MONDAY...
— Day shift. First time I’m in for a week of days since June. Do okay... not too tired but needing the breaks when they come to go out for some fresh air.
— An hour evening walk. And I don’t much like those. It felt like walking through the mall with cars everywhere and people walking dogs and kids left, right and centre. The second half of the hour was better as the sun went down and darkness shoos people away. I’ll have to aim for a bit later in the evening next time.
TUESDAY...
— Sleep a bit better than last night but am more tired at work. I need to even get up and walk around from time to time.
— Humid day. Felt like about 35 degrees. Still walk with Melissa at breaks though.
— No walk tonight. I talk to Karl on the phone and work on my list for the hockey pool instead. Plus I thought it was going to rain at anytime. I didn’t want to be two kilometres from home and stuck in a thunder storm.
WEDNESDAY...
— Awake, pretty much for good, at 3:50 this morning. My return to day shift takes a bump.
— Work is tough with the sleepiness. Lunch with Melissa, Megan, Leslie and Casey at the cafeteria.
— 45 minute nap after work. Then some cleaning around the house to end the day.
THURSDAY...
— Tired at work. I sleep better last night but still, I guess after several days of less sleep and being active in the morning for the first time in months, it’s catching up.
— Few groceries and finish the cleaning after work. So no walk again tonight. It’s grey and wet anyway, so not ideal walk weather... spick and span house though.
— My stolen blue recycling box has been found. Good thing with day shift, I can be there pretty well as soon as the boxes have been emptied... and there my old one was!
FRIDAY...
— Work is work. The hockey pool is drafted afterwards. I pick 5th out of 12 and am happy with my team. It should go places.
— To my house for a party afterwards. Fewer go than are hoped. Linda, Sheila, Nick, Devin, Janice are there for the evening... Melissa for a short time. Still a fun time with pizza and 1972 Canada vs. USSR hockey on DVD. But I have way to much junk food left in the house after they’re gone.
SATURDAY...
— I’m getting so tired of hearing hockey experts constantly talking about “The New NHL”. The ‘new’ NHL is starting it’s third season now. It’s no longer new... move on! That said... I’d like to see a ‘new’ NHL... one without the stupid shoot-out... that only uses wooden sticks... and outlaws football type, bulletproof equipment.
— Watch the first game of the year. From Merry ol’ England it’s LA and Anaheim. Not a special game but it is hockey.
— An hour walk at midnight tonight. Once again, liking the late.
Things Have Changed
A week of changes. Much has changed... or is in the process of changing through this week.
The hockey season is here again. On Friday, we get together to draft the office hockey pool. Barring injury problems again (cause my team last year was beat up) I should do good. Draft day is usually a bit of fun. Sitting with people you enjoy, discussing a sport that we’re all in to. Making fun of each other for picking one guy we had no intention of going after... cursing each other for picking another that we were about to draft ourselves.
I’m often at drafts thinking back to past pool drafts. Some where you’d pick players in turn... others where you’d bid on each player in an auction format. A favourite memory is of a draft some fifteen years ago. Having Blair, a friend who can tend to be a little ready to think the worst, throw out the name of a particular defencemen. And around the table it went... and nobody else entered on the bidding. “Nope”, “na”, “Not me”, “take him Blair”.
Blair looks around nervously... “what’s the matter with him boys?”
“Oh nothing,” says one. “Nothing at all,” claims another. Unable to resist, I pipe up... “Funeral’s on Wednesday Blair.”
Blair’s mouth drops. “Let me pick someone else!” We had to then assure Blair that the player was indeed still alive... although I don’t think he lasted the full season on Blair’s roster.
And hockey games came back to TV this week. Saturday and Sunday in England. Leave it to the NHL to start the season gimmicky. England being a hockey power as it is. But I could help watching yesterday and wondering if a London based NHL team would be good. The stadium seemed fine... and the atmosphere was good. Maybe a European division isn’t so far fetched? But I really don’t want five or six more teams in the league. Let’s just move Nashville, Atlanta, Anaheim, Florida, Carolina, Columbus, and Phoenix. They could be London, Stockholm, Berlin, Moscow, Prague, Helsinki, and Vienna.
In other changes...
Baseball is ending. Now comes the playoffs. I love baseball playoffs. There’s added intensity to the games and, every season, something magical happens. The dramatics of a game with no time clock... where comebacks are always possible. In the early point of the playoffs, there’s usually triple headers on TV too. An afternoon game, followed by one at supper, ended with a night game from the west coast. It makes you want to take a day off work just to sit around and do the baseball thing.
Also this week... I had a party. I’ve had people (more than one or two) at my place I think... four times since I’ve moved to Ottawa. So once a year. Of course, commitment isn’t an easy thing to get from people. Seventeen were invited... five appeared. Most had reasonable reasons why they couldn’t but a few just simply disappeared. I guess I know a couple of people not to bother to invite next time!
But it was a good time for the group of us anyway. I’m just now overloaded with junk food. I rarely eat the stuff now and never buy it for having around the house, so I’ll have to get people over again soon in order to rid myself of the backlog. Otherwise, I’ll be eating Party Mix for supper and washing it down with root beer!
But the biggest change this week was that at work. I was back on dayshift.
After three months of straight evenings, it was a return to the land of the living. And it was weird. I came in to the office Monday morning, not used to the traffic on the way in. All those people driving through the darkness of morning. And then four or five times more people in the office than on evening shift. Everywhere you turn, there’s someone there. For the first half hour, it felt like an invasion. I wanted to find a quiet corner to curl up in. And I’ve found that from 7:00 to about 9:30, I contribute very little to any conversation that goes beyond a grunt or a one word answer.
But with time you get used to the bodies... drown out the ones you don’t need to hear and be happy to see the ones you don’t often come across. And there’s something to be said for leaving the office in daylight and seeing others all about the place. And then to be able to take your time and watch a sunset if you want to... right from the comfort of your bedroom window.
But that 5:15 alarm clock... now that just hurts.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Making It Up As I Go Along #286
MONDAY...
— After walking on Saturday and Sunday of last week... I take tonight off.
— Work is work... before work there’s not much going on.
TUESDAY...
— How many white guys were walking around at five to twelve this morning, listening to Japanese music on their MP3 player? Well I can name one anyway. I guess we’re all unique on some level. Out there for a little short of an hour. It’s different doing it in the daytime rather than night.
— I also did some writing today. That was good... I haven’t done that too often lately.
WEDNESDAY...
— Hour and forty-five minute walk after work tonight. Likely my last real like evening walk as I’m not home until 2:20. I need to be in bed earlier than that most nights now as day shift is coming next week and I need to get a more consistent sleep pattern. But it’s a nice night to stretch it out tonight.
THURSDAY...
— Watched that Survivor show again. Silly me.
— No walk tonight. Taking a break but plan to go again tomorrow.
FRIDAY...
— Some playing around with the computer. Normal work day. Not much else going on really.
SATURDAY...
— Quiet day around the house. Then off with Atlas for a poker night at the RCMP Mess. It’s a fund raiser. I do badly but have fun all the same. I actually get a prize as me and another tied for the first people knocked out of the tournament.
These are the Days of Our Lives
Well it’s upon me. After close to three straight months of evening shift at work... I am returning to the regular shift pattern. Well, pretty close to regular. I’ll still do Tina’s evenings too. But still, I’ll be on days as much as evenings again.
So how will it go? What will I do to maintain sleep and energy? We’ll have to wait and see. The plan is to aim for earlier bedtimes while on evenings. To cut down the 3:00 AM and later turn ins and try to keep a bedtime that’s more consistent between days and evenings. Although maybe I’ll sneak some late nights in there still. With Tina’s evening shift, it comes right after mine... so I’ll be two straight weeks of evenings when I do them. Perhaps I’ll be able to sneak in three or four late nights during that two week span.
Cause the thing is... I love the night. I’m not dying to work at night mind you. To think of going from midnight to 7:00 AM at the office is not appealing. I just love the quiet and freedom of it.
Being able to go out for an hour and a half walk and not see anyone is really something special. Being able to be around the house and only hear crickets outside and not even think about phone calls is also quite peaceful.
But, I have a job that doesn’t allow for this to be my everyday reality. For three months, it was great... but it’s time to rejoin the real world.
So what does this mean? It means that I’ll be looking at a clock at 9:30 each night and thinking about cluing up a few more things before getting ready for bed. It means forcing myself to bed, whether I’m tired or not, by 11:00 at the latest. And it means awaking to my CD player while it’s still dark outside.
And the late night walks? Cut back to a reasonable hour I guess. Maybe right after work in the broad daylight. Maybe after supper. Or perhaps a few hours before bed. Either way, I’m sure it won’t just be me and the rabbits... too bad.
That all said, there will be some good in all this. After all, I could have stayed on evenings for another month but I decided to make the change back early. I’ll be with a team again. Part of a group and one of the gang.
I’ll be able to do some things in the evenings. Shopping for underwear at Mark’s Work Warehouse can happen with regular people rather than the legions of retirees who shop in the late mornings. No more dodging old person go-carts... I can stride around with the people in their prime!
There will be people I’ll see again. Derek, Sheila, Laura, Megan... all day shift people who I either haven’t seen or have only briefly spoken to at shift change. Although... Sheila and Laura are on different floors and I probably won’t see a great deal of them anyway... and Megan is busy in CNI, so I won’t see much of her either... and Derek... well Derek I may see more of. But do I give up the magic of the night so I can hang out with Derek? I mean he’s a good guy and all but...
Aww, let’s do it! Derek is THE man... and besides, I do need new underwear. And those old people and their go-carts scare me!
— After walking on Saturday and Sunday of last week... I take tonight off.
— Work is work... before work there’s not much going on.
TUESDAY...
— How many white guys were walking around at five to twelve this morning, listening to Japanese music on their MP3 player? Well I can name one anyway. I guess we’re all unique on some level. Out there for a little short of an hour. It’s different doing it in the daytime rather than night.
— I also did some writing today. That was good... I haven’t done that too often lately.
WEDNESDAY...
— Hour and forty-five minute walk after work tonight. Likely my last real like evening walk as I’m not home until 2:20. I need to be in bed earlier than that most nights now as day shift is coming next week and I need to get a more consistent sleep pattern. But it’s a nice night to stretch it out tonight.
THURSDAY...
— Watched that Survivor show again. Silly me.
— No walk tonight. Taking a break but plan to go again tomorrow.
FRIDAY...
— Some playing around with the computer. Normal work day. Not much else going on really.
SATURDAY...
— Quiet day around the house. Then off with Atlas for a poker night at the RCMP Mess. It’s a fund raiser. I do badly but have fun all the same. I actually get a prize as me and another tied for the first people knocked out of the tournament.
These are the Days of Our Lives
Well it’s upon me. After close to three straight months of evening shift at work... I am returning to the regular shift pattern. Well, pretty close to regular. I’ll still do Tina’s evenings too. But still, I’ll be on days as much as evenings again.
So how will it go? What will I do to maintain sleep and energy? We’ll have to wait and see. The plan is to aim for earlier bedtimes while on evenings. To cut down the 3:00 AM and later turn ins and try to keep a bedtime that’s more consistent between days and evenings. Although maybe I’ll sneak some late nights in there still. With Tina’s evening shift, it comes right after mine... so I’ll be two straight weeks of evenings when I do them. Perhaps I’ll be able to sneak in three or four late nights during that two week span.
Cause the thing is... I love the night. I’m not dying to work at night mind you. To think of going from midnight to 7:00 AM at the office is not appealing. I just love the quiet and freedom of it.
Being able to go out for an hour and a half walk and not see anyone is really something special. Being able to be around the house and only hear crickets outside and not even think about phone calls is also quite peaceful.
But, I have a job that doesn’t allow for this to be my everyday reality. For three months, it was great... but it’s time to rejoin the real world.
So what does this mean? It means that I’ll be looking at a clock at 9:30 each night and thinking about cluing up a few more things before getting ready for bed. It means forcing myself to bed, whether I’m tired or not, by 11:00 at the latest. And it means awaking to my CD player while it’s still dark outside.
And the late night walks? Cut back to a reasonable hour I guess. Maybe right after work in the broad daylight. Maybe after supper. Or perhaps a few hours before bed. Either way, I’m sure it won’t just be me and the rabbits... too bad.
That all said, there will be some good in all this. After all, I could have stayed on evenings for another month but I decided to make the change back early. I’ll be with a team again. Part of a group and one of the gang.
I’ll be able to do some things in the evenings. Shopping for underwear at Mark’s Work Warehouse can happen with regular people rather than the legions of retirees who shop in the late mornings. No more dodging old person go-carts... I can stride around with the people in their prime!
There will be people I’ll see again. Derek, Sheila, Laura, Megan... all day shift people who I either haven’t seen or have only briefly spoken to at shift change. Although... Sheila and Laura are on different floors and I probably won’t see a great deal of them anyway... and Megan is busy in CNI, so I won’t see much of her either... and Derek... well Derek I may see more of. But do I give up the magic of the night so I can hang out with Derek? I mean he’s a good guy and all but...
Aww, let’s do it! Derek is THE man... and besides, I do need new underwear. And those old people and their go-carts scare me!
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Making It Up As I Go Along #285
MONDAY...
— Work is alright. I’m actually on evenings with my new team. First time working with them since officially joining them. Next week I’ll be separated from them again but that’s fine. Back to regular shift at the start of October.
— Trevor, Jonathan and I get Thai food for supper. Good stuff... I’ll have to do it more often.
— Got lots of plates and stuff. Ruby and Lee gave it to Melissa to bring back to me. Completes my set with the plates and bowls and mugs. I tell ya, I’m almost all grown up now.
— No walk tonight. Too bad, I was geared to go tonight and, when I look out just before leaving, I see rain. Oh well. If it was lots of rain around here, I’d throw on the coat and go anyway. But it’ll likely be fine and dry tomorrow night, so I may as well delay.
TUESDAY...
— Very long day at work. Hours dragged on and on. It did it for everyone too... that was the comment at the end of the night.
— The switch back to regular shift is getting bumped up a week. I was originally going to do it October 1... now it’ll be September 24. It’s time... although I may have a hard time getting back to that sleep pattern.
WEDNESDAY...
— Work is better today speed wise. A fairly straight forward night on the whole... not much out of the ordinary.
— Exercise day... half hour bike ride in the morning and an hour long walk after work. Summer’s over... rather than cute bunny rabbits on the walk... I come across a rat. Good times.
THURSDAY...
— Busy day. Luncheon for our team... we do an Italian place on Elgin Street. Then work at 1:30. Share some birthday wishes with Laura... no cake though (sniff). Supper with Shannon (the girl at work rather than the guy from home)... and work a bit of extra time to build up a little in case I need it for future vacations and the like.
— No walk tonight. I planned to but had trouble switching the music on my MP3 player... and by the time it was all fixed and ready to go, it was too late. I’m going to be at work for 11:30 again tomorrow so I can’t be up all night.
FRIDAY...
— Busy day again. Staff BBQ for charity. Bad music by a band of people who work in other departments. Hang out with Melissa, Megan, Sheila, Laura, and Nick. I break the dunk tank... in a good way. Nail the target, drop the boss into the water, and break the target in the process. It looks good, people are into it, but I think the target was weak before I hit it cause I didn’t put a load into the throw.
— Go to the mess for a drink for Laura’s birthday (which was yesterday). Eight or so people there... all good ones in my books... and some good talking and laughs are had. I only stay an hour before going back to the office to keep working. I stay until 10:00 (even though I could have left by 7:30) in order to build some extra time.
— No walk tonight... it’s raining pretty heavy for much of the night.
SATURDAY...
— Quiet day around the house. Supposed to meet up with Melissa but she’s not feeling well and we put it off until next week. So I watch some movies and get some groceries.
— Hour and a half walk to end the night. It’s cool too... 5 or 6 degrees while on the walk.
The Pitch Heard ‘Round the World
The day starts like many others. Sun and warmth bring cheer to all. Afternoon thundershowers are forecast but they are not to be... the gods of baseball will not allow it.
Music and BBQ start the festivities. Hundreds gather on the grass and under the trees. Those seeking shade find it. Those wanting to bask in the suns stand around talking with cheer on their voices.
A stirring occurs. Crowds are drawn towards the dunk tank. Like a cathedral with the bell ringing atop its spire, it draws them in. Like an afternoon game in Fenway Park, when Fall is around the corner and playoff excitement builds, the people head to the site in a feverishly hypnotic state. It’s in the air... an historical moment is coming.
With hundreds lined around the tank to watch, dozens walk up to take their shots. Unknown staff members are dropped into the water with a mighty splash and rounds of applause.
Many potential throwers wait with tickets in hand. They plan to take their shot when the greatest attraction steps to the plate. Murmurs go through the crowd that the boss will take his turn in the dunk tank. Some even say he’ll do it in full police uniform. Sightings are reported with every passing minute. Hysteria builds as word is he’ll take his place within the tank at 1:00. Watches are checked and throwers squirm with anticipation.
As the clock ticks closer to the big showdown of boss versus employee, swaggering starts. Bold proclamations of pitching abilities run through the crowd.
The moment arrives and the boss does indeed enter the tank... and indeed in full uniform. Excited throwers run for the line, wanting their chance at putting him in his rightful place... beneath the waterline.
Great athletes bend to the pressure. Balls are tossed wildly and the boss remains dry. One of the people who proclaimed themselves to be a good pitcher walks to the mound and drops the boss on the second pitch. A few pitches later, excitement builds as the top half of the target’s circle is chopped off with the force of the throw. Nervousness grows as worry of the premature end of the competition builds. But it’s decided the target still works without this piece, and the throwing continues.
A friend leans over asking if I’ll join in the competition. Shy of the crowd and concern with my shoulder bring a shake of my head. Since I ended my playing days (some six years ago) my shoulder has never really rebounded. It pains me to put my right hand on back of my head and I still can’t often sleep on my right side. Loose crackling often accompanies any rotation of the joint. I joke that I’d need twenty minutes to warm up before I could legitimately throw a ball.
Still, others continue in the throwing process. Some loop balls in, missing by a fraction of an inch. Others drop the boss into the water with cheers of the crowd. And a friend goes up, misses on all three attempts, and comes back with a smile saying “well at least I gave it a shot.”
Those words spur me on. Would I regret standing back and thinking of what could have been? Can my shoulder take the effort without warm up? It’s time to step up to the plate... or... in this case... the mound.
I walk to the back of the line.
Nervously, I await my time. Not nerves of the throw to come but of the idea of being on display. What if I throw three balls into the dirt? What if I loop one beyond the backstop and into the bushes? I’ve spoken of my times playing ball but none of these people have ever seen those days... my image could be tarnished forever and all my co-workers will think I have no athleticism what-so-ever.
But it’s too late, I’m here and soon to throw. I feel the eyes watching me even before my turn arrives.
I stride up to the mound. “Come on Charlie” comes from the background. A familiar voice linking me to the cartoon character some lovingly tag me. In fact, it’s not until I write this story that I think of the irony of how Charlie Brown was in fact the pitcher on his little league team. And here I am, an infielder, taking the mound... I in fact am Charlie Brown.
But these thoughts don’t enter my mind. I take the three balls my money buys, Palm two of them in my left hand, and hold the third in my right. The boss calls out... “Be nice Chris.” I block his words out.
In my hand, the ball feels right. It’s like a missed friend. The nerves calm, the crowd disappears, and I go into an easy motion and release.
A few inches right of the target. Not an embarrassing first try.
I take the second ball into my hand and peer into my target. A flip on my fingers tosses the ball a few inches into the air and it drops back into my waiting hand with ease. It’s a move done without thought. Many ball players do it. To think of it, I suppose it’s done to simply get a feel for the ball and to relax the hand and arm. Tightness is the enemy of a pitcher, even as an infielder, I know that.
As the ball lands back within my grasp, I begin my windup. It’s all in slow motion within my mind’s eye. The slight tuck of the left hand, ball still grasped within it. The backward motion of the right arm. A pause as it reaches the right hip and the slight turn of the wrist. Then the release... having the weight shift from one leg to the other... bringing the arm around... clearing the left side first and then bringing around the right... shoulder... elbow... wrist... fingers. Feeling the ball as it escapes and heads towards target... and even the follow through as the right arm chases the left.
The ball hurtles towards the target and, as it goes, all is quiet... slow... at peace.
Life comes back to the moment on contact, a crashing crack of ball hitting target... dead centre. The target smashing from it’s foundation... the boss’s perch becoming unhinged... the boss dropping into the water as a white blur... the splash of the water spewing out onto the grass.
The white piece of target flutters into the air... the metal trigger pokes out at a new angle... and the boss picks the ball out of the water of his tank, and tosses it back at me with disgust.
Cheers go up from the crowd... laughter and applause mix into the warm sun of the day... and organizers of the event step up to the mangled piece of machinery for inspection.
With that throw, the day ends. The tank can go no further. Further applause... then some teasing as I sheepishly walk back out of the spotlight. “Way to go!” “You broke it!” “Now we have to go back to work!”
One of the pitchers gives me a high five. I see some smiles and approving smiles from others. And I walk back, out of the spotlight, reputation as an athlete in tact.
I stride away from the field of battle with admiration adorned upon me by friends and well wishers. In a short time I’ll receive an e-mail of congratulations and pride from those friends that prodded me into the event... but as I walk away, trying to maintain the perception of indifference. I hear another voice... this coming from within... the voice is that of... my shoulder.
“What the hell was that??? Are you trying to kill me???” A tingling from bicep to neck warns me to never do that again. And I walk on quietly, nodding thanks to others as I pass.
— Work is alright. I’m actually on evenings with my new team. First time working with them since officially joining them. Next week I’ll be separated from them again but that’s fine. Back to regular shift at the start of October.
— Trevor, Jonathan and I get Thai food for supper. Good stuff... I’ll have to do it more often.
— Got lots of plates and stuff. Ruby and Lee gave it to Melissa to bring back to me. Completes my set with the plates and bowls and mugs. I tell ya, I’m almost all grown up now.
— No walk tonight. Too bad, I was geared to go tonight and, when I look out just before leaving, I see rain. Oh well. If it was lots of rain around here, I’d throw on the coat and go anyway. But it’ll likely be fine and dry tomorrow night, so I may as well delay.
TUESDAY...
— Very long day at work. Hours dragged on and on. It did it for everyone too... that was the comment at the end of the night.
— The switch back to regular shift is getting bumped up a week. I was originally going to do it October 1... now it’ll be September 24. It’s time... although I may have a hard time getting back to that sleep pattern.
WEDNESDAY...
— Work is better today speed wise. A fairly straight forward night on the whole... not much out of the ordinary.
— Exercise day... half hour bike ride in the morning and an hour long walk after work. Summer’s over... rather than cute bunny rabbits on the walk... I come across a rat. Good times.
THURSDAY...
— Busy day. Luncheon for our team... we do an Italian place on Elgin Street. Then work at 1:30. Share some birthday wishes with Laura... no cake though (sniff). Supper with Shannon (the girl at work rather than the guy from home)... and work a bit of extra time to build up a little in case I need it for future vacations and the like.
— No walk tonight. I planned to but had trouble switching the music on my MP3 player... and by the time it was all fixed and ready to go, it was too late. I’m going to be at work for 11:30 again tomorrow so I can’t be up all night.
FRIDAY...
— Busy day again. Staff BBQ for charity. Bad music by a band of people who work in other departments. Hang out with Melissa, Megan, Sheila, Laura, and Nick. I break the dunk tank... in a good way. Nail the target, drop the boss into the water, and break the target in the process. It looks good, people are into it, but I think the target was weak before I hit it cause I didn’t put a load into the throw.
— Go to the mess for a drink for Laura’s birthday (which was yesterday). Eight or so people there... all good ones in my books... and some good talking and laughs are had. I only stay an hour before going back to the office to keep working. I stay until 10:00 (even though I could have left by 7:30) in order to build some extra time.
— No walk tonight... it’s raining pretty heavy for much of the night.
SATURDAY...
— Quiet day around the house. Supposed to meet up with Melissa but she’s not feeling well and we put it off until next week. So I watch some movies and get some groceries.
— Hour and a half walk to end the night. It’s cool too... 5 or 6 degrees while on the walk.
The Pitch Heard ‘Round the World
The day starts like many others. Sun and warmth bring cheer to all. Afternoon thundershowers are forecast but they are not to be... the gods of baseball will not allow it.
Music and BBQ start the festivities. Hundreds gather on the grass and under the trees. Those seeking shade find it. Those wanting to bask in the suns stand around talking with cheer on their voices.
A stirring occurs. Crowds are drawn towards the dunk tank. Like a cathedral with the bell ringing atop its spire, it draws them in. Like an afternoon game in Fenway Park, when Fall is around the corner and playoff excitement builds, the people head to the site in a feverishly hypnotic state. It’s in the air... an historical moment is coming.
With hundreds lined around the tank to watch, dozens walk up to take their shots. Unknown staff members are dropped into the water with a mighty splash and rounds of applause.
Many potential throwers wait with tickets in hand. They plan to take their shot when the greatest attraction steps to the plate. Murmurs go through the crowd that the boss will take his turn in the dunk tank. Some even say he’ll do it in full police uniform. Sightings are reported with every passing minute. Hysteria builds as word is he’ll take his place within the tank at 1:00. Watches are checked and throwers squirm with anticipation.
As the clock ticks closer to the big showdown of boss versus employee, swaggering starts. Bold proclamations of pitching abilities run through the crowd.
The moment arrives and the boss does indeed enter the tank... and indeed in full uniform. Excited throwers run for the line, wanting their chance at putting him in his rightful place... beneath the waterline.
Great athletes bend to the pressure. Balls are tossed wildly and the boss remains dry. One of the people who proclaimed themselves to be a good pitcher walks to the mound and drops the boss on the second pitch. A few pitches later, excitement builds as the top half of the target’s circle is chopped off with the force of the throw. Nervousness grows as worry of the premature end of the competition builds. But it’s decided the target still works without this piece, and the throwing continues.
A friend leans over asking if I’ll join in the competition. Shy of the crowd and concern with my shoulder bring a shake of my head. Since I ended my playing days (some six years ago) my shoulder has never really rebounded. It pains me to put my right hand on back of my head and I still can’t often sleep on my right side. Loose crackling often accompanies any rotation of the joint. I joke that I’d need twenty minutes to warm up before I could legitimately throw a ball.
Still, others continue in the throwing process. Some loop balls in, missing by a fraction of an inch. Others drop the boss into the water with cheers of the crowd. And a friend goes up, misses on all three attempts, and comes back with a smile saying “well at least I gave it a shot.”
Those words spur me on. Would I regret standing back and thinking of what could have been? Can my shoulder take the effort without warm up? It’s time to step up to the plate... or... in this case... the mound.
I walk to the back of the line.
Nervously, I await my time. Not nerves of the throw to come but of the idea of being on display. What if I throw three balls into the dirt? What if I loop one beyond the backstop and into the bushes? I’ve spoken of my times playing ball but none of these people have ever seen those days... my image could be tarnished forever and all my co-workers will think I have no athleticism what-so-ever.
But it’s too late, I’m here and soon to throw. I feel the eyes watching me even before my turn arrives.
I stride up to the mound. “Come on Charlie” comes from the background. A familiar voice linking me to the cartoon character some lovingly tag me. In fact, it’s not until I write this story that I think of the irony of how Charlie Brown was in fact the pitcher on his little league team. And here I am, an infielder, taking the mound... I in fact am Charlie Brown.
But these thoughts don’t enter my mind. I take the three balls my money buys, Palm two of them in my left hand, and hold the third in my right. The boss calls out... “Be nice Chris.” I block his words out.
In my hand, the ball feels right. It’s like a missed friend. The nerves calm, the crowd disappears, and I go into an easy motion and release.
A few inches right of the target. Not an embarrassing first try.
I take the second ball into my hand and peer into my target. A flip on my fingers tosses the ball a few inches into the air and it drops back into my waiting hand with ease. It’s a move done without thought. Many ball players do it. To think of it, I suppose it’s done to simply get a feel for the ball and to relax the hand and arm. Tightness is the enemy of a pitcher, even as an infielder, I know that.
As the ball lands back within my grasp, I begin my windup. It’s all in slow motion within my mind’s eye. The slight tuck of the left hand, ball still grasped within it. The backward motion of the right arm. A pause as it reaches the right hip and the slight turn of the wrist. Then the release... having the weight shift from one leg to the other... bringing the arm around... clearing the left side first and then bringing around the right... shoulder... elbow... wrist... fingers. Feeling the ball as it escapes and heads towards target... and even the follow through as the right arm chases the left.
The ball hurtles towards the target and, as it goes, all is quiet... slow... at peace.
Life comes back to the moment on contact, a crashing crack of ball hitting target... dead centre. The target smashing from it’s foundation... the boss’s perch becoming unhinged... the boss dropping into the water as a white blur... the splash of the water spewing out onto the grass.
The white piece of target flutters into the air... the metal trigger pokes out at a new angle... and the boss picks the ball out of the water of his tank, and tosses it back at me with disgust.
Cheers go up from the crowd... laughter and applause mix into the warm sun of the day... and organizers of the event step up to the mangled piece of machinery for inspection.
With that throw, the day ends. The tank can go no further. Further applause... then some teasing as I sheepishly walk back out of the spotlight. “Way to go!” “You broke it!” “Now we have to go back to work!”
One of the pitchers gives me a high five. I see some smiles and approving smiles from others. And I walk back, out of the spotlight, reputation as an athlete in tact.
I stride away from the field of battle with admiration adorned upon me by friends and well wishers. In a short time I’ll receive an e-mail of congratulations and pride from those friends that prodded me into the event... but as I walk away, trying to maintain the perception of indifference. I hear another voice... this coming from within... the voice is that of... my shoulder.
“What the hell was that??? Are you trying to kill me???” A tingling from bicep to neck warns me to never do that again. And I walk on quietly, nodding thanks to others as I pass.
Sunday, September 09, 2007
Making It Up As I Go Along #284
MONDAY...
— Laundry day for the holiday. After that I have supper with Sheila and her friend. Hour plus walk goes a slightly different route to change things up.
TUESDAY...
— Scrubs in the morning... the DVD of the show that is.
— Work is okay... I walk twice at work, once alone at supper and the second time at break with Lisa and Josee.
— My stomach feels a little off by the tail end of work. I get some groceries on the way home and don’t go for a night walk. I decide to rest up and go to bed a bit earlier. It’s cool out tonight anyway, so if I’m a touch under the weather, I shouldn’t go out breaking a sweat.
WEDNESDAY...
— Not feeling super today but go to work all the same and get through alright. I work in TC AFIS for a change. The big transformer in AFIS buzzes too much... I needed to get away for a day, it’s like working under power lines!
— Due to the way I feel, I skip the walk again tonight. Like last night, it’s cool out and I think a cool night sweat would be playing with trouble.
THURSDAY...
— Movie in the morning and a few e-mails. I’m up a bit early to try to get on track for a very early rise Friday. It’s day shift tomorrow because of the staff golf tournament.
— Work is okay... we take off a bit early to get home for the early morning thing. Blah.
FRIDAY...
— Long day due to two hours sleep and an early wake to go to work on dayshift. Lucky it’s not for long. In for about three hours and then it’s off to the golf tournament. It’s hot today too... 38 with the humidity. We play okay but the heat wears us down as a team. Linda, Michelle and Carole are the team mates. I talk with several others (including Sheila and Laura and Jonathan and Derek) after and during the meal. Then it’s home for a very tired night.
SATURDAY...
— Quiet day. I actually get up early (around 4:30 or 5:00). I snooze a bit in front of the TV until 6:30 and then get back to bed for another three hours. Not ideal. Six episodes of The Office on DVD and some UFC fighting from London on TV.
Cats (Not the Musical)
The cat! Is there any more evil domesticated animal on the planet? I think not. Although cats can be so evil and moody that they’re entertaining. I suppose that’s what make them pets that we tend to rather than meals that we cook up on holidays.
I’ve personally had extending relationships with only two cats. There’s Baby... the darling of my aunt Sylvia. I’ve house sat for Wayne and Sylvia several times, having to feed their ‘baby’, Baby for days or even a few weeks at a time.
Baby is the typical cat. When she wants attention, she comes to you and craves it. Little “rrra” style meows beg for a rub of the ears. And she would always want you around at night, either so she could share the bed or jump up on a window perch, where she can overlook her domain... with you, a loyal subject... beneath her.
But then Baby would also become psycho cat. Not thirty seconds after she comes to you purring and looking for love, she’ll swat your hand and leave a little trickle of red welling up from your wounds. Expletives often follow such an encounter. Leave it to Baby... she’ll turn on you with the blink of an eye.
Friends have often told me their cat stories. Josee, a co-worker, recently tried to get me to take her cat. A 19 year old that’s “looking for love”. Sounds nice enough except for the fact that this animal sleeps most of the day and then meows loudly through the night. Josee’s family can’t sleep because this cat is basically screaming it’s, as Josee puts it, “Death Meows.” What a delightful pet.
Laura has also told a cat tale or two. Her cat is up around 20 years old too and you can tell, through the passion in the way she tells the tales, that Laura truly hates her cat. Although I should qualify the hate as being that of an entertaining hatred.
Laura has often told us how she plans to stop feeding the cat on one of those occasions when the rest of her family are away for a few weeks. The best stories of her epic cat battles again, deal with a meow that is unleashed from the depths of hell. In Laura’s case, it’s when the cat is hungry and looking to be fed. This seems to most often happen when Laura is trying to sleep in the wee morning hours. The cat will stand outside her door and let out a blood curdling “meeeerroooowwww”. Witnessing Laura’s own personal version of the meow is worth the price of admission in itself. She’ll then go on to tell us how she stomps out of the bed, swings the door open, and proceeds to kick the cat down over the stairs. All told with a smile on her face... and since the cat remains alive at such a ripe old age, I’m sure also told with a degree of exaggeration. But it is a fine example of how much cats can mess with our heads.
The main cat of my dealings has been Ebby. Aunt Ruby and Uncle Lee’s mammoth feline who ruled her world with loving disdain for all. Word has it that Ebby started out a normal size. She ventured into Ruby and Lee’s life and took over from the other cat, Oreo. That is to say, when the food was placed in the bowls, Ebby would become the bully and proceed to eat both her share and that of the older Oreo. By the time I first met her, Ebby was a 25 pound mass of fur. I, like most others who first happen upon her, thought she was a stuffed toy. Perched upon a sofa, perfectly still, you’d spot Ebby and venture over to rub her soft fur. Then a great swat of a paw would shoot out from under her form, harmlessly batting you away. The fact she was declawed made such encounters laughable.
Ebby would do everything possible to show it was her way or no way. Sitting in a chair on the phone meant you were to play with her. She’d plop down at your feet wanting to be gently pushed and stepped on. Occasional bites would remind you who’s the boss.
Bedtime, you remained at her service. Too big to jump straight up to the bed, she’d swat at the mattress and wait for you to lift her up. At Ruby’s house, I shifted over a chair... giving her the step she needed to make it to the bed on her own. But, months later and with Ruby and Lee out of town, Ebby took over my home. The bed situation become more and more a battle of wills for power. It began as Ebby hitting the mattress and then standing up against the side of the bed to be lifted up. Near the end of her stay, though, she’d hit the bed and then back away just far enough so that I couldn’t reach over the side and get her. It got to a point where I eventually had to shut my door to her entirely. This would leave her batting at the obstruction... and shoving her paw underneath, feeling the air inside my room in horror movie fashion. It left you feeling like a trapped mouse only millimeters from capture as you plaster yourself up against the wall in fear.
Ebby would also go where she wasn’t allowed. Always with the look of complete understanding of the situation but the desire to show you that she’s the one calling the shots. The most blatant of such situations being when she stood next to my coffee table, glowered over at me in a “watch this” manner. Waiting for me to tell her “don’t you dare!” And then she proceeded to leap up onto the coffee table and settle down for a nap within the forbidden zone. When I rushed over and grabbed her down, she walked away, not so much irritated but pleased with a mission successfully accomplished.
Ebby has since died. But only a few weeks ago, during one of my late night neighbourhood walks, I happened upon this massive cat. It just sat there in the middle of a road and stared at me as I passed by. It’s colourings were identical to Ebby’s... and how many 25 pound cats are out there anyway?
I walked by, almost tempted to stop and call her name. Cats, they can control your lives even from beyond the grave.
— Laundry day for the holiday. After that I have supper with Sheila and her friend. Hour plus walk goes a slightly different route to change things up.
TUESDAY...
— Scrubs in the morning... the DVD of the show that is.
— Work is okay... I walk twice at work, once alone at supper and the second time at break with Lisa and Josee.
— My stomach feels a little off by the tail end of work. I get some groceries on the way home and don’t go for a night walk. I decide to rest up and go to bed a bit earlier. It’s cool out tonight anyway, so if I’m a touch under the weather, I shouldn’t go out breaking a sweat.
WEDNESDAY...
— Not feeling super today but go to work all the same and get through alright. I work in TC AFIS for a change. The big transformer in AFIS buzzes too much... I needed to get away for a day, it’s like working under power lines!
— Due to the way I feel, I skip the walk again tonight. Like last night, it’s cool out and I think a cool night sweat would be playing with trouble.
THURSDAY...
— Movie in the morning and a few e-mails. I’m up a bit early to try to get on track for a very early rise Friday. It’s day shift tomorrow because of the staff golf tournament.
— Work is okay... we take off a bit early to get home for the early morning thing. Blah.
FRIDAY...
— Long day due to two hours sleep and an early wake to go to work on dayshift. Lucky it’s not for long. In for about three hours and then it’s off to the golf tournament. It’s hot today too... 38 with the humidity. We play okay but the heat wears us down as a team. Linda, Michelle and Carole are the team mates. I talk with several others (including Sheila and Laura and Jonathan and Derek) after and during the meal. Then it’s home for a very tired night.
SATURDAY...
— Quiet day. I actually get up early (around 4:30 or 5:00). I snooze a bit in front of the TV until 6:30 and then get back to bed for another three hours. Not ideal. Six episodes of The Office on DVD and some UFC fighting from London on TV.
Cats (Not the Musical)
The cat! Is there any more evil domesticated animal on the planet? I think not. Although cats can be so evil and moody that they’re entertaining. I suppose that’s what make them pets that we tend to rather than meals that we cook up on holidays.
I’ve personally had extending relationships with only two cats. There’s Baby... the darling of my aunt Sylvia. I’ve house sat for Wayne and Sylvia several times, having to feed their ‘baby’, Baby for days or even a few weeks at a time.
Baby is the typical cat. When she wants attention, she comes to you and craves it. Little “rrra” style meows beg for a rub of the ears. And she would always want you around at night, either so she could share the bed or jump up on a window perch, where she can overlook her domain... with you, a loyal subject... beneath her.
But then Baby would also become psycho cat. Not thirty seconds after she comes to you purring and looking for love, she’ll swat your hand and leave a little trickle of red welling up from your wounds. Expletives often follow such an encounter. Leave it to Baby... she’ll turn on you with the blink of an eye.
Friends have often told me their cat stories. Josee, a co-worker, recently tried to get me to take her cat. A 19 year old that’s “looking for love”. Sounds nice enough except for the fact that this animal sleeps most of the day and then meows loudly through the night. Josee’s family can’t sleep because this cat is basically screaming it’s, as Josee puts it, “Death Meows.” What a delightful pet.
Laura has also told a cat tale or two. Her cat is up around 20 years old too and you can tell, through the passion in the way she tells the tales, that Laura truly hates her cat. Although I should qualify the hate as being that of an entertaining hatred.
Laura has often told us how she plans to stop feeding the cat on one of those occasions when the rest of her family are away for a few weeks. The best stories of her epic cat battles again, deal with a meow that is unleashed from the depths of hell. In Laura’s case, it’s when the cat is hungry and looking to be fed. This seems to most often happen when Laura is trying to sleep in the wee morning hours. The cat will stand outside her door and let out a blood curdling “meeeerroooowwww”. Witnessing Laura’s own personal version of the meow is worth the price of admission in itself. She’ll then go on to tell us how she stomps out of the bed, swings the door open, and proceeds to kick the cat down over the stairs. All told with a smile on her face... and since the cat remains alive at such a ripe old age, I’m sure also told with a degree of exaggeration. But it is a fine example of how much cats can mess with our heads.
The main cat of my dealings has been Ebby. Aunt Ruby and Uncle Lee’s mammoth feline who ruled her world with loving disdain for all. Word has it that Ebby started out a normal size. She ventured into Ruby and Lee’s life and took over from the other cat, Oreo. That is to say, when the food was placed in the bowls, Ebby would become the bully and proceed to eat both her share and that of the older Oreo. By the time I first met her, Ebby was a 25 pound mass of fur. I, like most others who first happen upon her, thought she was a stuffed toy. Perched upon a sofa, perfectly still, you’d spot Ebby and venture over to rub her soft fur. Then a great swat of a paw would shoot out from under her form, harmlessly batting you away. The fact she was declawed made such encounters laughable.
Ebby would do everything possible to show it was her way or no way. Sitting in a chair on the phone meant you were to play with her. She’d plop down at your feet wanting to be gently pushed and stepped on. Occasional bites would remind you who’s the boss.
Bedtime, you remained at her service. Too big to jump straight up to the bed, she’d swat at the mattress and wait for you to lift her up. At Ruby’s house, I shifted over a chair... giving her the step she needed to make it to the bed on her own. But, months later and with Ruby and Lee out of town, Ebby took over my home. The bed situation become more and more a battle of wills for power. It began as Ebby hitting the mattress and then standing up against the side of the bed to be lifted up. Near the end of her stay, though, she’d hit the bed and then back away just far enough so that I couldn’t reach over the side and get her. It got to a point where I eventually had to shut my door to her entirely. This would leave her batting at the obstruction... and shoving her paw underneath, feeling the air inside my room in horror movie fashion. It left you feeling like a trapped mouse only millimeters from capture as you plaster yourself up against the wall in fear.
Ebby would also go where she wasn’t allowed. Always with the look of complete understanding of the situation but the desire to show you that she’s the one calling the shots. The most blatant of such situations being when she stood next to my coffee table, glowered over at me in a “watch this” manner. Waiting for me to tell her “don’t you dare!” And then she proceeded to leap up onto the coffee table and settle down for a nap within the forbidden zone. When I rushed over and grabbed her down, she walked away, not so much irritated but pleased with a mission successfully accomplished.
Ebby has since died. But only a few weeks ago, during one of my late night neighbourhood walks, I happened upon this massive cat. It just sat there in the middle of a road and stared at me as I passed by. It’s colourings were identical to Ebby’s... and how many 25 pound cats are out there anyway?
I walked by, almost tempted to stop and call her name. Cats, they can control your lives even from beyond the grave.
Sunday, September 02, 2007
Making It Up As I Go Along #283
(click on images to enlarge... the "Little Red Jellybean" just prior to departing and the new car below)MONDAY...
— Not a bad night at work. It seems what I thought was something bad I ate last week (when my stomach didn’t like me) was sickness after all. Well, maybe. I talked to three people tonight who all had fairly similar thing going on with them over the last week.
— Hour and a bit walk after work.
TUESDAY...
— Not much out of the ordinary. My stats at work are fine... I watch Dexter on the movie network before work (good show made by Showtime).
— After hour+ walks Sunday and Monday, I take a night off.
WEDNESDAY...
— Early work day. In for a luncheon. I pick up Leslie, Janice and Laura and then Sue and Michelle join us at the restaurant. I haven’t talked with Laura or Janice very much at all this summer, so spending some time around them was pretty good.
— Work after the luncheon is distracted by an evening storm. It’s the heaviest thunder and lightning storm I’ve seen since moving to Ottawa more than four years ago.
— Still wet on the ground after midnight but the rain stops and I go walking anyway. Out for little more than an hour... and it does rain some while I’m there... also, it’s odd. Paramedics and what look like police are out around. The paramedics dealing with a guy in a van and the police just standing, looking out into a dark and open field. But they don’t tell me anything so I figure I won’t be mugged for going on.
THURSDAY...
— Work is fine. Get some Chinese food for supper and it’s only Glen, Josee, Martin and me there today (Dave is off sick).
— No walk. I have to get up early tomorrow so I thought I’d just watch some Scrubs on DVD and go to bed.
FRIDAY...
— Out early to return the Echo and get the Mazda. It all goes pretty easy and in about two hours. It was weird waiting on the curb at Toyota and seeing the people there go out and get in my old car and drive it off to get cleaned up. I almost felt like saying “Get away from my car!”
— Take a glob of mud from a truck on the drive to work. It smacks the front fender and I’m wondering if I damaged my new car on day 1... but it came off fine.
— Take extra time at supper today to go eat at Grace O’Malley’s with Sheila and others for Sheila’s birthday. Linda, Michelle and Sheila’s roommate, Nicole are also there... plus a few guys I didn’t really know.
— Skip out on a return to Grace O’Malley’s... they didn’t call me before work ended and I was getting tired anyway... so home I went.
SATURDAY...
— Around the house for the morning with some DVD of Scrubs and some baseball on tv. Off to visit with Karl in the late afternoon, then supper and a movie. Knocked Up is really good.
Changing of the Guard
This past week marked a change. Out with the old and in with the new. Gone is the flashy red environmentally friendly... here is the blackness with a bit more substance.
The changes of which I speak are to do with the cars. I’ve let the red Echo go and am now the owner of a Mazda 3 sport.
This is actually my first car purchase done basically on my own. Mom and dad helped out with some finances but the legwork, decision making, and negotiated was all on me this time around. It actually went better than I expected although who knows, maybe I’d have been able to get an even better deal with a hard line closer helping me out.
Negotiations have been ongoing for little more than a week. Toyota came calling about my soon to expire lease and I went in to discuss options. The only Toyota option I was seriously considering was the Matrix. And, truth be told, test drives and negotiations on such a car were going pretty well. The Matrix has plenty to offer and I left Toyota feeling as though it would soon be my new car.
Toyota is a fine company. They generally treat you well. But the last few times I dealt with them in maintenance calls on my Echo, I was a little less than impressed. I couldn’t help but feel Toyota were trying to get me to make more and more unnecessary spendings and, when it came to their strong suggestion that I spend $550 on new summer tires rather than $75 to put my old ones back on, it was the final straw. It didn’t help that they still tried to charge me the $75 for the tires I didn’t have them put on... and the fact that another garage said the old tires were good enough left me leaning towards a departure from Toyota.
Still, switching my lease from and Echo to a Matrix is tempting. It’s set up to be a smooth transaction and the salesman kept showing me the ease in it... that I could be in a brand new Matrix with two days.
The Matrix drives well and it has loads of room for anything that I’d want to drive off with (bike, IKEA goods, stolen items). Lots of room for everything. And although it’s no Echo on the gas, the Matrix is solid at the pumps too.
On the down side, my first time on the highway is memorable for all the wrong reasons. I’d say 80% of my Ottawa driving occurs on the highways... and the Matrix has about as much acceleration as a Viking ship with two rowers. I get on the on ramp behind another, non-to-sporty car and I watch it pull away from me as I ease my way up to 100 km/h. Eventually, the ol’ girl gets up to speed, but if I am to go with the Matrix, it won’t be for the getaway abilities on that theft trip I alluded to earlier.
Still, my feelings by midweek (two weeks ago) are that this will be the way I go. I’ve always known Mazda has a hatchback version of their popular 3 model but I also always assumed it would be enough of a price hike over the Matrix that no Mazda deal would get done.
So a week ago Friday past, I decide to drop by Mazda before going on to Toyota for, what I expect, would be the day the deal is done.
To my surprise, the Mazda 3 Sport is actually within the same price range as the Matrix. The fancy Matrix is actually more expensive than the base 3 Sport. And, upon examination, the 3Sport has about as much to offer in it’s basic model as the Matrix does loaded.
With that, the game is on. A quick ride in a Mazda tells me it’s definitely in the game. And I go back to Toyota for another Matrix test drive and leave promising them nothing. If all goes right the following day, I’ll become a Mazda Man.
And the next day, all does go right. Before I know it, I’m signing on the dotted line and phoning Toyota with the thanks, but no thanks.
This past Friday was switch day. I take a final picture of my little red Echo (the Little Red Jellybean... as it became known at the office). I hop in and pull away from home feeling a little sadness. The poor ol’ girl doesn’t know she isn’t coming back. I feel like a dog owner bringing man’s best friend to the vet to get put down. Maybe the Echo has an inkling of change the night before, when I clear out my personal stuff... perhaps it wasn’t an easy night’s sleep for the poor thing in her favourite parking space.
Either way, the drive back to Toyota is a solemn one. And I fear an accident just before I turn it over. But the accident doesn’t come and I get out for the last time at the Toyota dealership.
The salesman is all business today. Nice enough but not in it to make much small talk. He just goes out, gives the car a check over, and brings me my licence plates. We’re all done in twenty minutes and I’m left on the side of the road, waiting my pick up from Mazda. It’s an awkward silence. Me on the sidewalk back on and less than a hundred feet away from the Little Red Jellybean. I consider one last picture before I go, and am about to take out my camera, when the Toyota guys make their way over to my car, pawing over it and discussing it’s future... a future without me.
I turn away again, looking for my ride, and I hear the familiar cough of startup. I look back to see my car pull away and drive around the corner, out of sight... gone forever.
With my memories in place, I get out to Mazda. A refreshing start... a new relationship. It feels good. And there’s my black new friend (Nothing racial in that by the way). A sexier, cooler looking friend. Ready to take on new adventures... ones the little red one was never totally comfortable doing (like taking four friends with us... only my sister ever sat on top of the cup holder that is the middle seat in an Echo).
With power, grace and confidence, my new friend takes me home. I hope the Little Red Jellybean has a good life ahead.
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