Close only counts in horseshoes, hand grenades...and thermonuclear weapons

So dropping game four this past Sunday was a little frustrating. I can't speak for the rest of the team, but that's how I felt. Our opponent played a make-up game just before our scheduled bout, so you'd think they would be more tired than usual, but in reality it appeared to have just been a decent warm-up for them. We got behind early, again, but would tighten up as the game worn on. We just couldn't quite come all the way back, and we lost by two runs. As a team, we weren't as patient at the plate as we should have been, and that went double for yours truly. I was two for four on the day; one of my outs was a pop-up, the other a grounder back to the pitcher. On both of those, I should've been more patient. My best hit of the day was my first, a deep single I ripped to left-center that scored two runs. Defensively, I was at shortstop, and had a little action, but spent a goodly portion of the game playing cutoff man to the left side outfielders. Once again, if we would have had time for another inning, we may have been able to pull this one out. That's how close it was coming down the stretch. If we could be as tight at the outset of a game as we get midway through, we'd have no problems overcoming run deficits. In the end, though, it's still just a game, and while winning's always more fun than losing, it's getting to play that keeps me going back. There's always next week!

links for 2007-03-27

links for 2007-03-22

The duel

Monday evening a promise was kept and shopping commenced for a lightsaber for the little phisch. We charted a course toward the Toys R Us system, arriving there just a few parsecs after dinner time. (It might've been faster if Solo had loaned us the Falcon, but whatever, he's too busy dodging Imperial cruisers or something.) The purchase was made of a blue lightsaber, because we figured this would juxtapose nicely with my own double-bladed, red lightsaber. (And, more importantly, it was the only color in stock.) Alas, by the time we arrived back home at Echo Base, it was bed time for the little phisch, so any dueling with Daddy would have to wait another day. The new lightsaber spent the night on the night stand next to the boy's bed. Last night, the promised duel was held. The missus insisted it take place outside, so on to the back deck we went. Daddy only used one of his saber's blades, to, you know, keep things "fair". Both of us had an awesome time. The little phisch held nothing back. Every swing of his blade was meant for limb severing, for disemboweling, for decapitation (if he could have reached my neck, that is). My knuckles held the proof of his relentless onslaught. I also learned a bit of how Count Dooku and Palpatine must've felt going up against Yoda: it's actually tough countering the attacks of someone half your size. That, and since I was seeking to have fun with my little guy without causing injury, played a part in my own defense and counterattack. (For the record, yes, I injured the boy, but it was a tap on the shoulder that didn't even leave a mark, and he was quickly over it.) The little phisch is also quite the drama king. He has a great fake death scene, acting it out more than once when I stabbed him in the tummy. We should get video of that.

links for 2007-03-20

Happy days are here again

Ameriquest Field is no more. Long live Rangers Ballpark in Arlington! Personally, I could have done without the addition of "Rangers" to the original name for the park, but I can live with it. I never cared for the corporatization of The Ballpark's name; why would you rush to rename your ball field when it has such a classic name as "The Ballpark at Arlington"? I pretty much refused to dignify the corporate name by speaking it, and have continued, lo these many years, to simply refer to it as "The Ballpark". And now it's "The Ballpark"--only with "Rangers" in there, too--once again. Best of all, that stupid bell in the left field mid deck is gone, gone, gone!

Real faith

Mike Messerli:

There's a lot of discussion about faith these days. I hear many on Television telling me it's a force. They tell me that I can "use" my faith and make things happen. I have watched as many of them worship at the altar of faith and elevate it above the God who is supposed to be the object of their faith.

Let me simplify this a little. The bible makes it clear that faith is simply a dependance on someone else to do for me what I cannot do myself. Real biblical faith is trusting God, and believing he will really do what he says. That's it! It's not hard. It's not a lever I pull to get a jackpot. It's not a formula that I can work to get God to act. [Emphasis added. --R]

Dropping number three

So yesterday was the third game of the spring softball season, and we faced for the first time--this season--the good folks from Flower Mound United Methodist Church. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I really like playing against these ladies and gentlemen. Lots of kindred spirits, they keep the game in perspective, and yes, it's really a lot of fun to win, but if you can't do that, at least have fun playing the game. The first inning was a back-and-forth affair, the score 1-1, our team playing the role of the visitor. The second inning we became unraveled, with their tacking on something like five or six runs. Before we knew it, we were down by seven, 9-2. Our defense tightened, but our hitting couldn't get anywhere. In the fifth inning, we staged something of a comeback, closing the run gap to only three, before we took our first out, but then it was two in a row, one of our hitters got on, and then the last out to end the game. It was a decent day for myself at the plate, going two for three. I didn't see a lot of action on defense, being in right-center. Had some stuff drop way short in front of me, which was surprising since the hitters were men, and no, they weren't trying to place the ball there, they were popping up and going just deep enough to get behind the second baseman. Two shots were deep, but high enough to pick up for easy catches. (Though the wind yesterday was hell on figuring out initial trajectory.) I'm just glad that nothing got behind me. We were missing a couple of our regulars, due to this being the first weekend of spring break for our school system, so things weren't quite running as smoothly as they might have otherwise. But it was an enjoyable game, and I, at least, had fun playing.

Suddenly I'm thinking...

...that it might be time to do a little shopping.

links for 2007-03-15

links for 2007-03-14

It happened

Last night, the missus had a work-related dinner to attend, so it was a guy night in the phisch bowl. The little phisch consumed mixed veggies and fish sticks (the irony of this statement is not lost on me), whereas I consumed mixed veggies with leftover red beans & rice. And we watched Star Wars. The first attempt at the viewing with my son of the movie which made such a tremendous impression upon me when I was six was met with some...boredom. He knew who some of the characters were, after all. I don't think you can know me at all, or swim in this tank we call home, without encountering, in some random, non-deliberate fashion, characters from the Star Wars universe. But we never really made it through that first viewing of the movie. Not together, anyway. While he decided he was bored and went off to play with Thomas on the train table, or roll Lightning McQueen around the floor, I finished watching the movie. Because, c'mon, it's Star Wars. I'm not sure what changed between then and now. Perhaps it was my receiving the entire Star Wars Mr. Potato Head collection for my birthday this past December. Darth Tater, Storm Tater, and R2 Tater have all occupied a place of semi-honor in the formal dining room, and the little phisch has been allowed to play with them. We've read this Luke Skywalker children's book I picked up two years ago at the Friends of the Flower Mound Library fund raiser. But we haven't really talked about the movie all that much. So I was pleased when I was greeted with a enthusiastic response after suggesting Star Wars last night. After dinner, we enjoyed watching about an hour of it. He asked a lot of questions. A lot. I'm not sure I can begin to describe the totality of "a lot of questions" to those of you who do not have three year-old boys. Bed time was approaching, and we agreed to stop the movie after an upcoming scene. The missus arrived home just about that time, the movie was stopped, and the bedtime rituals commenced. The payoff came this morning. I stumbled downstairs, where the missus and little phisch were already eating breakfast, and on the TV I'm greeted by...Star Wars. Han and Luke are firing down the detention bay while Leia's already diving in to the garbage chute, and Chewie's complaining about the smell. I'm informed, "Daddy, those are stormtroopers!" I smiled, gave him a pat on the head, and turned so the missus wouldn't see the tears welling up. It's done. He's converted. Oh, I forgot to mention he wants his own lightsaber now. He told me last night. Where are the tissues?

The new shirt arrived today


The new shirt arrived today


How much has actually changed

Mark Steyn, in the introduction to America Alone:

1970 doesn't seem that long ago. If you're in you fifties or sixties, as many of the chaps running the Western world are wont to be, your pants are narrower than they were back then and your hair's less groovy, but the landscape of your life--the look of your house, the layout of your car, the shape of your kitchen appliances, the brand names of the stuff in the fridge--isn't significantly different. And yet that world is utterly altered. Just to recap those bald statistics: in 1970, the developed nations had twice as big a share of the global population as the Muslim world: 30 percent to 15 percent. By 2000, they were at parity: each had about 20 percent.

And by 2020?

September 11, 2001, was not "the day everything changed," but the day that revealed how much had already changed. On September 10, how many journalists had the Council on American-Islamic Relations or the Canadian Islamic Congress or the Muslim Council of Britian in their Rolodexes? If you'd said that whether something does or does not cause offense to Muslims would be the early twenty-first century's principal political dynamic in Denmark, Sweden, the Netherlands, Belgium, France, and the United Kingdom, most folks would have thought you were crazy. Yet on that Tuesday morning the top of the iceberg bobbed up and toppled the Twin Towers.

This book is about the seven-eighths below the surface--the larger forces at play in the developed world that have left Europe too enfeebled to resist its remorseless transformation into Eurabia and that call into question the future of much of the rest of the world, including the United States, Canada, and beyond. The key factors are:

  1. Demographic decline
  2. The unsustainability of the advanced Western social-democratic state
  3. Civilizational exhaustion

Let's start with demography, because everything does. I'm already enthralled.

Today's observations of the humans

The first observation took place as I was nearing the end of my lunch. I was still masticating the remnants of fried corn tortillas, the rest of the meal vanquished, when a mother and her daughter were seated in the booth behind me. Seated as I was, I was able to view them as they entered the restaurant, interacted with the hostess/waitress, and moved to their table. The mother was on her mobile phone the entire time. It was obvious from her side of the conversation this was a good friend, and the conversation was quite pleasant, resulting in a few giggles and laughs. The conversation continued throughout the seating process, the delivery of the menus, paused briefly to place drink orders, then continued. At about this point I lost interest, returning my full focus to the contents of the magazine I had brought with me. The judgmental thought which entered my mind was this: what must this woman's daughter think of the fact that they are out to lunch on a school day and her mother is on the phone? Now this young lady may have thought nothing of it. She appeared to be the age of those attending middle school, and may have cared less that her mother was on the phone. Certainly there are those in their teen and pre-teen years who are thoroughly embarrassed to be seen in public with their parents, even if there is little or no chance of their being seen by their peers. She may have had this attitude. She may have also wondered how in the world her mother could ignore her by continuing to chat on the phone with a friend. Perhaps lunch between mother and daughter is nothing special. Plenty of us go out to eat or eat at home with some sort of constant interruption. For myself, we're making a concerted effort to have media turned off and phones put away during dinner at home. The little phisch isn't old enough for GameBoys or PSPs yet, so when we're out to eat--and I don't see why parents allow their children to play with such devices while they're eating out--we don't have that distraction, and we minimize the interruption by the mobile phone. Behind my wife and child, I love my parents more than anyone else on this blue marble, but I'd still ask them if I could call them back when we're finished eating. There is a part of me looking forward to the day when I say to a friend or family member, "Hey, I'd really like to talk more about this, but can I call you back? I'm having lunch with my son."

* * *

The second observation took place shortly thereafter, as I transported from the restaurant to the grocery store for a few staples. As I entered the checkout line, I observed two women in front of me, of similar height and similar dress. The one closest to me was clearly a young lady, most likely high school age, perhaps early college. From the look and dress of the other woman with her, my first instinct was that of a friend. I learned soon enough, however, when the second woman turned to pay the cashier, that she was in fact the young lady's mother. On the one hand, I think that if a woman has the figure to wear the same clothes as her daughter, more power to her. On the other hand, there is a part of me that wants to scream, "Grow up already!"

* * *

The final observation for this post concerned the time in transport from the grocery to my abode. I have long been fascinated by the concept of "talking with one's hands", and I do not refer to sign language when I say this. Some people can simply not help but gesticulate while speaking. This goes beyond the mere use of gestures to get a point across. It is as if, as my mother put it, some people would suddenly go mute if you were to tie their hands behind their back. Either that, or their bodies would convulse wildly to compensate. Such was the nature of the man in the pickup truck in front of me. His left hand held a mobile to his ear, while his right hand gestured repeatedly throughout the conversation. He was, quite simply, driving with nothing more than one wrist. This was deeply troubling. Granted, we were never above approximately forty miles an hour with regard to our speed, but his behavior could have led to disastrous consequences. It made me ponder whether I should keep a stash of hands-free sets in my vehicle to toss at random to such persons.

1-1

I totally forgot to blog about the spring softball season opener last week, so for those of you who could really care less, here's all there is to know up through today's play. There are only four teams in the league this season, which is kind of crummy, but this just means we play everyone three times instead of the usual two. The newcomers are from Westside, and I don't know if that's Baptist, Methodist, Church of Christ, or whatever; I should have asked them when we played them today, but just like forgetting to blog about the game last week... Right, last week. We opened against Faith Lutheran, and to sum up, our hitting didn't show up and theirs did. We chalked it up to the team gelling--we've got a few new players--and getting back in to the rhythm of play. Like the rest of the team, my own time at the plate wasn't well spent. I was only one of three, including hitting in to a fielder's choice. I was in left-center while on defense. I let one ball get behind me, and another took a wicked doink! off my glove, both of which allowed for extra bases. I owned the third inning, though. All three outs came at the expense of their hitting my way, and it was especially pleasing to get that last out while on the run. So the first game was a loss, but we were optimistic about the future, and we'll have two more cracks at the Lutherans. Today we played Westside, and it's always interesting playing a team for the first time. They won the toss and elected to bat first, and the first inning didn't go well for us, with their scoring five runs. The extra bases were usually a case of our team trying to make something happen when we would've been better off just hanging on to the ball. We put a run on the board, but gave up another in the top of second. But then it was time for our bats, to quote one Pedro Cerrano, "to wake up". The end result was a 17-8 victory for our squad. Our defense settled down and tightened up as the game progressed. I was at short this time around, and had a chance at turning a double play twice, but couldn't manage either. I took a cleat-clad toe to the knee while tagging one guy out at second, so that's slightly swollen and aching quite nicely, thanks. The injury streak continues! My pal Brad was monster at the plate today, ripping an in-the-park homer his first time up, putting a few runs on the board. His second trip to the plate was a triple which netted us at least one more run. No chance at hitting the cycle, though, as with only an hour to play, he only had one more at-bat, and popped out to left-center. I was .667 at the plate today, with an unintentional bunt my first time up. Hey, it advanced a runner, and I made it to first without a throw even being attempted. (I may be chunky, but I'm quick.) I'll take it. My last at-bat was my best thus far in the early season, a shot in to left-center I should've stretched in to a double: I thought the fielder had made a good catch off the ground and was coming up throwing, so I trotted back to first when I could've been going to second. Oh, well; the base coach thought he was going to get the ball back in quick, too. I did bring in two runs on that shot, so I'm hoping that's a trend for the rest of the season. My RBI total this past fall was paltry. So the team's at five hundred two games in, and we played much better during this second game. Things look to be a little tough for us next week; we'll be short one of our gals (meaning with only nine players we have to take an out at the top of the batting order), and we'll be playing our friends from Flower Mound UMC. Of course, this latter means I'm really looking forward to the game, as it's always fun playing against them.

Quite the memory

The memory capacity of three year-olds is amazing. As we were wrapping up dinner, my wife put forth the possibility of our going out for some ice cream for dessert. We kept this to ourselves for a few moments, thinking we may need to use it as a possible bribe with the little phisch. We did not have to, thankfully, and when we mentioned going out for ice cream, he stated he wanted "Cookie Monster Ice Cream!" Cookie Monster Ice Cream?!?!? So on the way to Emack & Bolio's, the missus and I are wondering if this is one of their flavors. If it is, then we would be suitably impressed, as the last time we were at E&B's, it was before Christmas, and the little phisch remembered having it more than three months ago. We walk in the door, and sure enough, there it is: Cookie Monster Ice Cream. Cookies and cream, with chocolate-chip cookie dough mixed in. One kid's cup was ordered up. The boy has some memory. This could be trouble.