"GO, JOE!"
She sat on the uncomfortable bleachers, which were rickety and hardened with time. Though she was swimming in it, Joe's tiny mom wore the team's t-shirt. "Sunrise Little League All-Stars" was printed in large red letters on the front. She hadn't complained the only size left was an extra large. She'd just smiled with pride.
Normally, Joe's mom was shy; quiet and reserved.
Not today.
Though she'd sat at hundreds of games, today was different. Her son had made the all-star team.
Joe could hear her over the crowd after every play he made; every swing he took.
When he stole second, she was on her feet.
And when he dove into home, safe by a hair, he was pretty sure she lost her voice.
His team lost that day, but Joe found it hard to hang his head as he gazed towards the bleachers.
There stood his 5'2" mother, beaming and tall on her 7 foot step stool of pride.
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Changeup, Chapter 16
Joe studied the list.
The number of names surprised him. He knew a baseball team was more than the starting nine, but he hadn't thought the number of people who now worked for him would be this high.
Ticket takers. Parking attendants. Cleanup crew.
Human resources. Physical trainers. Stats analysts.
Travel agents. Media relations. Sales and marketing.
He looked up from the list, sat back in his chair and sighed. He glanced at the man sitting across the desk from him.
"And where do you fit into all this, Mr. Finnigan?"
Nathan Finnigan was a tall man. He wore a tailored suit and his shoes shined. Not a hair out of place on his middle-aged head. Joe imagined he'd fit in better on Wall Street than in Kansas City.
"I make sure it all runs smoothly, Joe."
"So everyone reports to you?"
Mr. Finnigan smiled and waved a hand in Joe's direction.
"Not everyone."
"So what do I need to know, Mr. Finnigan?"
"You need a new shortstop, but you need him cheap and temporary."
"Why?"
"Your current one is out for half the season."
"Injury?"
"Suspension. Used performance enhancing drugs. But the good news is you don't have to pay him while he's suspended, so you have $9 million freed up to find a temporary replacement."
"We pay our shortstop $9 million a year?!?"
"$18...9 is for half the season."
"If he's a cheater, I don't want him. Cut him."
"Can't do that, Joe."
"Why not?"
"Harold Dempsey is still under contract. Cutting him means paying him, big-time. Besides, he's your star player."
"Then what do you suggest? How do you bring in someone good enough to play shortstop, but expect them to do their best knowing they're not going to stick around?"
"Easy. Find a star on his way out, an old-timer. Offer him $3 million for a one season contract. He'll play half the season, and then go on the injured reserve for the second half, but he won't mind because he's collecting for the entire season."
"You can put someone on the injured list if they're not injured?"
"Someone's injured when I say they're injured, Joe."
Joe stared at Mr. Finnigan for a while, absorbing the facts of life. He decided to switch topics for a moment.
"I want to make tickets more affordable for families, Mr. Finnigan."
"Of course, Joe! We have a family night every other month. Tickets for $5 a person."
Joe stared again.
"Cut Dempsey. And general admission tickets are $5 a person. Every game this season."
It was Finnigan's turn to stare, but he quickly recovered.
"I'll need to know who you want me to replace him with. I'll have a list of eligible players to you by the end of the day."
"Don't need a list, Mr. Finnigan."
"Who do you have in mind?"
"Not who, Mr. Finnigan, what. Put out a press release. Open tryouts for starting shortstop start tomorrow."
.
"You need a new shortstop, but you need him cheap and temporary."
"Why?"
"Your current one is out for half the season."
"Injury?"
"Suspension. Used performance enhancing drugs. But the good news is you don't have to pay him while he's suspended, so you have $9 million freed up to find a temporary replacement."
"We pay our shortstop $9 million a year?!?"
"$18...9 is for half the season."
"If he's a cheater, I don't want him. Cut him."
"Can't do that, Joe."
"Why not?"
"Harold Dempsey is still under contract. Cutting him means paying him, big-time. Besides, he's your star player."
"Then what do you suggest? How do you bring in someone good enough to play shortstop, but expect them to do their best knowing they're not going to stick around?"
"Easy. Find a star on his way out, an old-timer. Offer him $3 million for a one season contract. He'll play half the season, and then go on the injured reserve for the second half, but he won't mind because he's collecting for the entire season."
"You can put someone on the injured list if they're not injured?"
"Someone's injured when I say they're injured, Joe."
Joe stared at Mr. Finnigan for a while, absorbing the facts of life. He decided to switch topics for a moment.
"I want to make tickets more affordable for families, Mr. Finnigan."
"Of course, Joe! We have a family night every other month. Tickets for $5 a person."
Joe stared again.
"Cut Dempsey. And general admission tickets are $5 a person. Every game this season."
It was Finnigan's turn to stare, but he quickly recovered.
"I'll need to know who you want me to replace him with. I'll have a list of eligible players to you by the end of the day."
"Don't need a list, Mr. Finnigan."
"Who do you have in mind?"
"Not who, Mr. Finnigan, what. Put out a press release. Open tryouts for starting shortstop start tomorrow."
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Motorcycle Butterfly Stowaways
Scene:
3:30 AM
All household occupants are sleeping peacefully.
Except the smallest, a stowaway named Evan.
A piercing scream pierces the quiet, piercingly.
The groggy male caretaker is instantly on his feet, scrambling to the scene of the crime.
Groggy Male Caretaker: What's the matter, Bubs?
Evan: It HURRRRTS!
Groggy Male Caretaker: What hurts?!?
Evan: I wanna hold it!
Groggy Male Caretaker: Hold what? What's going on?
Evan: The butterfly! Wanna hold the butterfly! Wanna hold it!
Groggy Male Caretaker: Don't we all, Son. Time for bed.
Evan: Nigh-nigh, motorcycle!
Groggy Male Caretaker: Good night, Son.
Groggy Female Caretaker: What was the problem?
Groggy Male Caretaker: Butterflies.
Groggy Female Caretaker: Again?
Groggy Male Caretaker: Can't trust 'em.
Weirdest late night experience - Go!
.
3:30 AM
All household occupants are sleeping peacefully.
Except the smallest, a stowaway named Evan.
A piercing scream pierces the quiet, piercingly.
The groggy male caretaker is instantly on his feet, scrambling to the scene of the crime.
Groggy Male Caretaker: What's the matter, Bubs?
Evan: It HURRRRTS!
Groggy Male Caretaker: What hurts?!?
Evan: I wanna hold it!
Groggy Male Caretaker: Hold what? What's going on?
Evan: The butterfly! Wanna hold the butterfly! Wanna hold it!
Groggy Male Caretaker: Don't we all, Son. Time for bed.
Evan: Nigh-nigh, motorcycle!
Groggy Male Caretaker: Good night, Son.
Groggy Female Caretaker: What was the problem?
Groggy Male Caretaker: Butterflies.
Groggy Female Caretaker: Again?
Groggy Male Caretaker: Can't trust 'em.
Weirdest late night experience - Go!
.
Vegging Tales
The plot to every episode of Thomas the Tank Engine can be resolved by getting rid of Thomas. If I was Sir Topham Hatt, I would sell him for scrap or pay James to nudge him off a cliff.
Super Why! is the most annoying and ridiculous kid's show ever. The theme song has about 4 words and gets stuck in your head all week long until it makes you stabby. Example plot: kid in class is asked what 3 + 2 is. He then ditches class with his friends and goes to their top secret command center, where they don superhero costumes and start researching books for the answer. I turned it off at that point. Seriously...it would have been easier to stay in class, yes?
Evan was watching Little Einsteins on the iPad the other day while I was cleaning. He came running up to me, crying his eyes out.
"SCARY! Rocks are scary!"
Curious, I picked up the iPad to see what was going on. The Little Einsteins were trying to stop an asteroid field from destroying the earth. Yikes!
"That IS scary, Son. Let's watch something else."
Evan selected The Magic School Bus. I started it and headed off to finish cleaning. His wails brought me trotting back. Tears were dripping off his chin. I picked up the iPad and sure enough, they were flying the school bus through an asteroid field, talking about how they could be destroyed any second.
So basically I'm teaching my son to fear an imminent death from space rocks. Go me.
What kids' shows do you love or hate?
.
.
The $287 Bill
The man approached the bank teller with confidence.
He handed him a crisp bill with Lincoln's face on it.
Man: Hi. I'd like to get change for this.
Teller: Will five ones do, or do you need quarters as well?
Man: No, I'd like 14 twenties, and 7 Susan B. Anthonys.
Teller: What? This is a $5.
Man: No, it's a $287 bill.
Teller: There's no such thing!
Man: But there should be!
Teller: And yet there isn't!
Man: *Grabbing a pen* There is now...pass over my Susan B. Anthonys!
Teller: Just because you write "287" on it and cross out the "5" doesn't make it a $287 bill.
Man: Sure looks that way to me! What gives you the right to decide?
Teller: This is a $5 bill. That's what the U.S. Treasury intended it to be. No more, no less. I don't make the rules, Sir. I don't have to like the rules, but I do have to comply.
Man: But I would be a lot happier if this was a $287 bill! Why don't you want me to be happy?
Teller: I'd like for you to be happy, Sir. I just would like for you to be happy with a $5 bill.
Man: You bankers and your rules! If you all would just relax, we could all have our own way and be happier. What do you care if this bill is a $5 bill or a $287 bill? It doesn't affect you. You wouldn't be giving me your own personal money as change; it would be the bank's.
Teller: If everyone made their $5 bills into $287 bills, inflation would make the $287 bill the new $5 bill. We wouldn't accomplish anything but driving prices higher. And I don't know about you, but I don't want things to cost more. I'd have to live in the world you created, which isn't the way things were intended to be. That's how it affects me.
Man: You're so hateful and judgmental!
.
He handed him a crisp bill with Lincoln's face on it.
Man: Hi. I'd like to get change for this.
Teller: Will five ones do, or do you need quarters as well?
Man: No, I'd like 14 twenties, and 7 Susan B. Anthonys.
Teller: What? This is a $5.
Man: No, it's a $287 bill.
Teller: There's no such thing!
Man: But there should be!
Teller: And yet there isn't!
Man: *Grabbing a pen* There is now...pass over my Susan B. Anthonys!
Teller: Just because you write "287" on it and cross out the "5" doesn't make it a $287 bill.
Man: Sure looks that way to me! What gives you the right to decide?
Teller: This is a $5 bill. That's what the U.S. Treasury intended it to be. No more, no less. I don't make the rules, Sir. I don't have to like the rules, but I do have to comply.
Man: But I would be a lot happier if this was a $287 bill! Why don't you want me to be happy?
Teller: I'd like for you to be happy, Sir. I just would like for you to be happy with a $5 bill.
Man: You bankers and your rules! If you all would just relax, we could all have our own way and be happier. What do you care if this bill is a $5 bill or a $287 bill? It doesn't affect you. You wouldn't be giving me your own personal money as change; it would be the bank's.
Teller: If everyone made their $5 bills into $287 bills, inflation would make the $287 bill the new $5 bill. We wouldn't accomplish anything but driving prices higher. And I don't know about you, but I don't want things to cost more. I'd have to live in the world you created, which isn't the way things were intended to be. That's how it affects me.
Man: You're so hateful and judgmental!
.
Superphone Tasty Cologne
When I first found my son standing in our shower, sucking on the cap to my cologne bottle, banging the bottle on the shower door, I was annoyed. Then it occurred to me - what else are you going to do when you're two and Mom and Dad won't turn on the TV for you or let you use the iPad?
I used to call the gym "the Hurting Place". I don't do that anymore since I stopped going when we bought an elliptical machine. Now I walk up to it and say, "Hello, Newman."
Buying the new iPhone will give me superpowers, yes? I seem to remember that's how it works.
We got our refrigerator 9.5 years ago. It has a water dispenser in the door. I have never changed the water filter for this dispenser. I prefer the water from the refrigerator dispenser over our tap water. Either this means the filter is still good, or I prefer water filtered with yuck. Let's go with option 1.
What have you been lax about lately?
.
I used to call the gym "the Hurting Place". I don't do that anymore since I stopped going when we bought an elliptical machine. Now I walk up to it and say, "Hello, Newman."
Buying the new iPhone will give me superpowers, yes? I seem to remember that's how it works.
We got our refrigerator 9.5 years ago. It has a water dispenser in the door. I have never changed the water filter for this dispenser. I prefer the water from the refrigerator dispenser over our tap water. Either this means the filter is still good, or I prefer water filtered with yuck. Let's go with option 1.
What have you been lax about lately?
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