Impending Victory?

I'm sure you've noticed that I haven't commented on the NCAA tournament so far this year.  I had a "Bucknell is Awesome" post all ready to go but, after they fell to Butler in the first round, I had to shelve that.  I really had high hopes for the Bison this March, picking them to make it to the Sweet Sixteen.  Oh, well.

As usual, we've got a family pool under way.  Through the first three rounds, I've been bringing up the rear.  So much for my sports expertise, I thought.  That all changed last night, though, with Michigan's overtime win, Louisville's dominance, and Duke's victory.  Yes, it pains me to admit it, but I did pick Duke to get to the Elite Eight.  You know that I'll do anything to win.

The result of all this is that I'm now sitting here tied for first with Hannah.  But, I've got Louisville winning the whole thing while she's got Gonzaga taking down the nets.  So, I'm feeling pretty good.  First prize (I think) means that I get to pick the restaurant for a family dinner.  I'm thinking Korean food.  It's time to give something new a try.

The sad thing is that, even if I win, I'll walk away this year with an empty feeling.  College basketball just won't be the same next year without Syracuse in the Big East.  The only saving grace related to that move is that Maryland is exiting the ACC just as Syracuse joins.  Thank goodness.  I don't think I could have put up with an annual match-up with the Terps.   

The Final Judgment

One of Jay's frequent critiques of me is that I'm too judgmental about people.  Whenever he says that to me, I always think to myself that it's awfully judgmental of him to even tell me that.

Of course, I don't say that to him. That's because he's right.  I am too judgmental.  It's just how I go through life.  I form quick opinions of people.  I look at you, assess your clothes, your hair, your height and weight, the people you're with, and immediately jump to a conclusion.  Notice that I haven't said anything about talking to you before I form that opinion.  God forbit I do that.  That would actually take some effort on my part and I don't have time for that.

I'm never more aware of this then when I'm flying.  Let me give you three examples from today.

• It started in the security line on my outbound flight.  The guy in front of me couldn't decide whether he needed to keep his boarding pass with him while he went through the TSA scanner.  First, he had it in his hand.  Then, he put it in his bag, only to take it out once more.  He headed over the scanner only to stop once more, turn around, and frantically grab his bag just before it went through the conveyor bag x-ray.  He pulled his bag back out, grabbed his boarding pass, and -- finally -- went through the scanner.  "Indecisive time-waster," I told myself.
• On the return flight, I had another security line experience.  There was a large multi-generational family in front of me.  When they got to the checkpoint where you're asked for your boarding pass and your photo ID, several of the family members presented them.  The rest of the family members, it turns out, were just in the security line hanging out with them.  So, there I was, ready to present my boarding pass and photo ID but I couldn't move.  I had to wait while the family in front of me (all thirteen of them -- I counted) kissed, hugged, and said their good-bye's, one by one.  It was like the Walton's.  "Good Lord, they're inconsiderate," I told myself as I stood there waiting.
• When I got to the gate, I had just enough time to survey the crowd and see who would be flying back to Baltimore with me.  Only one person really stood out.  It was the businesswoman on her cell phone.  She wasn't talking too loudly, I'll give her that.  But, wasn't she a little too old to be wearing a skirt that short?

On the flight, I finished my work with about 15 minutes left in the air.  Unfortunately, I didn't have anything to read.  Bummer.  So, I had no other alternative than to eavesdrop on the two women seated in the row across from me.  God would forgive me for that.

These two women seemed like good friends.  They seemed to be having a very nice time together.  They'd been talking and laughing together throughout the flight.  But, they'd been doing so pretty quietly so I really had to strain to hear what they were saying.  Imagine my surprise when I learned that they were strangers who'd never met before the flight.  One lived in Baltimore and the other lived in DC.  At the end of the flight, as we taxied to the gate, they exchanged cell phone numbers and e-mail addresses and made a date for dinner.

"Sure they will," I thought to myself smugly.  "They'll never actually get together."  Then I caught myself.  Why did I need to tell myself that?  What good did it do me?  I think I need to figure that one out.  I owe it to Jay.

The End of an Era

The economic downturn is officially over.  You know how I know?  The vacant house on our street is vacant no more.

The house I'm talking about hasn't been occupied for a long time.  In fact, it's been empty since well before the Great Recession.  I'm guessing it was 2006 when the owners moved out.  It seemed odd at the time since home prices were still rising.  I don't even think I knew what a "foreclosure" was back then.

In any event, we had an empty house on the street.  I became just a little bit obsessed with it.  You see, I'm the annoying guy in the neighborhood who notices when you've got a crooked shutter, your foundation planting is infested with weeds, or your front light is burned out.  Just do me a favor and don't point out that I've currently got a dead tree in my front yard -- I know that already.

Soon enough, the vacant house became quite the attraction for me.  At one point, it had window screens lying on the front lawn, Virginia creeper climbing up the garage door, and its house number hanging at a 45-degree angle.  During a late night of neighborhood carousing, we also found out that the basement door was open.  Of course, we had to take a tour.  We traipsed through the house, admiring the stained carpets and mildew.  We excitedly decided that we needed to convince the HOA to buy it and turn it into a neighborhood clubhouse.  But, like many of our bright (read, drunken) ideas, that one never took shape.

So, there the house sat, empty and alone.  A couple more years went by since our impromptu tour.  I never went back inside.  But, the house seemed to come up in conversation around the dinner table every few months.  It gave me something to pick at and I always seem to need to have that.

Then, all of a sudden, there was activity this week.  First, there were cars in the driveway on Monday when I came home from work.  On Tuesday, there was a work truck with some sort of hose contraption affixed to it sucking something out of the house (I don't want to know what it was).  On Wednesday morning, there were all sorts of lights on when I ran past it at 5:30AM.  And, last night, there it was -- a moving truck.  Our neighborhood was finally back to being fully occupied.

I guess it's nice to finally be rid of our vacant house.  But, I have to admit that part of me is going to miss it.

Things to Think About While Mulching

I decided to get a one-week head start on the mulch this year.  Usually, I wait til the opening weekend of the NCAA tournament.  But, I had a feeling this year that I'd lost a step and that this was going to be a two-weekend job.  That's why I found myself outside at 7:30AM this morning, staring at 30 yards of dyed black mulch.

When you're all alone with nothing but a wheelbarrow, a pitchfork, and an iron rake for ten hours, you have a lot of time to think:

• I am fully prepared for my meeting on Monday afternoon.  I've run through the darn opening at least ten times.  That's probably too many, to be truthful.  I should have had mulch delivered to the homes of all my team members so that they could be equally prepared.
• I finally figured out what I should have said to the guy who followed me into the MARC parking lot in Jessup back in the early 1990's to complain that I'd cut him off on Route 32.  Yes, it took me about 20 years, but I'm now ready, should I ever see him again.
• I'm really not that great at landscaping.  As proof, here's a list of all the things I've planted out front that just didn't work.  Winterberry, dogwoods, Russian sage, miniature yews, cherry laurels.  The list is entirely too long.  And, with all those things now dead, that just means even more mulching.
• Kim's right -- I really should have all the remaining scrap pines in the front yard cut down.  Every year, another one seems to die.  I guess I could just wait for them to fall, one at a time.
• Wally really is no fun.  Poor Ginger tries desperately to get him to run around with her but all he'll do is sit stoically and stare into the distance, waiting for Kim to return.  He's pathetic.

By the way, it's true -- I have lost a step.  One hour in, my back hurt.  Two hours in, I needed a snack.  By hour four, I was wondering if I'd ever give in and pay someone else to do my mulching.  That's when I'll know I've finally arrived.  

Politics

At 3:45PM today, we were doing some last minute prep before meeting with the Lieutenant Governor.  It dawned on me that I didn't know what to call him.  So, I asked our lobbyist.  Here's that exchange:

• Me: "What do we call him?"
• Lobbyist: "Call him Governor."
• Me: "Really?"
• Lobbyist: "Yes, really.  Unless the real Governor is in the room.  Then, you call him Lieutenant Governor."

I'm not making this up.  This conversation actually happened.  And, sure enough, when I met him, I did what I was told and called him "Governor."  So did everyone else in the room, including his staff.

That got me thinking.  Had I been given bogus information?  I needed to know.  So, I just went to Google and typed in "What do you call the Lieutenant Governor?"  Thankfully, there's a website with an answer to that question.  According to The Protocol School of Washington's 'Honor & Respect: The Official Guide to Names, Titles, and Forms of Address,' you are not supposed to address the Lieutenant Governor as Governor.  The reason is pretty simple -- there is only one Governor.

Now that the meeting is over, this all seems so obvious.  Of course there is only one Governor.  This whole thing about referring to the Lieutenant Governor as "Governor" is a scam.  I feel dirty.  That's politics, I guess.

Notes From a Snowstorm

Here's what I learned today during the big "snowstorm" of 2013:

• Never trust www.weather.com.  Kim's been telling me that for years.  Now, I believe her.
• WBAL meteorologist Ava Marie is married!  Who knew?  Perhaps she's mentioned that before but, if so, I hadn't picked up on it.  I thought she was just a young, always-smiling, ready-for-anything, small city, single weather girl.  Now, I realize she's a young, always-smiling, ready-for-anything, small city, married weather girl.  Things will never be the same.
• If Wally poops outside in the morning and then it snows just enough to cover his poop, he'll still find it when he goes back outside in the late afternoon.  Trust me on that.
• God really does love me.  When I went to bed last night, the forecast was for 6-12 inches of snow starting in the early morning hours and lasting all through the day.  Sure enough, when I woke up at 3 AM this morning and looked outside, it was already snowing.  I lay there dejectedly, thinking about how I was going to be out there shoveling at some point this evening.  Worst of all, I was going to have to watch that snow come down all day.  But, nope.  The storm didn't amount to anything and my shovel is still where it's been all winter -- hanging on the garage wall.  That's just where I like it.

Wasting the Day Away

Every once in a while, I have a day where I've got absolutely no motivation.  Today was one of those days.  I did do the kids' taxes.  But, seriously -- using TurboTax to complete a couple Form 1040EZ's doesn't really qualify as an intellectual challenge.  Other than that, I've spent most of my day channel surfing.  I found a couple winners (Arsenal - Tottenham and Joan Rivers' annual Oscar's fashion commentary were well worth my time) but quite a few clunkers (TRON: Legacy, The Honda Classic, and Restaurant: Impossible), as well.

That got me thinking.  Why do I have days like these where nothing holds my attention and I can't get motivated to do anything productive?  I'd like to think it's my mind's way of telling me that it's overworked and needs a break.  But, I don't think that's it.

Instead, I think it's just laziness.  I could have gone outside and trimmed the spirea and bayberries.  Too cold.  I could have read a book.  There are at least a half-dozen sitting on the bookshelves in the study that I've acquired in the past few years, telling myself that I'd  read them.  Too intimidating.  I could have taken another shot at re-painting the water spot on the kitchen ceiling.  God knows I've looked at it enough times today.  Too much effort required.  

Nope, I'm not doing anything.  I'm going to sit here in my recliner and continue to do nothing.  Right now, I'm really liking this laziness thing.  It just feels too good.

To Storm or Not to Storm

On Wednesday, Penn State beat Michigan 84-78.  It wasn't the greatest basketball game ever played but it was significant in that Penn State came into the game riding a 14-game winless streak while Michigan was ranked #4 in the country.  So, when Penn State pulled off the upset (coming from 15 points down in the last 10 minutes), the meager crowd at the Bryce Jordan Center celebrated by storming the court at the final buzzer.

Storming the court to celebrate a big victory is a time-honored college basketball tradition.  It's been going on for as long as I can remember.  Usually, the only reason anyone talks about storming the court is to debate when it's "acceptable" to do it.  There are a couple of basic rules upon which most sports fans can agree.  Here are five of them:

• If you're ranked outside the top 10 and you just beat the number one team in the nation, you're allowed to storm the court.
• If you're ranked outside the top 5 and you beat a top 5 team on a buzzer beater, you can storm the court.
• If your team plays for a mid-major conference and you upset a perennial power from one of the big name conferences, you can storm the court (although, given the economics of collegiate sports, you'll probably be playing this game on the road and might find yourself storming the court all on your own).
• If your team plays for a mid-major conference and you just won your conference championship to advance to the NCAA tournament, you can storm the court.
• And, finally, there's the cardinal rule about when you're not allowed to storm the court.  That rule applies if your school has won the national championship more than once.  In that case, you're never allowed to storm the court.

This all brings us to Duke and their long-time coach Mike Krzyzewski.  Last night, after seeing his Blue Devils lose on the road for the fourth time this season, he got to experience the court-storming sensation for a fourth time.  He was not a happy camper.  At his post-game press conference, Coach K went on a little diatribe (without raising his voice, of course) about how all this court storming has gotten out of control.  He claims to be concerned about his safety and that of his players.

Now, I am not a Duke fan.  The best explanation I can give you for why I don't like Duke basketball is that I'm jealous.  Yep.  Jealous.  I freely admit that I struggle with other people who are better looking, or more successful, or more well-liked than me.  Sometimes, I can get past all that.  But not with Duke's basketball teams.  You see, Duke's basketball teams generally meet all three of those criteria.  So, when I heard Coach K complaining on Sportscenter this morning about how unfair and scary it was that his poor little Dukies were getting swallowed up in the crowd at U-VA last night, I didn't feel badly for him at all.  In fact, I kind of enjoyed it.