Signs of the Apocalypse

(You must know going into to reading this post that I’m something of an obsessively fanatical baseball fan…..)

Yes. It is end of days. Here is proof.

1) I am about to quote from and *agree with* something printed in the Los Angeles Times. : shudder :

2) I am about to defend Yankees player Alex Rodriguez : shudder shudder shudder :

In reading ABQjournal columnist Jim Belshaw’s blog, he pointed to this article.

LA Times columnist Bill Plaschke opines about the state of “baseball etiquette” these days.

He points to a recent incident. I’ll quote this article from the New York times for the details.

“The Yankees were leading the Toronto Blue Jays by two runs in an eventual 10-5 victory when Jorge Posada lifted a lazy fly ball to third base with two outs in the top of the ninth inning. Third baseman Howie Clark camped under it, but he backed off just after Rodriguez ran slowly past him.

Rodriguez said he shouted “Ha” as he passed Clark, who was fooled into thinking that the shortstop, John McDonald, had called for the ball. When Clark backed away, the ball dropped safely onto the turf for a run-scoring single.”

The Blue Jays are ALL KINDS of fired up. Saying Alex is a poor sport (and worse). Saying what he did is “bush league”.

To quote the venerable Mike Krukow, well known announcer and former pitcher for the San Francisco Giants, “any pitch that makes it across the plate for a strike is a good pitch”. Which is sort of a variation on “it’s better to be lucky than to be good” which is what I think happened here with ARod. It was buffoonish, yes.

But it worked.

It was FAR FAR more acceptable and less against the rules than the “bitch slap heard ’round the world” from the 2004 ALCS when Alex tried to strip the ball out of Bronson Arroyo’s glove.

Ok, so he employed a little leaguer tactic.

But it worked.

And worked well. Giambi came up next and got two more runs in. And the ailing Yankees won a game after a five game slide.

It worked. It’s not against the rules. So there.

Meanwhile the Blue Jays continue to cry like little girls. If I was a Blue Jays fan I would probably be freaking OUTRAGED and calling for ARod’s head and generally crying like a little girl.

But I have to agree with all of this quote from Bill Plaschke:

“I feel major league baseball has become a league of extraordinary babies.

It’s rude to pitch inside. It’s impolite to jog slowly around the bases after a home run. It’s unseemly to steal second with a four-run lead. Don’t you dare bunt in the eighth inning of a potential no-hitter.

And, apparently, never try to distract a player trying to catch a fly ball.”

Yep. There are a lot of unwritten rules in the game. But I agree that sometimes this stuff gets out of hand. Some of these “unwritten rules” are what make the game great. But some of them are also starting to tear it down.

Maybe it’s time to hearken back to little league games where you hear “heeeey batta batta” from the outfield. Maybe these guys making multi-kabillions of dollars need to lighten up and have a little fun again. I know it’s their jobs, but it’s also the national pastime.

Meanwhile, the Yanks are still 13.5 games out of first. The Blue Jays are ahead of them in the race and the Blue Jays took the series 2-1. So what do they have to carp about?

Meanwhile, I’m enjoying watching the fall of the mighty Yankee empire……if my team has to suck, they can too……

By the way, for the record, I agree with everything in Bill Plaschke’s column except for anything said by Tommy Lasorda….I can’t condone anything out of that piece of………..

Happy Friday, folks!

“But teacher! He was *mean*!”

Post Memorial Day Blues

So. Tomorrow is June. June! Already!!!!

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Good lard, we just had the nice three-day weekend that was Memorial Day. We didn’t do much, which was just what we wanted. Here in the post-holiday week I’m still about a half tick off level regarding getting back to work.

I….I just can’t be bothered.

The sun is…OUT.

The grass is GREEN!

The ocean sings to me!

Why dear god why do I have to be a grown up and WORK?!?!?!?!

*grumble*

I did wear shorts to work yesterday. Nice shorts, fit for work type shorts, but still…shorts.

My one teeny bit of rebellion.

And now I shall begin to count the days until my next day off…which appears to be July 4th.

Until then, I remain…..

Misty Soot and Cinder Colored Memories

Yesterday I talked a bit about sort of growing up in “rough” circumstances. Today, over this memorial weekend, I find myself lost in a few memories.

Perusing the ABQjournal today, I came across an article titled “Cumbres & Toltec Railroad Ready to Roll This Weekend”.

And it brought a smile of memory to my face.

This is one of those “good” times from childhood, one of those places I can go and touch in my mind when things get tough. When I need a place to escape.

My dad, type A until his body couldn’t support it anymore, did love to take his family out on trips. He loved to go camping, road trips, up in the mountains, and to go see cool things that appealed to his engineering sensibilities.

One of the many trips we went on was to ride the Cumbres &Toltec Railroad. I don’t have a lot of memories from childhood, but tatters show up here and there.

One clear memory I have is being in Chama. We’d driven up there the day before, found some campground somewhere (this part is fuzzy). Dad set up our Apache Pop Up Trailer (that link shows a photo of one *exactly* like the one we had, tho ours was in better condition), the kind with the hand crank, and we spent the night. (I always had to sleep with my sister (bah!) on one end, my folks on the other, my brother in the table-converts-to-a-bed in the middle)

Then of course, we had to get up at the buttcrack of dawn to go catch the train. Dad would roust us out with his old fashioned values which included that sleeping in was a sin.

I recall drinking warm Carnation Instant Breakfast from a Styrofoam cup while we stood around in the freezing cold outside the ticket office in Chama, tickets in hand ready to take the ride.

I checked the schedule page and the earliest train now leaves at 10:00am, but I’m pretty sure we took off way earlier than that. We did the Chama to Antonito and back route.

It was one of those grumblies in the morning, but once we got going on the narrow gauge rail, I was INTO it. Great quote from a Jetsetters Magazine article “Aspen leaves dance in the glittering afternoon sunlight and the train makes a rhythmic, confident, ca-chunk, ca-chunk, ca-chunk sound, as if to say, I’m a train that knows what I’m doing.” Perfect description.

This ancient train chugging up a hill. Beautiful scenery all around, mountains, trees, green. I’d lean my head out the glassless window to take it all in and get a face full of soot for my trouble.

As the rails curve and turn up the climb, you can look back at the caboose or forward and see the engine chugging along.

About halfway through, I begged my mom for money for snacks and purchased some awful junk foodie treat. Beef jerky and Funyuns I believe.

We arrived in Antonito, Colorado grimy but happy. Antonito itself is little more than a touristy place high in the mountains. We shopped while my dad and brother explored. I’m sure my lifelong love of tchochkies overtook me and I spent hard earned allowance on items imprinted with names and places. I know that I did but couldn’t tell you what. The clearest memories are the morning, the cold, and being on the train. All the rest is a haze.

But I do remember it was one of those trips where my family acted like a family. We all enjoyed each other’s company. My parents aired out their three children, exposed them to the outdoors and gave them something to learn about.

And a happy memory, one that makes me smile. It’s what I’ll choose to hold onto this Memorial Day weekend.

***Many thanks to Jetsetters Magazine for providing me photos and memories. Many of the shots linked on this page look pretty much like the ones still stuck in a photo album that I took with my Kodak Flip Flash Camera.

Update: I pulled out the old photo album with the FlipFlash photos….August 1978 *coff*. That’s when this went down…nearly twenty *coff* years ago…..*coff*

Fascinating stuff

Reported today in the ABQjournal, article entitled “Lean to the Left? It May Be Mommy’s Fault”. From the text of the article, it’s not just mommy but mommy AND daddy who are to blame for baby’s voting behavior.

This is one of those articles I’d love to clip and send to my dear, sadly deceased, incredibly conservative dad who was often baffled by his left leaning youngest. I guess I’m not entirely liberal. There are some issues about which I’m incredibly conservative, others I’m about as far to the left as you can get. All told, if I had to take a stab at putting my political leanings neatly into a box, I’d self-report I was “liberal”.

And I certainly fit the bounds of the study detailed in the article. I had sort of a rough upbringing. Nothing more crazy than a lot of folks dealt with. My parents were still married, so I didn’t have divorce in the background, but things were tough and true to the study, I came out of the thing fairly liberal.

I think the study is interesting if a little shortsighted. I’m sure that the issue of conservative vs liberal is a lot more complex than just one contributing factor.

It doesn’t take into account things like….up to about my mid 20’s, I was quite conservative. Hell, I even voted for Bush Sr. Twice.

In my late 20’s a lot changed. The first time I voted anything other than Republican I felt….naughty. Like I was a bad child and letting my folks down….

Now I just feel like I’ll vote for whoever in the hell from whichever the hell party seems like less of a weiner, which is getting a lot harder to tell these days…..

But the study is interesting, if entertaining.

Meanwhile, off to begin enjoying my Memorial Day weekend. Wishing all a happy, safe and fun long weekend!

Paging my mother…..

Dear ol’ Mom.

Ten years ago I moved to the Bay Area. In fact, almost ten years exactly. It was Memorial Day 1997.

When I told my mom I was moving, like most good moms, she was *none* too pleased that her youngest was heading to far flung places. And like the good New Mexican woman that she is, she spat the word “California” as if it tasted bad.

Mom is a natural born worrier. Her dad was a worrier. She’s a worrier. I *might* have to own up to a bit of the worry myself, but not to that level. I’m a rank amateur in the field of worry compared to her.

So of course, two things just *killed* her about me moving to the San Francisco Bay Area.

Bridges and Earthquakes.

“Why would you move somewhere so dangerous,” she asked, tartly and with conviction.

I reminded her that New Mexico has tornados.

She was not swayed.

“Look what happened when that bridge collapsed!” she reasoned.

I reminded her that New Mexico has flooding.

She was not amused.

“I can’t understand why anyone would want to live where there are so many people!” she shouted.

I reminded here that where she lived in Belen, they had Bosque fires every year.

She glared at me.

Should I send her this link to this blog in the ABQjournal entitled “The Big One”?

Seems a 3.3 earthquake hit Soccoro.

As a now veteran of the Bay Area, I can say that a 3.3 is a “teacup rattler” and not much more.

“A Socorro city councilor told 770 KKOB Radio this morning that it was enough to knock him out of bed”

I highly doubt that. I was in a 3.5. It rattled the front door in its frame like someone was struggling to get in, and gave me a good jiggle, but my heinie stayed firmly planted on the couch. The good councilor must sleep on the edge of the bed…that’s all I’ve got to say.

So shall I remind Moms that they have earthquakes in New Mexico, too? Or is it still too close to Mom’s Day to “go there”???

*smirk*