Picture Blog

 I was amused- did you ever expect the front seat of my car to look like this?

This is not the best shot of me, but it's the kindest to everyone else. This is my group intact, after the news of change, but before its implementation. 

 

This is for Mom.

Tiny functioning rolltop desk that I saw at the thrift store!

Nice, red leather Fossil bag I found at the thrift store and purchased for a mere $16.

Sarah and I at Risk! Live. Risk! is one of my favorite podcasts- they collect crazy stories from people through studio recordings or live shows like this one.

Sadly, Reno did not really impress. To be fair, when any podcast plays an entire live show, it's kind of lame. It's much better when it's cultivated. I really enjoyed one story, was mildly entertained by two, and one was unbelievably boring. They pick a theme for each show, presumably to spark inspiration, and Reno's theme this year was mind fuck. My reaction to that was oh jeez, it's going to be a bunch of drug stories. Only two of the four were, but yeah. One of those was this rambling, plotless "I was so high..." non-goddamn-story with a random lesson thrown in at the end of it. But I am also a judgy asshole, so make sure you take that into account. The podcast is fabulous, and it makes me laugh, cry, and think so much that I protect my listening time carefully. Most of the presenters on it are billed as writers/storytellers, and Risk! teaches storytelling workshops. What I've learned from listening to this and other storytelling podcasts is that the people who are most successful are not the ones most practiced at getting on stage, but the ones who tell an actual story that's well-constructed and has an ending. I have been spoiled by the podcast, but it was still neat to be in the audience for a live show. If they use any of these stories for their podcast in the upcoming months, will I remember it immediately? Will I recognize my laugh?

These munchkins are well trained. I found them sitting here at 10, waiting for their nighttime cookies to be hidden.

 

http://www.rgj.com/picture-gallery/news/2015/07/20/photos-2015-reno-superhero-crawl/30416445/

That's the link to pictures from the Superhero Crawl. There are some pretty awesome costumes in there.

Here is our picture from the RGJ!

Batter Upright

Last night’s softball game:

 

I begged the universe to send nothing to right field so I could just stress out over batting. During the third inning, I was first up to hit. I’d been low and late, was still stressed from trying to get through traffic, not looking forward to playing, and worried about my blood sugar. In the outfield, I walk up to the orange dots for female batters and run back to the fence for the guys. The lineup alternates, and they use a lighter ball for females. It may be sexist, but moving up seems to be a sound theory, and makes me want to practice batting enough to become a pro at hitting over the outfielders’ heads.

 

I had to run in, throw down my glove, pick up a bat, and get right in the batter’s box. I hit the ball on the first pitch during my first (and only) at bat. It was a weak grounder, and the pitcher ran to pick it up, but I ran it out anyway- my teammates cheering me on from the dugout. I saw the ball arrive at first base before I did, but tagged the orange bag and my team roared- the first baseman had dropped the ball, and I was safe. Cristine came out to be my base coach, and I made it to second on the next batter. Cristine said this time I had to run no matter what. Kristen hit, I saw the ball hit the ground and hauled ass for third.

 

It took me a moment to widen my focus- I was so intent on being ready to run home that I didn’t understand why the pitcher was walking past me. He was one of those really good-looking guys that knows it, and he turned his head to stare at me, smirking. Somebody somewhere called “Out!” and I finally realized that Kristen had been picked off at first, and I wasn’t going to get to try for home. “And nobody tells me?” I say, and the tall first baseman heading to the dugout laughs, but not unkindly, so I start imagining what our life together will be like. It’s hard not to boyfriend shop at this place- they all look good in their shorts and athletic abilities. But I digress.

 

We lost the game 14-1, but Cristine said she’s played that team in higher leagues, and they should still be there. The umpire agreed, but I don’t imagine anything will come from that. It’s poopy, though, because this is supposed to be just one step up from Can’t Play At All. The game ended early due to some mercy rule, so I found myself done after the 4^th inning. Cristine invited me to join her family and a couple teammates at Steak & Shake, and I spent the rest of the evening enjoying funny stories and a guacamole steakburger. Now, THAT I can do.

Tools of the Tirade

I don't know what's up, but I am going to get a soft pretzel with a friend in about an hour, and when I get home from that I will drink a beer, and hopefully that will reset everything, because tomorrow is the next softball game and I am already dreading that way more than is reasonable, so I don't think it will help if I am still in an unsettled mood.

Today went downhill mostly because a coworker was being a stressed out asshole. It's understandable (kinda) because she was participating in an audit, but another part of her job came up that I could see was going to come crashing down on her through no fault of her own. Somebody sent out a facility-wide email about training that wasn't posted yet with her contact info for problems. I thought it would be good to alert her- holy shit, was that a phenomenally bad idea. I got shit on then, I got shit on later, and then she came back to shit on me one more time in the worst non-apology I have received in a while.

It was all about how she thought I was being just like everyone else that comes running to her when there's a problem with the computer system, or they forgot how to do something, or to debate something that has nothing to do with her. I get that it's frustrating. I also see problems with the availability of the answers, but my thoughts are always brushed off. Had she been listening when I told her the problem, it would have been clear that I was trying to give her a heads up.

When she came to shame me some more, her body language was bristling. She was downright spitty, and couldn't hear my apology for the misinterpretation or my explanation of what I was trying to do. She stomped out with the sarcastic words, "I'm just the worst (program name) manager ever."

Ok, so
1) That's clearly how she thought this snafu made her look.
2) Her overreaction had not a damn thing to do with me or the way I presented it (or its timing, which is another issue I got flogged with, because I let her know as soon as possible).
3) That was some seriously unprofessional and shitty behavior.

Even though I could identify these things as she was doing them- knew that it was an overreaction, that it was stress, that it wasn't about me... I couldn't help but feel shaken. I'm still bothered now, obviously. That kind of shit magnifies every other not perfect thing that happens until it turns into a poopy day- and it wasn't! I got some good progress in on a lot of projects, nobody else was an asshole, I had no painful physical ailments, I didn't wreck the car on the way home... it just sucks that somebody having a bad day can ruin mine, even when I am conscious of that AND the part where it has nothing to do with me. Why doesn't seeing that help even a little bit?

Seeing it doesn't, but writing about it does.

She just tried to call me. The phone was still on silent from work, but I'm glad I missed it. I'm done today. I do wonder what I will say when she brings it up tomorrow. Here's my draft:

What I learned yesterday is that I should not try to warn you of incoming shitstorms, because you will shoot the messenger.

Is that shitty? I have such trouble finding my way to a simple, assertive truth. I don't want to join in the bad behavior, and I don't want to get caught in irrelevance.

Last night I found a big ass ant on my front door. I have not been able to identify it, but it was very big and tried to sting when I evicted it. It was hanging out in the seal to the door, and going further in each time I saw it. I had my standard bug removal supplies (a cup and a postcard) and I'm pretty practiced at this, but this sucker gave me trouble. He fell into some empty cobwebs, and I helped him into the cup. Downstairs, I upended the cup over the bush out front, shining my flashlight to ensure he wasn't still in there or on me. In a horrifying flash, a spider leapt out, held half its body up in attack, and bit the ant. The ant struggled away through the web, surely encumbered by the earlier cobwebs, and the spider attacked twice more, then they both disappeared within the bush. I didn't help- it happened too fast, and I tried to convince myself of the natural order. Of course, an ant like that would not normally drop from the sky straight into the web. I apologized and felt like such an asshole. I was trying to move him away from me and my animals, and unintentionally delivered him to his death. I wondered if he stung the spider and they both died. I wondered if I should have tried to rescue him from the spider, but no, I thought- you've helped enough. Today, of course, in the daylight, I see that the bush is covered in spiderwebs and I realize that I probably put the spider in that bush- another displaced refugee from my apartment. I don't know how long I will replay the consequences of my actions in my head.

Yes, it's that bad. This is how I am. But my friend Sarah said something today in response to my emotionally explosive coworker (someone even less emotionally stable than me!). She said, "You were trying to do the right thing."

I guess that will have to be enough.

First Game

Who had the idea to let me play softball? Who thought it would be a good idea to put me on a team? Especially a team that doesn't practice? Holy shit... 

Tonight was my first softball game. I didn't play well, but Cristine and Amanda said I did good. Cristine was happy that I hit the ball. Argghhhh but oh well. I'll get better, I'm sure. I'm also sure I'll make some stupid mistakes on the way, hurt myself somehow, have fun, and drink a good amount of beer.

Our team name is Prestige Worldwide. This (and the picture below) is a joke from Stepbrothers that I don't remember, so I guess I'll have to watch that again. When the jerseys were handed out, I volunteered to take 0. I'll be the underdog.

Pregame selfies and beer. Next week is another shot at glory and redemption. Amanda did great, of course, as did Cristine, because they're awesome and know how to play. Kristen is on a trip- she'll be back next week. I'm excited that tomorrow I get to come home, walk Riley, and watch Cupcake Wars, where people stress out over important things like frosting consistency and event-appropriate decorations.

It was a seriously beautiful night. The park sits a little above Reno, and there was a gorgeous cotton candy sunset. The pink and blue clouds were visible in the full 360 degrees, and while I didn't know what I was doing, I was sure happy to be out there in the fabulous weather against this pretty, pretty backdrop. It was the perfect night for clueless softball.

I got this picture right after the game, and it hopefully gives you just a hint of how beautiful and true those colors were.

I needed a minute to wind down before I could go to bed, and I'm pretty sure I'm ready.

Lovely Weekend

I'm gonna write this now instead of getting ready for bed because I'm not tired at all, and I'll regret it tomorrow morning.

Friday night I made two more converts with Betty Crocker's veggie lasagna recipe. They enjoyed it so much that I only had one serving left over... which actually suits me just fine. It's good, I just don't want to eat anything three times in a row.

Saturday I went to a makeup tennis lesson and reinforced my preference for playing at 7. When our group was discussing options last Wednesday, my instructor referred to his open time as "high noon," and yeah- good grief. There's some conditioning for you.

I've been playing better since Kristen taught me how to bat. When I find myself screwing up, I return back to the primary advice and watch the ball all the way to the connection, which is less instinctive than it sounds. Don't swing back too far, plant my feet, drop the racquet down, swing low to high, follow through... these are all important steps, but secondary to watching that ball. It feels more import to watch where you want it to go, like when riding a bike, but that leaves too long of a moment and too much of a guess about the meeting of the ball and your racquet. Watching it all the way to the connection is both satisfying and successful. Kristen says if you watch the ball, you'll hit it. It may not go where you want, but you'll hit it. I hit it over and I hit in in when I watch the connection. It's interesting, because it is the same problem I am encountering with diabetes: I am trying to anticipate the future. I am often watching where I think the ball is going to go instead of where it is.

I spent the rest of the afternoon running errands to complete my costume for the Superhero Crawl that night. Sarah talked me into going, and made so many suggestions for characters I knew nothing about that I started wracking my own brain for superheroes I loved. I kept coming back to Unbreakable, a movie by my beloved Shyamalan. Sarah wouldn't let me be Security (Wo)man, whose costume was a poncho, so we concocted a female version of Mr. Glass. For his glass cane, I went to a plastics company I knew of in the industrial part of Sparks, and sure enough, they had plexiglass rods. I got a piece cut, found a cane tip at Walmart, then went to Home Depot to find a handle. I originally thought an antique store doorknob would be neat, but had no idea how I would attach it. At the Depot, I saw this one employee and felt like he was the guy to ask. He was helping someone else, so I kept walking and took a loop through the store for inspiration. No doorknobs or curtain rod ends were cheap enough to consider, and I ended up back in his area. Feeling less than optimistic, I followed intuition and told him what I was up to. Turns out he makes costumes. Thinking out loud, he led me towards the doorknobs, but stopped at the drawer pulls, where he found a nice lucite option. He had suggestions for how to attach it. When I confessed that I don't own a drill, he led me back to his area, pulled out a toolbox, cut the head off the drawer pull's screw, drilled a hole into the plexiglass rod, and screwed on the mini doorknob. Done.  How awesome is that? This cane, which is the most identifiable piece of the costume, cost me less than $20. I bought the skirt at the thrift store for $3.

I had a blast at the crawl. A bunch of us met up at Harrah's, and you should have seen the getups. There was the Duff beer guy, lots of Captain Underpants, lots of Jokers, Flo from Progressive, a green and very buff Hulk, Iron Man complete with lights, Jabba the Hutt, Boba Fett, Princess Leia, tons of Ninja Turtles, male and female Wonder Womans, a Ghostbusters crew complete with Slimer and the Stay Puft marshmallow man, and of course, more Poison Ivies and Harley Quinns than you could shake a plastic cane at, but a noticeable dearth of Batmans. There was one girl who made a concerted and disgusting attempt at Two Face, and I did see Bane somewhere. Power Rangers, Star Lord, the dude from God of War, at least 30 Captain Americas, and one very sexy, shirtless, and painted Deadpool. And that's just what I remember. There were a ton of people out, and we only hit five bars (and the Gold & Silver: an all-night, casino diner well-known as THE place to eat when hammered).

My own group included a Ninja Turtle, Lara Croft, the Winter Soldier, Loki, some other villain from the Avengers, and the Princess of Power herself, She-Ra! Doesn't Sarah look great? She found the dress and boots at a thrift store, painted the boots gold, bought a plastic sword, and made the rest. Natalia did an awesome Tomb Raider, and Amanda said she assembled her costume five minutes before leaving the house.

I was delivered back home around 3, slept in until 1 this afternoon, hit IHOP and have been relaxing ever since, which is why it doesn't feel like a huge priority to get to bed. Of course, now it's way later than I expected, but I don't mind because you get to see our fun costumes and our pretty sunset and the 1500 piece puzzle that will be the death of me. I have had that thing for at least 5 years and never even opened the box. No wonder, huh?

Just hit the ball, honey.

I am way too tired to be composing a blog right now, but I just wanted to say that I am having fun, running around, learning new things, and that I am dirty, sweaty, and slightly bruised. Cristine, Kristen, and Amanda have all played a lot of softball, and the goal in our practices is to refresh them and teach me. It was a little unnerving today, because after our practice hitting and fielding, it was time to teach me about running the bases. I got to put my running on display. This was very difficult for me, as I feel like I run like a T-Rex. They deemed my running totally acceptable and non-dinosaur, and discussed whether I was underselling or just way too modest. They explained the base running decision making process, which I furrowed my brow at and asked questions about until I felt I understood just enough to not be able to retain it. Kristen then said my favorite thing ever about what it's like teaching me to play softball. "This would be much easier if she wasn't smart." She has said lots of funny, encouraging remarks about my efforts and athletic skills in this endeavor, but that one's my favorite.