Friday Funtimes–First CornBelters Game of 2012

On Sunday my friend Haley and I, along with her two kids, attended our first CornBelters game of the year. The season opened last Friday against the Windy City Thunderbolts and our game was a rubber match between the two teams. Unfortunately, the Thunderbolts weren’t the only storm in town. The game was stopped due to lightening after 3 1/2 innings and after a lengthy delay (most of which we waited out in the stands with only our freebie blankets to keep us dry!) the game was suspended.

The game will be finished when the CornBelters meet up with the Thunderbolts again in at the Windy City home field. However, for us damp fans, our tickets are comped for another game at the CornCrib because the CornBelters always take very good care of their fans.

Even though the game ended much earlier than we wanted and not the way we wanted, I still got a few pictures.

Home sweet home at the CornCrib.

2012 CornBelters warming up.

Justin Albert and Pat Trettle getting ready to get the game started.

Our favorite ex-Belter Mike Mobbs, now playing for Windy City.

The guys hanging out by the clubhouse while the Dancing Taco keeps the crowd entertained during the delay.

Sweet freebie CornBelters blanket.

New CornBelters souvenir cups advertising the All Star Game.

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Writing Wednesday–Of Yard Sales and Self-Publishing

Yard sale on Green Street in .

I had a yard sale last Saturday. I spent a week getting everything together, cleaning it off, pricing it, and getting the word out. Come Saturday, I put everything out and put up the signs.

I sold exactly one thing, made 50 cents (which wasn’t even mine because the sole thing I sold was something of my dad’s), and got a sunburn.

As I was packing everything away feeling like a failure, I realized that this yard sale attempt was a lot like my self-publishing venture.

I put a lot of work into my little book of short stories. I edited them, formatted them (several different times depending on the requirements of the place I was publishing it at), designed the cover. I did my best to make it look as professional as possible. I put the word out.

And I’ve made about 10 bucks all told.

My biggest failure in both of these ventures was promotion. I didn’t have the money to take out an ad in the paper or  pay for the marketing services offered by Lulu. Instead, I relied on word of mouth and social networking. Which is fine. My reach is a bit limited, but it’s still a reach. I have to hope that the people I tell then tell other people who tell other people and the people being told come to my sale or check out my little book.

And that’s the problem with a limited reach. The people I tell don’t necessarily tell anyone else. They don’t always look at the book or even care about the sale. And the same can be said of the people they tell if they do bother to tell them.

Relying so much on other people when dealing with something as subjective as books or yard sales seems to be a recipe for failure on my part. I’m not a natural salesman and I don’t have a huge fanbase. I’m putting my success into the hands of people that don’t have anything invested in it. In fact, a few of those people probably would prefer that I fail.

It’s a frustrating thing for me as there are times when I’d really like to be in total control of everything to put so much in the hands of other people. But then, I’m also very good at sabotaging myself for various reasons and in various ways, too.

I tend to work myself into no-win situations. Like the yard sale, my self-publishing excursion was pretty much doomed as soon as I got the idea.

When you’re only as good as your reach, I’ve got short arms.

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Turn Two Tuesday–Goodbye, Kerry

After a few days of thinking about it, I feel like I can put my feelings and thoughts into a coherent form without it sounding like nothing but sappy, saccharine drivel. Nothing screws up my Friday like finding out one of my boys is retiring.

A few weeks after Kerry Wood threw his twenty strikeout game against the Astros, I graduated high school. That was 14 years ago and in that time, the two of us have changed quite a bit. He went from starter to closer to setup man. He went from young phenom to a guy that fans called broken down and useless. He went from a chubby teenager to a grown man, a husband and daddy at that. I went from college student to dropout to student to dropout to student to dropout. I worked in retail, banking, and professional wrestling. I went from only seeing one game ever at Wrigley Field to making a point of going to the opening and closing homestands. I went from fat, single girl to…well, still fat and single, but a little more of a woman.

Really, the only thing Kerry Wood and I have in common is the number of times we’ve ended up on the DL.

But it still feels like we’ve grown up together in a sense, which is a stupid thought, but the only way I can explain it without mucking up the works. So his retirement strikes a chord with me. Just a couple of weeks before, at Casino Night, I told Harry that Kerry Wood was my guy. That so long as he played, then I wasn’t old. That night, just a couple of day or two after he chucked his glove into the stands after a frustrating outing, he was one of the last players to leave Casino Night, talking and taking pictures, a smile on his face. It was encouraging to me that despite the struggles he was having this season, he was still smiling.

Now maybe I know why.

As much as it saddens me to see Kerry Wood retire, his final appearance on the mound couldn’t have been happened any better. Ending his career as it began, with a strikeout, was beautiful. His son Justin running from the dugout to hug him as he left the mound brought tears to my eyes. His press conference the next day, all of his thank you’s, was another example of class (I got the tears again when he thanked Lester Strode because Lester is so often overlooked). I’d always hoped that when Kerry Wood left (and therefore left me to be officially old in baseball years) that it would be on a high note.

Really, I don’t think this note could have been any higher.

I wrote last week that Kerry Wood was veteran and a pro and that he would find a way to help his team. When I wrote that, I wasn’t thinking about retirement. But I guess he was. I guess this was the way he felt he could help them best.

I’ll miss you in pinstripes, Kerry. But I’m glad you’re a Cubs lifer.

I guess that’s one more thing we’ve got in common.

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Monday Megalomania–Venting Explosions Safely

Gas emissie uit de slapende vulkaan op de Fleg...

When I had a bout of major depression about 10 years ago, the therapist explained to me a line that I heard on an episode of M*A*S*H, but didn’t give much thought to. Depression is anger turned inward. And I was really good at holding all of my anger, stress, and frustration inside. The key to my recovery (if I didn’t want to go on medication and I didn’t), was to vent my anger, stress, and frustration in a safe, constructive way.

It was long after this, my mother gave me a journal for the now defunct Aunt Kiki Day. That journal became my outlet and it kept my anger, frustration, and stress from building up inside and poisoning me. It was a life saver really and it’s still my go-to way of relieving that kind of tension.

But there are times when I want to vent to an actual person. Like screaming into the void, sometimes I’d rather hear the words of my frustrations rather than just see them written down. Sometimes I’d rather let people know where I’m at and what my deal is.

Sometimes I would like a little support, even if it’s just someone listening.

The problem with this is that I don’t always have someone to vent to. The people in my life don’t always have time for such bullshit. They don’t care, don’t want to listen, and I don’t blame them. They have productive lives of their own. Why take time out to listen to me?

Not to mention that it’s such an established trope that I’m self-sustaining and I don’t NEED any support (that’s a post for a different day) that they don’t really think about me needing that sort of outlet. I’m the one THEY got to when THEY need to vent.

I used to vent on the Internet. Shouting into the void. The problem with that is now with social networking it’s getting harder and harder to vent without the people I’m venting about reading it and then getting offended.

Why not talk to them directly? In a perfect world, that sort of open communication would be nice. However, the reality is that people get offended by that sort of thing. I know from experience. I get pissed at people and the shit they do. I get annoyed with people and the shit they do. I’ve talked to people about the shit they do. And the reality is…nothing changes. In the end, it’s my fault for getting pissed or getting annoyed, they don’t change a damn thing, and the whole argument isn’t productive.

Venting is what I do because I can’t change them. And sometimes (getting more frequent), I can’t vent the way I want to so I can avoid opening a whole can of worms.

Which just adds to my frustration.

It’s a vicious cycle, one that I’m having a tough time escaping, partially because it’s one that’s partially of my own creation. And making the changes I need to make on my end doesn’t completely stop it.

It’s a bitch for sure.

It’s time for me to be a bigger one if things are going to change.

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Friday Funtimes–Casino Night 2012 Pictures

Between Harry and me, we only got a handful of pictures to share. I’ll be honest, I didn’t whip out my phone until the end of the night and the three pictures I managed to capture reflect that.

Honestly, I need a professional photographer to accompany me to these sorts of things because I am terrible.

Also, it’s easy to tell the difference between Harry’s pictures and mine. Harry’s are the good ones. I also thanked him in every caption.

Harry and I at Casino Night taken by a professional photographer who may or may not have been riding the biggest sugar high ever.

Bryan LaHair dealing (thanks Harry!).

Ian Stewart dealing (thanks, Harry!).

Carlos Marmol. I’m resisting the urge to make a joke about a line forming for the Marmol Coaster. (I didn’t resist hard.) (Thanks, Harry!)

Theo Epstein talking to Dale Sveum. (Thanks, Harry!)

Crystal Bowersox performing.

Somewhere in there is Paul Maholm, Chris Volstad, and James Russell.

That tall guy on the right is Chris Volstad.

That bald guy on the left is Paul Maholm.

David DeJesus and his lovely wife Kim (with cameos by Sarah Spain and Theo Epstein). (Thanks, Harry!)

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Writing Wedensday–Setting the Story

A CTA brown line train leaves Madison/Wabash s...

A CTA brown line train leaves Madison/Wabash station in the Chicago loop. Photographed from 41°52′58″N 87°37′34″W / °S °W / ; latd>90 (dms format) in latd latm lats longm longs looking south (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Most of my short stories take place in fictional places that only exist in my head. Some people notice that some of the small towns in my stories bear a striking resemblance to the small town I live in.

It’s true. I think my hometown is a great place to set a story. It’s got character and charm and personality. It looks sweet and innocent with a lurking darkside that just catches your eyes at the very edge of your line of sight. There are a lot of times that when I’m coming up with a story, a section of my small town pops right in there as the perfect place to set it.

The benefit of writing about a completely fictional place or one that I know very well is that I do know them so well. No one can tell me that I’m wrong. I don’t have to worry about people correcting me because I’ve either made everything up or I know everything so well. The details have to be good, of course, but I don’t have to worry about yanking people out of the story because I got something wrong.

Two of my novels are set in Chicago. Now, I spent a lot of time in the south suburbs about 10 years ago and I’ve been to Chicago several times, but I don’t KNOW Chicago. I don’t know the streets and the businesses and the people and the flow as well as I know my little town in the middle of nowhere. I can look on the map (and I’ve used Google maps A LOT) to get an idea of where things are so I can be technically correct about certain details and so I have an idea of where I’m at…literally…in a story.

But when it comes to the feel of a city, I have to actually walk the streets. I’ll have to experience the EL and the neighborhoods and the traffic for myself. As much as I’d like to gloss over these things, it’s these kind of details that can make or break a story. I can’t call an EL stop part of the Red Line when it’s actually a Brown Line stop (I have no idea how accurate this example even is). A mistake like that can totally wreck a story for someone.

Place is important. Stories don’t happen in a vacuum (unless for those in which they do). It’s important to get those little details right.

I guess this means that I’ll be spending a lot of time in Chicago if I want to get these stories right.

You know what

? I don’t mind.

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Turn Two Tuesday–Dolis, Lendy, Volstad, Wood, and Marmol

Kerry Wood

I know. It sounds like the line-up of some odd folk band, but in fact, they are the Cubs pitchers I’d like to discuss because there’s been so much garbage hurled their way.

First of all, let’s get the children out of the way. I touched on this on Twitter after the marathon loss in Milwaukee Friday night. I like Lendy. He’s got some stuff, but he needs some work. He’s young and in need of some control and polish. He hasn’t pitched above A ball. If the Cubs want to keep him, then they need to make a deal to keep him and then send him down or use him more. They’re doing him (and the rest of the bullpen) a disservice by sitting him most of the time. He needs regular work in order to get better.

Dolis has already shown that he does have some good stuff. Sveum is using him as part-time closer with Russell. But he too has control issues and he too has limited minor league experience, having not pitched above AA. When it comes to these two pitchers, I feel fans are too quick to go for the noose with them. They are going to have growing pains. Big, painful ones sometimes. Be patient.

Volstad has the curse of one bad inning. He struggles when guys get on base, but he’s shown glimmers of potential. He has the fans yearning for Carlos Zambrano. Well, kids, I hate to break it to you, but no matter how much you want it, you can’t undo that trade. We’ve got Volstad. He’s a Cub now and I’m rooting for him to get better. Now whether that improvement happens at the major league level or AAA is also out of my hands. I just want it to happen and I’m going to continue to look for and emphasize the positives about him while he’s in pinstripes. Call me stupid (I know you already are), but I’m going to do continue to hope he gets better. I’d also like to point out that he doesn’t exactly get a lot of run support. Those big innings loom bigger when nobody’s scoring any runs.

Kerry Wood is probably at the end of his career, but while he’s still pitching, I’d like to believe that as a veteran he can find ways to be effective enough to help his team. Again, I’m going to keep rooting for him to do well so long as he’s in the uniform. That’s how I roll. He had some pretty good innings after the glove tossing incident. Speaking of, it’s not something I thought he should have done (of course, I’m incredibly selfish and wouldn’t be giving any Cubs fans any of my shit for nothing), but it happened. And for all the people comparing it to anything Zambrano did, if Zambrano had done it, you’d be totally fine with it. You can look down your nose at everyone else for defending various players you don’t like, but Zambrano could punch a baby and you’d be cool with it because he’s “competitive” and “passionate”. Just admit you’re just as biased as everyone else and climb down from your crosses.

And finally, I come to Carlos Marmol. There were a lot of people in my timeline calling Philly fans classless for cheering Jayson Werth’s and Joakim Noah’s injuries. However, these same people were ROOTING FOR Marmol to be hurt. Really? That’s classy? Yes, Marmol is struggling. He needs work. He’s actually shown some improvement since he was removed from his closer duties and I truly thought he could have gotten Corey Hart out before he injured himself. But to root for him to be hurt makes you no better than a Philly fan. Yeah, I said it and I meant it.

I realize that I’m viewed as nothing more than a mouth-breathing Pollyanna, but I’d rather be that than be spewing vile all over the Internet because a player isn’t up to my standards.

I’m willing to give these pitchers a break that doesn’t involve a limb.

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