People Watching at a Baseball Game

Hubby and I went to see the Cardinals smear the Astros all over the real grass in Busch Stadium. It was great. The weather was perfect -not too hot, not too cold- and we got there early! So, we're sitting in our seats, munching on garlic fries and watching the grounds-crew set up the infield. There were about 15 guys working down on the field. They got to go around sweeping all the dirt into nifty patterns, pick up any bits of dirt that had clumped, and make the chalk lines. Each task was an example of the fine art of perfection.
The pitcher's mound was worked in a spiral toward the rubber bar the pitcher stands on. Each base was swept in perfect circles. Home plate was swept like rays of the sun, then spiraled back in again. Fresh dirt was sprinkled on top of everything they had done, and when it came time to lay the chalk lines, it took every man on the field to perfect it. When they were done, the field virtually glowed with energy, and every line was crisp, clean and flawless.
The home base umpire immediately came onto the field and systematically wiped out all the chalk with his foot. It was beautiful!
I wanna be a baseball grounds keeper! I do, I do! I love all that anal stuff, and I love how it never stays perfect.

Hubby works at YMCA corporate, and they buy season tickets to give to corporate employees and donors. Last year, the seats were in front of a family from HicksVille. During one game, we actually overheard this: "I'm hotter than a goat in a paper sack." "Yeah, well I'm hotter than 2 goats in a paper sack!" No kidding. This year's seating is much better. We're on the lower portion of the third level, but it's right behing home plate. We almost got to catch a foul ball. Excellent!

There's a reason why Busch Stadium is named for beer. I'm not a beer fan. I'd have to be dying of thirst to drink one 32 oz cup 'o beer, much less three. Really, how do you quaff 96 ounces of anything in less than 3 hours? I tell you, it really puts the fear of god in you when you see people chugging the last of their 3rd tub of alcohol, then go fishing for their car keys. Look. If you're too drunk to find your pocket, then you're waaay to drunk. Oh, yes... and where are the police? Directing traffic.
I do understand, we have a couple hundred cops for the whole city, and when the game is over, you have 30,000+ people heading for home. It must be a strategic nightmare. However, I firmly believe in personal responsibility. If you're driving your family home, stay sober! If the whole clan wants to drink, watch the game on TV.

Along the lines of having no tact whatsoever- When they sing the national anthem, take off your hat, please. When the 7th inning stretch is over, sit down. Please,please,please, remember that you're moving the population of a large town into the stadium, so have your tickets ready and don't jump in the line. Hold onto your children. Personal space does not mean spread three people out across the whole ramp and walk slowly, thank you so much.

I'd like to thank Vin Diesel for bringing back the Kojak look. It's a great way to hide the fact that you're balding. We had 2 sitting near enough that we could see their scalp-stubble. They both had cute little sunglasses perched on their stubbly heads. I also got to re-live the nightmare of bad clothing from my youth. Skin tight jeans and a cute little tank top have their place. Their place is not on a middle aged woman in a size 28. If I can see your cellulite through your jeans, I'm going to be embarrased for you.

I probably sound really pissed about my experience at the stadium, but that's not so. I had a very good time, and I found it all really amusing. People watching can be a blast. People listening is fabu too. We had a guy behind us on his cell phone, trying to find a friend in the stadium. They both kept standing up and waving, saying, "Can you see me? Where are you?" See, I'd just ask them to meet me at one of the notable food stands and be done with it.

One sad final note, the saxophone player who stands at the exit and plays the theme song from the Simpsons was not there that night, so we missed out on hearing him.

So I'm sitting here (on the group W bench) fighting a fever-throat-tummy virus, and it would be rude for me to spread it around at R's bbq, and I'm thinking.
Here's what's passing through my mind:
I love my house.
I love my roomie and her fabu cats.
I love my hubby, and I'm glad he's geeking out with JB today, it's good for him.
I love my son. I could fill this blog with things I admire about him.
It is a beautiful day today, perfect for yardwork, and boy- do I have a list.
The ibuprofen and peppermint combo is working great for the headache.

Ain't it great to be sick, but still in a good mood? Yay!

Would ya like to take a survey?
I LOVE TO... spend time with my friends, blog, fart around with art, and learn!

I MISS... being 12, when the world glows and you don't have arthritis anywhere

I HAVE... everything I have ever wanted.

I REGRET... Wendy

I FEAR... Heights and spidies -Bad fate! No!

I WONDER... about everything.

I WISH... I could heal the world. I wish I could heal myself *wink*

I HOPE... for a wonderful life for my children.

I'M ANNOYED BY... stupid people, George DubYa and crazy drivers. (heh, didn't ned to change that one.)

I WANT TO BE... young in body and spirit.

I WILL NEVER... grow up all the way.

I WILL ALWAYS BE.... free to make my own choices.

I LIKE... great conversations and good coffee.

When was the last time you:

CRIED? When I wrote "The sad story of Mr. Brown" on randomredhead.

WHY? because lost innocence hurts.

ATE PIZZA? 8 days ago. Yum.

BOUGHT SOMETHING? yesterday. Sally beauty supply rocks!

WORE A SKIRT? the 22nd. My sis took me out for dinner, and I got to see her new baby. So cute!

WERE SARCASTIC? heh. Daily.

SAW A MOVIE? Last Saturday -saw Xmen 2, and loved it.

FELT STUPID? just a little stupid? pretty much daily. Really stupid? 1989 at a party surrounded by IGPSers iscussing quantum physics. Then I read up on quantum physics.

WATCHED YOUR FAVORITE MOVIE? A couple of weeks or so.

TALKED TO YOUR SWEETIE? A few minutes ago. (smootch)

HAD A SERIOUS TALK? Wednesday, with L, about demerits. Ahhh, motherhood.

MISSED SOMEONE? Wednesday. Everybody was gone, it was just me and my heart. Beh.

HUGGED SOMEONE? last night at bedtime -for them, not me. I went to bed last. muahahaha

HAD A NIGHTMARE? Nightmares are just panic attacks while you're sleeping. I had one in December.

FOUGHT WITH YOUR PARENTS? many many years, but my dad has a big one coming if he steps into my life again

DANCED? A few days ago, while cleaning house.

Last Things:

Last thing you read: The ingredients on my new shampoo.

Last phone number you called: Persephone. Sorry, you can't have her number.

Last show you watched on TV: Wild Dicovery, it was about tigers.

Last song you heard: I will survive -Gloria Gaynor

Last words you said: "What did we watch on tv this morning?"

Do you...

Have a dream that keeps coming back? yes. They come back until they come true, or until I get the message.

Consider yourself tolerant of others? yes -usually.

Consider police a friend or foe? Friend.

Like the taste of alcohol? Absolutely. But not beer.

My friends already know all this stuff, you feel free to skip this entry. Before you do, though, thank you thank you thank you for being there for me.
Ok. I have Mitral Valve Prolapse and it's driving me up a wall. When this condition gets really bad, I tend to shut up and not tell anyone. I'm sitting here with a holter monitor taped to my chest, it's 10:40 at night, and my heart has been fluttering for almost an hour. Right now I'm furious that my doctor can't find my MVP. I'm furious that I've been living with this shit for ever. Well, I'm just furious, damnit.
I know this tooth-grinding anger is really just another symptom of my MVP. I'm all alone in the house, and I can't get a grip on my anger. It's exactly like a panic attack, except I'm mad instead of anxious. I've been looking on the net, and I'm going to ask Dr. Pozzi for some anti-anxiety meds. I hate taking pills, and I feel I don't know nearly enough about selective seratonin re-uptake inhibitors. Does anyone know the long term effects of taking them? At times like this I just wish I could be normal. I like my life, I love who I am most of the time. I'm usually happy and (as an added bonus, if you order in the next 15 minutes) I get to have a nifty "special" condition that makes me unique once in a while. As the MadMan would say, it's all gravy!
I found a survey for MVP sufferers. The majority say palpitations are their most bothersome symptoms, closely followed by anxiety. I can totally agree with that. 54% see a general practitioner, and 51% say their doc is only somewhat supportive of them. I'm not alone!
Anyway, I'm not in a good space right now. I know I'll get over it by morning. I'm going to lie down and meditate. Of all the things I've tried meditation is the only one that's really effective. It's this blasted monitor that's freaking me out. I've been stressing all day, "Will they find something this time? Am I a hypochondriac? Will I get a good MVP attack to show up on the monitor? Am I now going to have to take 50 billion western medicine pills to mask my condition? Is there anything out there to just stop this?"
It's a pretty ugly endless loop, eh? Most of the time I get a few uncomfortable moments a day, no biggie, moving on with my life. You know? Usually when I get a panic attack, I run an internal mantra of, "It's just your brain being whacky, it'll pass in a few minutes. It'll pass. It'll pass...No-one is going to break in, the house is not catching fire, everybody is still breathing..." I'll count seconds or listen to my hubby breathing, anything to pass the time until my adrenaline gets back to normal. It's all part and parcel of my life. If I didn't have these challenges, I'd have others. We choose our problems for the gifts they can give us. When I have a string of bad days like this, I sometimes forget that. When I started this post, I was ready to give up. Like a little kid playing a game, "Do over!"
I'm not out of this game yet, damnit! This is my fucking life, and I'm not quitting over a paltry rapid heartbeat and some stress. All things pass with time, and this too will change to the usual rainbows and sunshine that my life is. I am not broken, I am not poor, I am not helpless. I can see, and taste, and smell, and hear, and touch other's lives and awaken them to the beauty of it all. I've been trying to fix everyone else, and this is just my body's way of saying, "enough."
My roomie is home, so I'm gonna go upstairs and meditate this shit away.

Yesterday, net-bouncing brought me to this tipping guide. It's pretty good... however... I live in the midwest. Here at the home of the Gateway Arch, cab drivers do not open your door or get your luggage. They pull up near your house and honk. Why should I tip them? What personal service has my cabbie provided?
On the flip side, when I go to a coffee house and ask for a mocha cappucchino with an extra shot, (and I mean cappucchino, not latte, I want foam in my cup stiff enough to hold a spoon) I tip generously. Yes, I'm only requesting that the barista do their job properly, but it seems like St. Louis baristas can't get a grip on 'mocha' and 'cappucchino' together as a drink. They just assume I meant latte, and I don't know what I'm talking about. I would ask for something even weirder, like english toffee and bananna, but I've just kinda lost my faith here.
I'm a nice person, so my order usually goes like this- "Can I get a mocha, but as a cappucchino? With an extra shot please? I really love foam." They'll make my drink and ask, "Ya want whipped cream on top?" (of the latte they just made for me) Thank you, no. I just want a buttload of foam. I don't need 2 tons of milk to water down my espresso with. If it were up to me, I'd mix the chocolate right in with the espresso and just pile on the froth on top. That's really all the milk I want.
I loved working as a barista at The Mudd Room. I could make my espresso any way I wanted. I'm still trying to save up for a real espresso machine for my home.

My pre-rant point was this- When someone gives you a personal service, or goes above and beyond their standard duties in servicing your request, you tip them. When a cab driver honks for you 3 houses away, you stiff him/her.

oooh, I almost forgot. Profound expressions of gratitude to all my friends for being so very supportive of me, especially when each and every one of them has their own mountain of worries. Persephone, who took me in when I needed shelter from my own fears, thank you! Chasmyn, who gave to me in her greatest time of need, I love you! A, who comes home out of the blue and teaches me how to get out of my head, you're priceless!
I love you all!

I believe I have drawn enough chaos to me and my loved ones now. Thank you Universe for the crazy drivers, the heart palpitations, the stressed-out children, the near-miss with our bank account and the flooding of the downstairs bathroom. I really appreciate the heads-up you've sent me. I've gotten the message, and I hope you're done now, because we're getting the tree taken out this week, and I can see how that's a big opportunity for chaos.
We're good people, and we're fully insured. There's lots of love and nothing is overwhelming. So... thanks again for the gifts you've sent me, Universe, I cherish all of them.

Read some news on the internet...sigh. So here's my activism du jour.
If you like drinking your American fluoridated water, then don't look at this picture.
Fluoride is a by product of smelting aluminium. (among other things) Back in the 50's the U.S. didn't have the technology to remove it from our water system, so they spread the word that "Fluoride is good for you!" Lots of your hard earned tax dollars went toward this propaganda. It is true that fluoride bonds to your teeth (and bones), because that's what fluoride does. It bonds to calcium, aluminium or magnesium, and starts making little square crystals. It took Google 0.12 seconds to find 16,900 pages about fluoride poisoning. Here's how to treat it.
New-agers believe Fluorite (calcium fluoride in crystalline form) helps you astral project by separating your soul from your physical body. Gee... and here I thought Americans were spacey from too much TV.
For information on Fluoride as a mineral, and what it is manufactured into, look on the net or go here.
Just one more note. Fluorite is no longer mined in the U.S. for production purposes, but we use stuff it's made of every day.

This morning, I masterfully ignored the opportunity to expose my son to violence, thank you very much. But damn, it was tough!
I'm driving L to school, like I always do on weekdays, when this car comes down the suicide lane on Grand Avenue and slides into the gap between me and the car in front of me.
Right. We're all going 40 mph in a 30 mph zone, what made her think jumping in front of me would get her there any sooner? She didn't use her blinker, so I gave her the finger, and forgot about the whole thing.
She then taps her brakes for no good reason. Clearly, there's an erratic nutball in front of me, I think I'll give her some room... I slow down to 38. She taps the brakes again. Whatever, there's more than a full car length between me and miss pissy ahead of me, she can tap her brakes all she wants. (I did get that there was a dangerous person in front of me, and I was actually spending a lot of synapse power on making sure nothing happened)
My left turn is coming up, so I hit my turn signal and get into the suicide/turn lane. Bitch in front of me quickly swerves into my lane like she's going to hit me.
I had a wonderful moment of clarity where I could see my future splitting onto 2 paths. Path 1, I run this bitch down, slamming her car repeatedly with my truck then start ripping her hair out. Path 2, I get my son to school on time. I decided to get L to school on time. For a moment, I had my fiery red-head temper back, and once again I gave it up as a luxury I could not afford. I know I made the right choice, but I wish I knew what was going on with that woman today. I see her car almost every day, you see. We drive the same route at about the same time. We frequently share the road. Sometimes she's in front, sometimes I am, and we've never had a conflict before.
I wonder what's going on in my head that had me draw that aggression to me?
Ah, well. Movin' on.

Happy Mother's Day
Wishing peace and strength to all the Moms out there.

I just finished reading 16 posts from Salam Pax, and whew...what a read. I remember sitting on my comfy American butt, flipping through news channels, thinking of this stranger in Baghdad. Salam Pax was my one tenuous link to what might be going on over there.
Tonight I read about how he couldn't buy water, because looters had broken into the mint and stolen wads of cash, plus the plates and paper to make more. How many people hoarded their Dinars preparing for this war, only to have them rendered useless because the American military sat and watched a few ruthless thieves instead of stopping them? How do you get an American soldier to do something about the looting before his eyes? (no kidding) You run in front of the tank shouting "Ali Baba! Ali Baba!" -sigh
The good news is that my link-across-the-world is alive and his family appears to be intact. I can't imagine what he's going through, but his words are incredibly vivid. He's a voice in the wilderness, shouting out the injustices of all the parties involved, and I pray for his well-being.

Good Lord. I was over at Persephone's house tonight and a drunken dispute broke out on the street. It's almost like the things I'm dumping in Random Redhead are coming back to haunt me. re: drunk watching
I can see it now... "Fat drunk vs. Thirteen year old troublemaker" Who will win? Will the cops make it in time?? Will fat guy come back with a gun??? Will thirteen year old come back with friends???? Tune in tomorrow for the next exciting adventure!
I love Hoosiers. They keep the world interesting.

There is a tremendous thunderstorm outside right now. It sounds like the Gods are moving furniture across a hardwood floor.
I love it!
I think the storm might give me the energy I need to finish the ridiculous task I've set myself. You would think, with the abundance of Catholic schools in St. Louis, someone would offer some navy blue school shorts, right? Yeah. Walmart carries school shorts in every color except blue. Their blue ones have cargo pockets. Target doesn't carry school uniforms anymore, and Value City only offers them in the fall. JC Penney? Old Navy? Famous Barr? All were a bust.
Last year, I finally spent $50 on official school shorts from Catholic Supply. I bought 2 pair.
I have a 12 year old boy. I never know what size he'll be at the end of the year. I can't waste money on clothes that don't fit, even if I could find them. (sigh) The herculean task I've set myself is to cut off a few pairs of pants and hand sew the new hem. It's my hope that his waist won't get too much bigger over the summer, and he can wear them next year too.
Kudo's to Persephone who borrowed Chasmyn's sewing machine, and did the job for me 2 years ago. He's still trying to squeeze into the size 10 slims she whipped out in mere seconds. Lord knows what he did with the $25 size 12's he should be wearing.
On a side note, the storm is so strong, my typing was interrupted to deal with the water dribbling in around the fuse box. That was a first! I think we'll be re-sealing around the house tomorrow. :)

I also had lots of good stuff happen today. We got the sofa out to the trash, and Burkes Tree and Landscaping called and dropped their bid on the tree. They'll take it out for $750 if we let them haul off the wood. They found someone who wants it. Yay! That's a $200 drop! They also bid a paltry $150 for stump grinding, so I might get my apple tree sooner than I had planned.

I'm having a very good time being weird tonight. Did you know that a google search reveals:
702 "people who love cats"
yet there are no "people who love walrus"
There is only one "shoeless neighbor" out there.
and only 456 "shoe fetishist"
2 people make reference to a "flour fetish"
ew. let's just say random fetish searches took me places I never needed to go, ok?
"banana wind" reveals 2,070 references including these two- "Banana Wind is an island term...a wind not as dangerous
as a hurricane but strong enough to blow bananas off the trees. ..." and (you'll love this) "Banana Wind is one of the newest luxury villas in Anguilla conveniently located on the south central coast of this exclusive, tropical paradise. ...
Description: Contemporary style 3000 foot villa built on almost 200 feet of ocean front property."
Wow! Somebody really did their research before naming that one...heh.
"kidney teeth" gets 19 hits
and there's actually a site out there that makes reference to a "peep of doom"
there is no gurgle of doom, nor is there a burble of doom. Apparently, DOOM does not creak or gasp, either.

yep. It's time for bed. I'm too weird for the internet, and that's saying a lot!

Meditation of the Week
This is an intensive soul search meditation. I tip my hat to Jon, who taught me this meditation ages ago. I haven't forgotten, Jon!

I used to start this meditation as I was going to sleep, consequently it took forever to get to the end. Jon wouldn't tell me how it ended, he always said, "You'll know."
I took the meditation farther than he had expected, and when I finished my soul search, I knew. I traced all the way back to my creation. Don't feel like you have to go that far.
Take it as far as you need to. You'll know when you're done.
There's a part of you that sits in you head and watches everything, right?
Start by noticing the you that sits and judges everything, holding up scorecards for your actions, or critiquing like life is a movie.
So there you are, looking out of your eyes. Your eyes are windows. Step back from those windows and turn around.
You're in an attic. This is where you store stuff. You may have boxes neatly labeled or clutter scattered haphazardly about. Maybe there's some cobwebs, or your grandma's old piano. Somewhere in this attic is a way down to the next floor.
Hang out in your head/attic if you need to. (that in and of itself is a good meditation to do when your thoughts are in disarray) When you're ready, find the exit and head down to the next level. You're in a house, and the house is your body. There are rooms and stairways and decorations and things. You can explore the rooms, or keep going, it's up to you.
Eventually, you will come to a door that is unlike any other. When you're ready, go through the special door. This door does not lead to another room in your house. It leads to somewhere else.

Give it a try. I'll tell you where my door led, if you go look through yours first.
-Sharon