If I'm Dreaming... Please Don't Wake Me Up

55-25.

Let me type that again.

55-25.

With today's win, the Tigers have hit the halfway mark. At 55-25, they are 30 games (!) above .500 which is rockin' enough, but even more significant, for this girl who lived and breathed the '84 season... they've now matched pace with the Bless You Boys.

It makes me honest-to-god weepy, how much I love this team. Detroit baseball is BACK. And like all the great teams in our history, now they have a song!

Who's Your Tiger?

Put Me In, Coach

It's happened. I knew it would, eventually, but I didn't expect it would be today. And I didn't expect it would be the mailman.

I have been discovered.

Not whilst sipping a soda like Lana Turner at Schwab's, more like... oh the hubris of even making the comparison... ah what the hell. Like Honus Wagner (greatest shortstop ever for those of you who aren't baseball fans) throwing rocks across a trainyard. Signed on the spot he was. But in my case, it wasn't rocks, it was an actual baseball, and it wasn't a trainyard but instead the sidewalk in front of our house during my near-daily catches with Nathan.

You see... I have some mad baseball skillz that are readily apparent to anyone with eyes and a brain. Or at least to my mailman, who is recruiting more women for his postal service softball team. And damn it, that's good enough for me. When he said "Would you?" I of course said, "Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!" In retrospect, I think that scared him a bit, but I'm sure as he reflects on it he'll realize it was simple heartfelt enthusiam and love of the game.

I have dreams - oh, I have dreams. I'll certainly play shortstop, turn double-plays with ease, bat solidly near the middle of the lineup, and be carried off the field on the shoulders of my grateful teammates as I'm unanimously voted MVP after we win the leaugue championship. Pitchers will fear me. Batters will curse my fielding prowess. Players from other teams will try to woo me away (And other teams, if you're reading, let me nip that one in the bud. These people are postal workers. We don't want to piss them off, mmmkay?)

I hope we get uniforms. I'll wear high socks. High socks look SO cool.

The time is at hand. The world... erm... greater Seattle area is ready.

I will... I will rock you.

Happy Bloomsday!

Damn. Yet another year has gone by without me organizing my Bloomsday reading of Ulysses. One of these years, I will put out the call to any Seattle folk who would like to get together to read the book from start to finish. I did it only once, in college, and it was a very cool experience.

That's horribly English major geeky, isn't it?

yes I said yes it is Yes.

Blognnui No More

Someone really needs to update this blog, don't you think?

I see.

I guess since noone else is stepping up to the plate, it's all mine.

I honestly have no good excuse for the lack of time spent here, the lack of time spent writing PERIOD. Are things busy? Yeah, sure, what's new? Has *nothing* of note happened for the last few months? Well of course it has - there's been plenty to write about, several posts started and abandoned. I traveled to Peru, got my own monthly byline, was horrified by a massacre that happened at a house I know and love, watched my Tigers get off to an amazing start. My kids' baseball seasons have come and gone (Nathan's team made it all the way to the championship game before losing in a nailbiter), and we're just one week from the end of their school year. BJ and Tyler won the Amazing Race (TTOW!). My work-life has changed and more changes are on the horizon, my friends are having babies, and I watched a bear eat roadside dandelions at twilight.

Don't even get me started on politics.

So much prime blog fodder, the details now slipping into the muddled soup of the past, the emotions dampened, the edges blurred. Baby, once it's gone it's gone, gone all the way gone.

I saw Peter Mulvey last week at the Tractor, and as always happens with good music, and with Peter's in particular, I felt alive and smarter and desperate to make more of my time here, to create something that means something. I want to travel, to experience new places and people and things. I want to make beautiful things. I want to stop spinning all the time and to be where I am, not where I was or where I want to be.

So with two feet, I jump in here again and promise myself to let go of the guilt of the stories I missed telling. Grab the now and go.

Because these days it's all about the monkeys.