streaming occasionally gets choppy. I haven't bothered to wait for an entire download. I'm assuming the servers are in the UK. I've been watching Scotland pummel Portugal. The English announcers have handled Portugal at once charitably and condescendingly. I don't know how an announcer manages to say the phrase, "Please, if you're from Portugal don't take offense, but when you have a match up between a rugby union heavyweight and a rugby minnow..." with deference but somehow the gentleman managed.

It's been fun to watch Scotland blow out a team, but my next game will have to be a closer contest. Perhaps featuring New Zealand's All Blacks. I want to see how the US do, but I'll skip their opener against England where they lost the test and a player for the rest of the tournament after he committed a dangerous tackle. I'll be interested to see how they do against Tonga tomorrow who is supposed to be a much more even match. Also we have 4 players on the US side who were born in Tonga one of whom is the nephew of the Tonga head coach. Rugby Union has a lot more nation swapping than say the soccer World Cup or the Olympics.

It's strange watching an international sport that's more or less dominated by anglophones. New Zealand and Australia are always strong contenders with Scotland, England, Wales, Ireland, and South Africa putting in strong appearances. Other teams are strong, France for instance has been pretty much on the leaderboard for some time

The US men's rugby team ranked 15th are coming off of a loss from England, but people are offering their tenacious performance as evidence for their favored status in their upcoming match against 14th ranked Tonga tomorrow.. This should be a close match - and freaky. The US side has four players who were born in Tonga and one of them is the nephew of the Tonga head coach. Bum bum buuum. The US

The US Women's Soccer team went up against N. Korea and tied 2-2. It was raining cats and dogs in China where the match was held. I don't place too much on any result under such conditions - the weather, not the nation. Their next match is against Sweden on the 14th. The fourth team in this bracket is Nigeria. Ugh. It's not a cake walk. Especially since whatever happens in the US Sweden game will pretty much determine who gets to move on. Commence nail biting.

As mentioned the women's cup is held in China this year so the games come on at 5 or 8 in the morning EST. I don't have cable anyhow so it's not like I'd be able to peep them all that much. I'm looking for games online, but the offerings are slim. I've seen some sketchy deals touting satellite tv through the internet where I can watch 1,000s of satellite television stations for a one time cost of 49.95. I'll tell you whenthe first question in the FAQ is "Is this legal?" and the answer is an unsupported "Yes." I have to keep on surfing. However, it just occurred to me that ESPN is merely doing a bad job of marketing their merch without driving up page counts for google. I've been searching women's world cup matches online without a single peep from the network that carries the games, but a quick hop to their site shows me that they're airing the games for free on ESPN360. Hurrah! Now I'll have something to do tomorrow morning at work.

In my own rugby news, my first game (ahem "test") is this Saturday. I'm psyched and nervous. I'm excited to finally get on the field and see what this is really all about. Practice is one thing, but we don't engage in a lot of contact so that we might keep our bodies fresh - although tonight we did some tackling and some dropping and I managed to be clumsy around some injured teammates. At any rate, I don't have a true understanding of how much I'm going to limp afterwards. Then I'm flying off to a wedding so I'll be missing the post game fete. After every rugby match there's a social where both teams get together and drink a shit ton of beer generally hosted by the home team. Crazy.