Mr. Smith Goes to Heaven

Last year we had a guy who spit at an umpire during a heated athletic event. This past winter we had guy kick a cameraman in a rather sensitive area of his anatomy. Now this past week we had a guy bite off the ear of his opponent. Seems like things are escalating and we need to get back under control a bit. So here is my proposal: during the next heated moment of my next softball game, just when things are the most tense I will go over to the opponent and plant a little wet love kiss upon their cheek. It's the least I can do... And with my new found sensitivity comes more of a willingness, a need to open up and express myself. So with that in mind here are a few pages from my diary:

Sunday, June 29: One eye opens to what appears to be early morning, what with the darkness from the gray cloudy skies but I can tell by my grogginess it has to be closer to sometime around mid-morn. I decide to sleep for a bit more and when both eyes finally open and I get up to take a glance at the alarm clock, it is now 11:30. I quickly scramble out of bed, cursing myself for sleeping the day away. I glance through the newspaper to read about the big fight the night before. I am stunned to see that biting had been involved. I arrive at Landfill to make copies of the newsletter. There is no paper to be found other than colored paper and three hole punched paper. I throw in a ream of the three hole punched stuff which along with the humidity causes the machine to jam every few copies. Soon I get the error message to call the serviceperson. Cursing my decision and the result of that decision I head to Kinkos to finish up.

Monday, June 30: To celebrate the Hong Kong exchange from the British to the Chinese, I decide to mow my lawn in what feels like weather straight from Manila. Knowing that it was supposed to rain tomorrow night, and that I had a softball game Wednesday, I decide to do the chore before it got too long. Besides I like the look and smell of fresh cut grass. Hot and humid, by the time I finish up I'm tired and drenched. I get back inside in time to watch the final few innings of the Twins-St. Louis game. Eck strikes out Knobby. Only in America.

Tuesday, July 1: I have dinner at Ma and Pa's, and settle back to watch the second Twins-St. Louis battle. I end up instead watching the constant weather update interruptions. The sky gets ominously darker and the wind whips up and with what the radar is telling the news people, the whole city is in danger of blowing away. As the color intensity of the blobs on the radar screen are closing in on St. Paul, things start to get a bit eerie. Then the rain exploded with a mighty crash. My thoughts go out to little kitty back home all alone. He tends to get a little worked up when storms arrive. The clouds finally pass over and as I head home I try to gauge the severity of the aftermath as I get closer to my house. I see some trees down, and there is a powerline down at the entry of the alley to my garage. I maneuver my way past that only to see a massive puddle in the middle of the alley before my garage. I gun my car through that just as another downpour lets go. I hustle from my detached garage to my house, greeted by the frightened bellow from Max. I survey the kitchen, living room and bedroom of the stuffy interior notice no damage and head toward the basement. I see a small stream of water spiraling down toward the drainage area. Along the walls are puddles of water. I begin the mop up process while Max investigates further. I finally tell him to go upstairs as he is making the cleanup more difficult. When I finish up with the mopping, I walk up the stairs and step in a nice little pile of fresh cat vomit. Tired, cranky, and concerned that my house will float away by the end of the night, I go to bed.

Wednesday, July 2: My performance review at work. No Kleenex are necessary as my boss seems to think I'm doing fine. Then I come back to my desk to find out I am responsible for Jimmy Stewart's death. Last week when Brian Keith died I said to my mom, "I wonder how Jimmy Stewart is doing. (He was one of mom's favorite actors). You never hear about him anymore..." The Roundheads lose another softball game, I play poorly and pull a groin muscle. I only wish it had been my own... I get home and notice my lawn what with its massive soaking, could probably use another mowing as I open the door to a familiar meowing. Yet another week gone by...