Spring Training

I wish I could get invited to take part in a spring training camp. Not with the hopes of making the team, or even for the chance to toss a ball with the pros, but simply to get the hell out of this cold weather.

Cleaning the car off at 3 in the morning when taking Carolyn home has lost all of its novelty. As have the snow covered streets that seem to have been neglected by plows for at least the last 3 snowfalls, and one rainfall that served to polish the layers into a hard, rutted, suspension destroying mess. Save a couple dollars in taxes by not having the plow go down the street, cost hundreds later in having to prematurely replace shocks and struts. But at least we have RIM Park to show for our tax dollars.

I suppose there are sillier ways to restructure taxes.

And at least no-one around here is paying elected officials to analyze performance enhancement in baseball in as long and drawn out a public sham as possible. I would be shocked to see anything more than stern warnings and a tap on the wrist come of it all. But then, GW needs a sport to come back to when he's done fucking the rest of his country in a year. Better to have his attention on anything but politics I say. So, welcome spring training! Time to go get some home opener tickets.

And I'm still looking for you fantasy baseballers. Info is in the previous post.

Dusty Springcleaning

When I undertook the notion of renovating my room, I neglected the lack of space elsewhere in the house for my crap. Two days later I think I've cleared out all that is going to find a temporary home elsewhere, without moving bulky furniture up or down stairs.

In cleaning up the attic so that I can clear the wool insulation (with a high proportion of high R factor mouse droppings) away from my ceiling to rip it down, I am across a bunch of old crap my parents had stored away and time forgot. My dad was a notorious packrat, and so amongst the crap he left behind I found a yellowed copy of a newspaper from the first day of the 1990 Gulf War, and a box of 24 empty Coca Cola World Series commemorative cans with the scores from the games in the Jays 1992 title over the Braves.

Amongst the other random boxes, I found a box of my mom's old dolls, all of them staring up to greet me as I removed the lid, and a number of old beer coasters from brews that likely are no longer available to add to my bottle collection.

But a trip to the LCBO to feed the thirst of inhaling two days of dust and spiderwebs provided me with four new flavours to explore during poker tonight. Two germans, a french, and finally a true aussie. Maybe a review with their names pending.

Bubble Machine

One exam down, three to go in the next 65 hours or so. That's 100 carefully shaded in scantron bubbles so far, and too many more to go. Since its finals time again, my nose today started emulating the outdoor faucet on the side of the house that froze and cracked this winter. I'm sure the people sitting next to me absolutely loved my sniffling tonight.

I don't feel the least bad for it though after all the sniffling, rustling, inappropriate questions and cell phones I've put up with over the years.

And in less than 3 days it will all be over, and time for some relaxation and a trip down to Toronto on Tuesday night where I won't have to worry about undue traffic around the ACC. I wonder what Mats is handicapping these days?

In more worthy Toronto team news, both the Jays and Raptors pulled off huge wins over Detroit tonight. If you asked me, or any honest person, in October if I could imagine the Raptors with a shot at 2nd place in the Eastern Conference, there would of course have been an emphatic 'no', but what a show these guys have put on. And with the average age of this team, things should only be looking up for the next 3 or 4 years. Bryan Colangelo deserves most of that credit for pulling together the talent pool he has, but Sam Mitchell also deserves an apology from me for being very much a skeptic of his coaching ability. Ultimately he's the one that's gotten this team believing there is no 'I'.

And now I have nothing except psychology terms and bacteria names plying into the little folds of tissue in my head so its time to climb back into my hole, grab some vaporub, throw on the tube and get some sleep.