Shoes, Ships, and Sealing Wax

If it's not one heartbreak it's another

Stupid baseball:

Washington parts with outfielder Church, catcher Schneider

It's the Brian Schneider part of that that hurts. The guy's been with the same franchise his whole career, clubhouse leader, fan favorite...

I know we needed a center fielder, and I know Jesus Flores exceeded expectations last season. So this trade makes sense, it just depresses me to see Schneider go. (And because we play the Mets like, once a week, I guess we'll still see plenty of him.)

Ah well. The silver lining to my decreased passion for hockey is that I'm not so heartbroken by trades; I'm not attached to any individual players. Another thirty-some years, maybe I'll be that indifferent to baseball, too.

This is not depressing German poetry

Victor thinks the German poetry is too depressing. I thought it was seasonally appropriate, but maybe I need to stare into my sunlamp a little more.

Anyway, he made me watch this.

I love the Misers. Like all right-thinking people, I like Snow Miser better, but I have to admit, lately, as I get older and my joints get sorer, I never wanna see a day that's under 60 degrees...

More German poetry

Back when my teacher had us memorize poems, there was some grumbling among us students, but she was firm. Besides, she told us, someday we'd be glad we knew those poems...having one memorized was like having a treasure you could keep forever, she said.

So we memorized Herbsttag, so we could carry around a fairly depressing treasure. Then, just to make Rilke seem like Dr. Seuss, she had us memorize Der Erlkönig. (Scroll down on that link, Wikipedia has it in German and English.)

I don't know about forever, but it has obviously stuck with me for twenty-five years. I just came in from outside, where it is dark and windy and the walk from the mailbox was sort of eerie, and I was thinking durch Nacht und Wind.

Curious

I have been thinking the last few days about a poem I had to memorize in junior high school German class. I couldn't quite remember all of the words, and I never have read a real English translation, just the translation I had to do in class.

So I turned to Google, and coincidentally, the site where I found the poem and the translation belongs to a DC poet, and the day he posted the poem was...today.

I actually don't find huge deep significance to this...it's a poem about fall. Wind is blowing, leaves are dead, I wouldn't be surprised if the same things that made the poem go through my mind inspired the other guy's post.

Anyway, the poem was Herbsttag, by Rainer Maria Rilke.

Herr: es ist Zeit. Der Sommer war sehr groß.
Leg deinen Schatten auf die Sonnenuhren,
und auf den Fluren laß die Winde los.

I'm not sure how I feel about it in English...the German sounds more like a cold wind to me.

Worth thinking about

Dawn sent me to this: Your Jerk Boss is Her Favorite Uncle.

I actually had this experience. I worked with a guy who drove me up a wall...petty, bureaucratic. I had to deal with him during a prolonged project, and towards its end I had to go to his office to receive some unwelcome input. I was hating him with every fiber of my being when I arrived at his door.

I had to wait for him to get off the phone, allowing me time to see the handmade father's day cards on his bulletin board, the baseball clumsily autographed by his little league players, and the photos of the admittedly adorable children.

I though: these kids idolize this man, and I hate him.

I wonder if anybody hates my dad?

Equal time

Since I've spent so much time bitching about the Caps the last few weeks, it's only fair that I now show some public appreciation.

That was a hockey game.

The first power play, I was watching how the guys were skating and I thought it's like they are setting up an actual specific play...and so they were.

They were passing instead of dumping, even drop passes that would have been just plain drops last week were picked up, no inexcusable penalties...the first period was as good as any game I've seen in years, I think, and the second and third weren't bad.

You know who I'm starting to really like? Alex Ovechkin. (Never said I was an early adapter, ok?)

No, seriously...of course I've been impressed all along by his puck handling and his shots, but I'm not wowed by a flashy offensive type. (My favorite forward of all time is Doug Jarvis, followed closely by Gaetan Duchesne.) But this season...and this includes some of the horrific games...I've seen some nifty defense from OV too.

I could have mentioned that awhile ago, but I've been too busy, as I said, bitching. But not tonight! In fact, I was so please by tonight's effort that I finally bought a shirt with the new logo, and during the game, I didn't mention baseball once.

Happy Thanksgiving after all

While I was out wandering in the woods this morning:

Hanlon Fired

From Tarik El-Bashir's eyewitness account of practice:

Boudreau has only been on the ice for about 40 minutes, but I can already point out some major differences in how he deals with players. First of all, he's a yeller. He's barks encouragement and instructions constantly during drills -- something you rarely heard from Hanlon, who was more reserved on the ice.

The players also have to race over to the eraser board when Boudreau blows his whistle. The last player to the huddle is forced to skate a lap. Just saw Erskine do one.

Back to my happy place

I think it's coming into focus, why I'm so mad about the way the Caps are playing.

I'm pissed because they aren't.

Every interview I've heard, the quotes from coaches and players have been of the "eh, the goals aren't coming, we have to find a win," variety.

I know I keep going back to baseball...you know I love Manny Acta. He is soft spoken, laid back, and didn't throw chairs at his players during their slumps. But his players were practically rookies and AAAers...not unlike the Caps in the post-lockout season. Then, I didn't want to see Hanlon throwing chairs either.

The rebuild is over. This is a team with too much talent for this shit. I want to see somebody, if not throwing a chair, at least acting like they give a damn. They owe that to the fans who are paying a ridiculous amount of money to come see them play.

I know I've said this before, too: bad, I can handle. Incompetent, I can related to. But I hate indifferent, stupid, sloppy play. (And with the Caps, it isn't 100% bad, you know. There are flashes of what they can be, and should be. I just want to see it from all the players for sixty straight minutes.)

I dunno. There's a lot more important things in the world to worry about, and this sports hobby thing is supposed to be fun. I'm going to my happy place (while it still is a happy place):

Anybody wanna go to the hockey game tomorrow night?

Yeah, that's kinda how I feel about it, too.

There's just one other hockey fan at my office that I know of, and I bumped into him today. We both just shook our heads. "How long, do you think?" I asked him.

"Three more games?" he said. "If we lose three more bad games, I don't see how he can't."

We didn't even have to say Hanlon or fire.

And, I can't say I disagree with those wanting McPhee out either, but I think the coach has a more direct influence, day-to-miserable, excruciating day.

Nothing personal against Hanlon, he can be a fine coach for some team, it's just not this team at this time.

... ... ...

Y'know, it's too painful to even write about it. Which is interesting, because it means I still care. I got my seat location for Nationals Park the other day...up by the press box, an aisle like I asked for. I'm pretty pleased. And the pictures of the park...oh my. It will be glorious. I could say "Screw hockey" and focus on how Justin Maxwell (former Terp, y'know) did with the Peoria Javelinas.

But it's winter. It's hockey season.

And it looks like I won't have to worry about conflicting games in April.

Mixed message

In a Virginia rest stop rest room:

In case it's not clear: that is indeed a hook.

For your viewing pleasure

Number one in the series Rusty Locks of Williamsburg.

Actually I had twenty-eight hours, so I took a few pictures that were not of rusty locks.

Williamsburg

Here, for anybody with the patience to actually look at the whole thing, a brain teaser: There is one picture where I intentionally shot somebody in 20th century (er, 21st century) clothes. Can you tell why?

For the most part, these are the pictures as I took them...I had to crop a few to straighten out some horrifically tilted horizons, but I haven't had time to mess with correcting color or lighting. I was trying to get back into the habit of composing the picture in the viewfinder, not relying on Photoshop, and I'm not too unhappy with the results.

I need to go back and count. I think I ended up with six rusty locks, and there may be more with the "reflection in/view through wavy glass" theme.

On Sunday

Monday may have sucked enough to be three days, but Sunday was nice. Instead of torturing ourselves with the Redskins game, we went on another hike. Apparently we just missed the beavers:

The dead deer being eaten by the birds of prey was sort of fascinating too, but a little to gruesome for pictures. I hope the deer died of some natural cause and not a poacher...apparently around here people do shoot bucks for the antlers, and leave the rest of the carcass. That is just criminal. Well, it literally is criminal, of course, but you know what I mean.

We wore our blaze orange...no hunters will be shooting us accidentally. The fashion police, on the other hand...

Oh, and we are still in a drought. If we'd had a normal amount of rain this season, I'm not sure I'd have been crossing that creek when it was only 50 degrees. As it was I still made Victor go first.

What does it say about Monday?

I was talking to my sister today. My nephew (who's had a bit of a rough start to the school year, behavior-wise) was awarded a free "no uniform day" for his good behavior this week.

"Cool, so what did he wear to school today?" I asked.

"Well, the no-uniform day has to be on a Thursday or Friday," she told me.

"So he's doing it tomorrow, then?"

She looked at me funny. "Thursday or Friday, Nic. Today is Tuesday."

Damn, and I here I'd been thinking I was only a day away from the weekend.

See, adrenaline and jello

Another thing. Two things.

I wasn't sure if I liked the instant replay in baseball idea. Sure, the Nats were hosed on some calls last season, but a bunch that I recall were at second base anyway, and who doesn't eventually suffer the wrath of a blind umpire once in awhile?

I decided for sure that I didn't like instant replay in baseball when I heard (or read the closed-captioning; I was in a restaurant) Tony Kornheiser come out for it on PTI.

(Ok, I'm not actually that knee-jerk, but boy I don't like that guy. Really, I don't want anything that would make baseball games even longer; I have trouble staying awake through nine innings most nights as it is.)

Two: When Tampa Bay gets to town on Saturday, I propose the Caps trade Glen Hanlon for apparently also-beleaguered Lightning coach John Tortorella. That would be a hell of style change, but maybe some ass-kicking is what the team needs. (Or maybe it would send Olie into retirement and the star children back to Europe, but change is risk, right?)

Man, I'm grumpy. But I promise not to use ass and kick in any more posts this week.

I think Beaker said it best

Mimimimimimimi.

I had to cover training for somebody else today. I hate public speaking. I once took a letter grade drop in a class because I just couldn't do the required oral report. Because public speaking scares the crap out of me, I get the fight-or-flight thing going, and with all this adrenaline, I'm not going to sleep for three days...but with the mental energy I needed to spend to put on the Public Speaking Nic suit, my brain is jello.

But the training was not the most interesting part of the day. That came when I got a phone call from one of the lawyers telling me that a guy with a gold badge on his business card wanted to ask me some questions.

Add that adrenaline rush, and I might as well be cliff diving. I probably won't sleep for six days.

I must say, though: "Special Agent" is a kick-ass job title.

I think Ezra Pound said it best

Winter is icummen in,
Lhude sing Goddamm.
Raineth drop and staineth slop,
And how the wind doth ramm!
Sing: Goddamm.

Skiddeth bus and sloppeth us,
An ague hath my ham.
Freezeth river, turneth liver,
Damn you, sing: Goddamm.

Goddamm, Goddamm, 'tis why I am, Goddamm,
So 'gainst the winter's balm.

Sing goddamm, damm, sing Goddamm.
Sing goddamm, sing goddamm, DAMM.

~Ancient Music
Ezra Pound

More dental work

I'm numb, yet in pain.

Kids, don't try to go ten years between visits to a dentist.