The Velcro Wall

Throwing crap just to see what sticks.

Get Buck Showalter on the Phone

Okay, so I have this idea and I can’t decide if it’s stupid or not but I think if someone who knows more than me could work out the details, it could really work.

And we shall call it “BuckyBall.” Because it’s designed to be implemented for the 2014 Baltimore Orioles by their skipper, Buck Showalter. And if it works, I envision other managers using it.

The idea is simple: change the way you approach starting pitching. Instead of throwing a starter out there and hoping he can give you 7 innings, then waiting until he gets into trouble to replace him, plan your rotation (starting and relief) around the starter going 5 innings.

That’s it. Five innings. Let your starter know that’s all you expect, and that if they can do that, their start is a success.

And then, along with tagging whoever the starter is for the game, you also tag the “long reliever” – the guy who will come in to pitch the 6th and 7th. He knows who he is already, he’s mentally prepared, he’s warmed up, he’s ready to go. Then you got your setup guy for the 8th and the closer (or “finisher” depending on the score) for the 9th. You still have leeway for matchups, and you’re still gonna find yourself having to do some juggling in extra inning games. But you’d have to do that anyway.

Why do I think this is a good idea? Let’s look at our starting rotation.

Chris Tillman – Ace. Love him and he’s a worker. He can probably consistently give you 7 innings, so this almost doesn’t apply to him. But how much better might he be late in the season if he’s only pitching 5 maybe 6 innings per start? I mean, if he’s on, he’s on and you can let him go deeper if you want. But don’t plan for it. PLUS, if he’s off or having a bad day or just can’t get his stuff over the plate (without it getting jacked into the next area code), then maybe he can reach down and find whatever he needs to just get himself through 5 innings.

Miguel Gonzalez. I love Miggy too. When he’s on. If he’s having a good day, he can also give you 7 innings, but when he’s struggling with his command or when he’s frustrated, he wears it like an ugly christmas sweater. It’s all over his face and his body language. Once again, I think that if there is a finite number of outs he already knows he’s expected to get – just go 5 – that it would be mentally easier to dig down and figure it out, or at least fake it and get through it.

Bud Norris. He’s fairly young. I think he’s got Tillman-like potential. But I don’t see him go deep into games very often. Sometimes sure, but again, if he plans to go 5 and knows that’s a successful outing and no one expects more than that, he’ll pitch happier.

Ubaldo Jimenez. Good kid – not sure about consistency but he can reach down and throw a ball by you and you wonder what the hell just happened. And by the 4th inning, he’s either had some struggles or he’s about to. He grips the ball too hard when he gets behind and it sorta goes all over the place. Once again – give them a finish line to work towards, one that isn’t judged as “insufficient” and I think it’s mentally easier to dig down and find whatever you gotta find to get through it.

Wei-Yin Chen. I do like this kid a lot – he’s also got great stuff and seems to be a bit more consistent than Gonzalez. At least I trust him a little more (but only a little). Like Gonzalez, when he’s on, he’s on. And like Gonzalez, when he’s not, he wears it. Once again, I think if you give this guy a clear finish line on the start, let him know exactly what’s expected and that he doesn’t have to go further, he can be more mentally able to complete the task as needed.

Then, if you take this same approach with the young guys we bring up (Gausman comes to mind…there are others), and tell them “just get through 5” it’ll make their starts easier and more relaxing (if that’s possible). Consider also that if a starter knows he’s only going 5 innings, and mentally that makes him better able to find whatever it is to throw good pitches, then he’s not seeing the lineup a third time. Hitters won’t get more than one chance to adjust. It might then leave the starter with more options for pitching to good hitters.

The Orioles have some good guys in the bullpen too. Guys like O’Day or Brach or Webb or Hunter who can go a couple innings, mid-game, and do a good job. Maybe there are guys who want to be starters or who have been starters but can’t go deep enough, can find their place here in regular long-relief. But they know they’re gonna get the call that day, and can mentally prepare for getting in and doing what they gotta do.

I know. This is non-standard. And I’m a baseball history fanatic. I like keeping the game the way it’s supposed to be played. But the era of CG starters is over. If a guy goes all 9, then it’s a feat. But to put them out there every night hoping they’ll go nine, expecting they’ll go 7, then having to “fix it” once they’re only going 5 or 6 good innings seems ridiculous.

Bottom line: It looks to me like Buck is trying to get his guys he has to play the game he’s always learned they should play. Instead, maybe Buck should change his game to fit the guys he has.

Image O

 

Cranial vomiting is a lot of work

I’m showered, but it seems that the writing of Episode 3 – A Tale of Two Men is going to require more than that. Maybe some food. Possibly a nap. It will definitely require the death of the fly that keeps buzzing around my head.

Episode 2 is Up

As promised, Episode 2 is up. But I have to note that it’s not the really good juicy stuff. Turns out I’m really fucking verbose and it got kinda long, so the juicy Mansfield stuff is going to have to come in Episode 3. But I plan to get on that immediately…after my shower. 

That’s gonna be a tough write. Oh well. I guess that’s why we’re here.

Enjoy.

Watch this space…

As the 20th anniversary of my college graduation whooshed by earlier this month, I find myself wallowing in memories I haven’t bothered with for a long long time. I think, then, that if I want to sleep again anytime soon, I probably ought to deal with them.

Meaning, my good readers, that it’s time to write How I Got Here, Part 2.

So keep watching this space. And I apologize in advance for anyone and everyone who may be negatively affected by my stories, or rather my recollection of them. But I’ve learned from my friends who are real writers, that if you’re not going to write truth, don’t bother. It’s a waste of time and annoys the pig.

See you on the flip side.

GAH! Shut up. Seriously

Fuck.

Fuckity fuck fuck.

Ya know, I’m not in a bad place right now or anything. Actually I’m generally in a good place these days. But some times, some days, there are thoughts that pass through your head that must make you wanna pull out your fucking eyeballs. But because the crap you’re trying not to see and not to look at is on the INSIDE, that wouldn’t do a damned bit of good.

It’s a pain in the ass I tell you.

Stupid things. Memories. Flashes. Of either insight or erroneous misconduct, future or past. Mostly past I guess.

I’m annoyed by it. Like when you know you have to admit you might have been wrong but you don’t want to admit it because you’re still trying to tell yourself you weren’t. Especially if you know that admitting you might have been wrong won’t change anything. So what the fuck is the point?

I know. This makes no sense and there’s no reading into it because if I had to explain it I couldn’t. I couldn’t even point at a target. There are a lot of them — just streaming by…fast…behind my eyeballs.

Part of me wants to stop and poke at them. But I don’t really have time for that. Maybe I don’t have the stomach for it.

Fuck. I don’t know. Swirl swirl swirl. Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something and I should shut up and listen. I wonder if I remember how. It’s been a long time. Too long probably.

If I Were a Rich Man…

…Well that would just be silly.

We are once again faced with a $300+ million dollar Powerball jackpot. And we are once again faced with all the statistics that people throw around about how unlikely it is that you’ll win, blah blah blah.

So I read this article today about “why we play the lottery” and it goes on and on about the statistics and how it’s about hope (which is true) and how we want to “belong” especially when everyone else is out buying a ticket. But I think the article really misses the point.

The whole lottery thing — it’s not about probability; it’s about possibility. Which to be fair the article touches on briefly in their discussion of “hope” being the motivator. But it doesn’t really get to the core of it.

Sure, the odds of winning are roughly 1:175 million. That statistic is based on the number of possible ball combinations that could come up. I get that. I also get that buying multiple tickets doesn’t increase your chances of winning by any statistically significant amount.

The odds of getting attacked by a shark are significantly better at 1: 11.5 million. And then there’s the ol’ odds of getting struck by lightning at 1:3 million. Or my favorite of the odds cited in the article, the odds of having conjoined twins at 1:200,000 (does anyone else think that’s frighteningly common?).

But here’s what’s actually important…and pay attention because it’s the real reason people buy lottery tickets at all, and the reason MORE people buy tickets when the jackpot is big.

Buying one lottery ticket increases your chances of winning infinitely more than not buying one at all. Someone, at some point, is GOING to win.

It’s not that someone wins every drawing. That’s how the jackpots get so big. But eventually someone is going to win. At 1:175 million odds, someone still eventually wins. And when the jackpot gets really big, you know someone is going to win SOON, so you get in on the action believing that the someone could be you.

The jackpots don’t grow forever. They get as high as $300-some-odd-million and someone wins. That’s probably because more people buy tickets so there are more active numbers floating around out there, and the 1 of the 175,000,000 combinations that could be drawn is one of them. With roughly 200 million people over 18 in the US, and just over half of them playing the lottery at any given time, let’s call it 125 million people playing, and let’s even pretend each of them has a different number. 1:175 million isn’t much. 125 million:175 million is something. Someone. is. Going. to Win.

So since I was really bad at statistics in college, my little liberal-arts-educated brain says…at some point very soon, the winning numbers drawn are going to match the numbers on a ticket and any tickets I have are just as likely as anyone else’s. Statistically speaking…

(I want to point out here, though, that while I will sometimes by two tickets or even three for a big jackpot, that’s the limit. People who shell out $100’s of dollars on stacks of numbers are ridiculous. I KNOW that the second or third ticket don’t statistically do me any good, but it gives me that extra 30 seconds when I check my numbers. It’s stupid, but it’s not making me broke.)

Let’s go back to those comparative statistics for a minute. Because really it’s all about the situation.

Odds of being struck by lightning: 1 in 3 million. And YET, recently at a Pocono racetrack, a spectator was killed and several injured by a lightning strike. Pocono holds 76,000 people – add a few more for those just tailgating (as the strike happened in the parking lot). So if you are attending a NASCAR race, in the summertime, during a thunderstorm, your odds of getting struck by lightning are a damn site higher than 1:3 million. Looks like 1:76,000 at worst.

At the same time, if you are attending a NASCAR race, in the summertime, during a thunderstorm (or not), I’d bet your odds of getting attacked by a shark are virtually zero.

In fact, I’ll bet that there are probably significantly more than 11.5 million people residing in and who never leave the state of Pennsylvania whose chances of getting attacked by a shark are infinitesimal.

And we can turn that around. If I am one of 11.5 million people who plan to go swimming off the coast of Florida during the summer, and I am told that one person WILL be attacked by a shark during that time, I might re-think my plans. Because I am in a situation where I know something WILL happen but the likelihood of it happening to me are the same whether I know about it or not. But since I know about it, I’m going to take those odds into way more consideration.

So I take that situation into consideration when I play the lottery too. Someone IS going to win. And there’s no reason why that someone can’t be me.

Seriously…that’s not right

I’m a little disturbed by the thought process I had just a few minutes ago. I will warn you it starts with a little TMI but fear not, that goes away fast.

So I went to the bathroom and sat to pee. I noticed that there was maybe two squares left on the roll so I grabbed a new roll out of the cabinet next to me. Now, the toilet paper holder we have has space for TWO rolls, one active and one in reserve. Instead of grabbing the reserve, though, I went ahead and grabbed a new one to replace the now empty one.

Muttering in my head to the still-reserve toilet paper roll, I said, “There now, you get a reprieve.”

And that’s when it started.

Do you ever wonder what the thought process of a tree is that ends up being toilet paper? I mean I suppose some toilet paper is made from recycled paper but I’m not sure (a better writer would have looked that up before getting into this). So I suppose that stately tree on the tree-farm somewhere might have gotten to be a paper plate or some kid’s composition paper, or maybe even the printer paper that a Doctorate thesis was printed on, or maybe a new play by an up and coming playwright. Who knows.

But how does something as beautiful and pure and majestic as a tree feel about winding up, at the end of its life, mired in a septic tank after scraping bits of poop off of someone’s ass?

And for god’s sake, what the hell made me wonder about this? I’m never gonna get to sleep tonight.

This Whole Gay “Business”

Ya know, this whole Chick-Fil-A uproar has gotten really screechy and really annoying.

Let’s face it. The guy who owns Chick-Fil-A is welcome to run his business any way he sees fit, and he’s welcome to put his money wherever he feels like it. The problem is that at least some of the organizations he supports are very active in doing everything they can to deny equal rights to a whole segment of our society. This irritates some people.

I am also free to do whatever I want to with my money. I’m perfectly free to patronize or avoid whatever businesses I want in order to see that my money goes or does not go to a cause I feel strongly about.

After all, that’s the only true American philosophy: Money Talks.

You can spout all you want about freedom of speech or equal rights or whatever highfalutin ideals you want to espouse, but it all comes down to the almighty dollar. Sad, but true. So eat their nasty soggy chicken if you want (that’s an editorial on the chicken and has nothing to do with the owner’s morals or beliefs). Don’t eat it if you don’t want. That’s your choice.

But purchasing or not purchasing one business’ wares over another isn’t ever going to stop the wailing and gnashing of teeth. There is only one thing that will stop the screaming:

Get the state out of the marriage business altogether.

Now, I’m certainly not the first person to say that, and I won’t be the last, and I suspect it’ll happen eventually. But honestly, sooner would be great so that people can stop bitching about what this owner or that CEO does with their money.

Let’s say that the ultimate goal is the same rules for everyone. Know what that means? That means Civil Unions for everyone. Not marriage, not “partnerships”, Civil Unions. As it is, I have to apply to the state for  marriage license. That doesn’t mean I actually GET married, does it? Nope. I have to actually go through the legal ceremony, and then the officiant signs and files the completed certificate with the state. And does it make a difference WHO performs the legal ceremony? Nope. As long as they are recognized as licensed to do so, it’s all good. Priest, Justice of the Peace, ship captain, guy who runs the tattoo parlor, makes no difference.

If you WANT or personally NEED to be married in front of god and friends and neighbors and family and your pet chihuahua, then please, by all means, go ahead and have your wedding in a church, with an ordained minister, prayers, sermon, Hallelujah Chorus, whatever you want. But make sure you file the paperwork for your civil union.

And if you want to get married in an apple orchard with your high-school-chum-turned-hippie-minister, then go right ahead. But file the paperwork for your civil union.

And if you are a homosexual couple who wants to get married in a church, because you happen to be people of faith who think that’s the right thing to do, then find yourself a church that will perform it. But do NOT bitch at or about churches who refuse to do so. They are private religious organizations who get to make the rules about what they will and will not allow their employees to do, and what they will and will not allow to happen in their buildings. That’s their right. It’s also their right to choose to perform same-sex civil union ceremonies (shit, they can even call them marriages if they want!), and the uptight straight-folk don’t get to bitch about that either.

The state should allow civil unions that legally bind any one human to any other, as long as it doesn’t break other existing rules of consanguination.

And those civil unions NEED to be as fully legally binding as current “marriages” are. Because there’s a big difference between being in a “committed relationship” with someone and being “married” to them. Sure, it’s just a piece of paper, but there’s a lot of  that goes with that piece of paper,  knowing you are now responsible for that other person.

You are now “next of kin.” You’re the one the hospital calls when something bad happens, and you’re the one who has to make those hard decisions for treatment. You’re the one who has to clean up whatever financial mess is left behind if they die. You’re the one who has to call home if you’re going to be out late, and vice versa. You’re the one who gets to share in the victories and the failures and taking care of the kids and taking care of the bills and paying the taxes and all the other stuff that goes along with being married.

And you can’t just walk out. You wanna leave the relationship? Get yourself a lawyer. It’s not as easy as “see ya later!” And while maybe it seems like just a bit of paperwork, that shit follows you around forever. You have to prove you’re married or prove you’re divorced over and over again whenever some insurance company or credit card company needs to know who is responsible for paying what.

So I guess I don’t really understand what “Defense of Marriage” really is. You can still be married if you want to. You can still see that your god recognizes your relationship. But god and the state are entirely different, and what really matters when it comes to the paperwork is whether the state recognizes your relationship. CIGNA isn’t calling “God” to find out if my husband and I are actually married. They’re asking me for ALL the paperwork that proves it. Paperwork that I got from the COURTHOUSE not from my CHURCH.

So I think I’m going to stop being a “Supporter of Gay Marriage”. That’s not gonna get me anywhere. People wanna define marriage as “the union before god of a man and a woman.” Fabulous. As a student of language, I know that getting a definition to change is nearly impossible. So go ahead, define marriage that way.

I’m going to change my stance and become a “Supporter of Universal Civil Unions (SUCU).”  All legally binding domestic partnerships are Civil Unions, with all the rights, privileges, and responsibilities thereof. Insurance benefits, ability to adopt, the right to make medical decisions, tax filing requirements, whatever. There is no distinction based on WHO the members of the domestic partnership are. Marriage Licenses, as currently distributed by states, shall be changed to be Civil Union Licenses. Officiants are licensed the same way they are now, and they can be called whatever they want. Have your ceremony in a church, in the courthouse, out in the back forty if you want. No one cares.

Just be sure to file the paperwork.

Addendum: I’ve just decided that SUCU is now officially the opposite of DOMA.

NCAA Penalties and Penn State

<sigh>

There’s no good answer to this question.

Less than half an hour away from the announcement of the NCAA sanctions against Penn State in the wake of the Sandusky child-abuse scandal and the subsequent institutional cover-up of the incidents. And what can you say about it?

Commentary from both expert sports analysts and common folk alike seems to lean toward the idea that NCAA punishment both over-reaches the NCAA’s bounds of authority and is unfair to the current students and student athletes. In addition, anyone who is familiar with State College, PA and the Happy Valley economy knows that eliminating the football program for even a year will have long-term and possibly disastrous effects on the businesses in the entire surrounding area.

My brother is a Penn State alumna and did so taking classes part-time and working the rest of the time. He worked at the Rathskeller for a long time and was working there when I got married. This is relevant because I had to plan my wedding around the Penn State football schedule. I knew that if my brother missed a whole weekend of work over a Penn State home football weekend, that would mean the loss of a large percentage of his yearly income and I didn’t want to do that to him.

Think. Think back to when you were in college — especially if you worked your way through college like my siblings and I did. Think about eating Ramen noodles and generic macaroni and cheese every night. Think about how you lived paycheck to paycheck, knowing that any loss in income would mean the difference between eating and paying the rent.

Now consider the people who make their living serving visiting students, friends and parents of football players, local fans. Think of the college students who are working while they go to classes, trying to get by and get a degree so they never have to work the midnight shift in the Sheetz or the Dunkin’ Donuts again.

If the NCAA imposes the “death penalty” (which I hear is unlikely) or other sanction that significantly cripples the Penn State football program, THOSE are the people who suffer.

Consider also the other athletic programs at Penn State who benefit from the money that the football program brings in. The Field Hockey team. The Volleyball team. The Lacrosse team. And those students who have scholarships or who otherwise benefit from those programs.

All of those current students, current residents, current faculty, current community members are going to be punished by the “Full Institutional Control” executed by Penn State in the process of covering up what was certainly to be an embarrassing situation. No matter that it was criminal.

All the talk has been about how the “culture” of college football needs to change. And I agree. The culture of “big money” college sports needs to change, not just football. Lots of universities live and die by one or more sports programs — it’s how and why people know them. Duke or Kansas = Basketball. Alabama or USC = Football. But there’s Baseball, and Volleyball, and Lacrosse…all kinds of programs that “rule the roost” of their little segments of universities and bring in lots of money. So coverups and “smooth overs” happen all the time for athletes in these programs, and we never hear about it.

So you know what? If the NCAA really wants to help change the culture of big sports, how about they impose this:

How about every university overseen by the NCAA in any sport MUST adopt a zero-tolerance policy with respect to its student athletes.

What I means is, any student athlete receiving any scholarship money whatsoever, LOSES their scholarship if they are convicted or plead guilty to any crime above the level of misdemeanor. (Please Note: I’m sure there are levels of “misdemeanor” and this mandate could be made very specific to those levels. I say that because in some states, Rape was a misdemeanor…and may still be in some places.) I’m talking about any crime that is violent in nature or involves a weapon, legal or otherwise. I’m talking about being convicted of DUI. I’m talking about possession with intent to distribute illegal drugs. I’m talking about either participating in or observing without taking action ANY sexual assault. Or drunken assault in an alley behind a bar (yeah, I’m lookin’ at YOU Jordan Jefferson of LSU).

I’m saying that all student athletes MUST REMAIN CLEAN if they are to continue receiving money. No exceptions. If you can’t do that, then you don’t deserve to have any of your college degree paid for by someone else.

If that’s not enough and the student is able to remain in school and even remain on the athletic team, if there is a second incident, they are suspended from the team, either for the season or permanently.

Now I know what you’re saying — it wasn’t the students who perpetrated this crime. That’s true. But an institution’s leadership covering up crimes and other “problems” perpetrated by their athletes is what helps promote the “above the law” culture that permeates these universities. Once a coach or assistant coach knows they can get around the rules on behalf of their students, the cover-up mentality remains. If a coach can get his athlete out of trouble, he can keep his assistants out of trouble. If the President of a university can keep their highly-paid, highly-respected, highly-successful coaches out of trouble, well then covering up is just a part of the business.

On the other hand, if universities know that there is no leeway when it comes to these students, maybe they’ll start paying attention and start holding people accountable for their actions.

Because isn’t that really what it comes down to? Student athletes, all jacked up on testosterone and alcohol go out and do stupid things because of their inflated sense of entitlement. Remove that entitlement, and make them understand that THEY are responsible for their actions (or inactions — accessory to a crime also counts), maybe they act differently? If Mike McCreary had understood that he was responsible for acting on what he knew, do you think he’d have acted differently? Graham Spanier?

Okay – gotta go. NCAA prez is speaking. I hope the PSU community can survive and move forward soon. Because we are Penn State.

It’s Time

Just left our local Gold’s Gym where I am now stuck in a year-long membership.

Scratch that.  Let’s try this: I just left Gold’s Gym where I have signed up to finally take control of this ridiculousness that is my aging body.

Everyone likes the latter statement but Thinky-Brain keeps focusing on the former.

But during the conversation in the car between myself and Thinky-Brain while driving home, this occurred to me: I have either just signed up for a gym membership that I will use to improve my health and feel better about myself, or I have just signed up for a complete and utter waste of money.

The trick to that is, that I am in COMPLETE control as to which of those statements is true.

And I figured out that once I wrangle THAT fact to the ground, that I am in control as to whether it’s a waste of money or not, thus determining whether I’m happy about the move or not.

I like food. I didn’t get fat because I don’t like food. And I’m not going to stop eating food. I’m certainly not going to stop eating food I like. I try to make reasonably good choices, but sometimes I don’t and really I think that’s okay. Thinky-Brain really does a good job of justifying all the crap I cram into my piehole. I try to make it shut the fuck up, but that’s really hard. I like my rewards for all the shit I do.

So if I’m not going to stop eating, I’d better damned well fix the other side of that balance sheet.

I’ve been months…years…putting excuses in my way for not exercising, and never “finding the time” to exercise. And to show for it, I am now a 42 year old woman who is 50 lbs overweight.

I found some pictures a while back, of me at 17. Here’s one. Unretouched baby.

Way back when…

Holy shit. Just look at those LEGS! Ignore the hair – it was 1987. Everyone looked like that.

Seriously though, if I knew then what I know now…well…let’s just say it’s good I didn’t. But I look at that picture and I can’t for the life of me figure out why I had self-esteem issues.

Now I know that I’m never getting THAT body back. I don’t even delude myself about such things. That’s the body of a girl who smoked a pack of cigarettes a day, drank a gallon of whatever Turkey Hill called “Ice Tea” and had dance classes 5 days a week. That girl is gone forever (as is the spiral perm).

But that’s okay – I don’t need that girl back. All I want are her legs. Or something a damned site closer to them than the ham hocks I’m lugging around now. Right now, all I want is 10%. I want to lose 10% of my current weight. I’m okay if it stops there for a while while my body resets it set-point. 10% is good — not final overall goal, but good. And all of my pants would fit, and for many of them, I’d need a belt. Hallelujah!!

And I consciously know that I’m probably not going to see the inside of the gym the 5 days a week I am aiming for. I’ll still try. But if I get there two days, or three days, or shit, even one day in a week, that’s more than I’m doing now.  And I have to keep telling myself that it doesn’t have to be for an hour and a half. If all I do is devote 20-30 minutes to run the weight circuit, that’s something. And even if I drag myself through 30 minutes on the treadmill dreaming of the hot dog I’m gonna shove into my face when I get home, so be it. The muscles got used and they got stretched and they got woke up. I also know myself well enough to know that if I can “suffer” through 20 minutes on a treadmill, my endorphins kick in and I’ll stay on for at least another 20. But at the end of the day, even if my calorie in/calorie out balance isn’t the best, I still did something. The calorie balance is off anyhow — the least I could do is have something to show for it or to feel good about.

The most recent set of excuses I’ve used for NOT doing this before is that money is tight these days and I really have to do better at working more hours when I can. But I’ve discovered that I get exactly jack shit done after 2pm on most days. And hey look! I can somehow manage to justify a nap on a lot of those days.  So I figure that I’m not working then anyway, and if I can get Thinky-Brain to shut up about the nap and drag my nappy ass down the road five minutes to just do SOMETHING in the gym, well then maybe I can actually make it into something like a habit.

One kid starts camp next week and he has to be there by 8am. Which means I have to be up and getting his sleepy ass out of bed by 7:15 at the latest. I typically wake up around 6 or so, without an alarm, and more often than not think about getting up but end up rolling over and going back to sleep until the alarm. But if I can just GET out of bed at that point and get started on my day, I can get plenty of work in between then and the 1:30/2pm lull that usually signals the end of my usefulness (workwise). Including getting both kids up and out the door.

Figure it’s summertime and showering early is a waste of time for me anyway. I sweat like crazy just running around with the kids in the morning and walking the dog, so I usually put it off. If I put it off, then adding the shower after the workout doesn’t lose me anything. More work time devoted; showering done when I usually don’t work anyway. Hitting the gym at say 2 in the afternoon leaves me plenty of time for a long weight and treadmill session, with shower and maybe sauna, then go get kids from camp/daycare. Or do a shorter session, come home and put together dinner first. But I’m not “losing” work time because I don’t do much work then anyway.

(See this is where Thinky-Brain is useful — it helps me plan — but beyond that, it’s just a self-destructive bad-habit justification machine that I don’t want anymore.)

Anyway, that’s the plan. I refuse to buy bigger pants. I refuse to be embarrassed by how I look in pictures. I refuse to stop eating the foods I like to eat. But now, I refuse to be the person responsible for the membership being a complete waste of money.

I would like it if my attitude and personality actually fit the shell they reside in. And it’s time to make that happen.