|
2005-04-04 - 5:53 p.m.
IT'S CUBS OPENING DAY! Also known as The Day Baseball Officially Begins Unless You Are A Red Sox Or Yankees Fan, or, Opening Day For The Rest Of The Country. It should really be a national holiday. Baseball is our national pastime, right? So why must we go to work today? A few sad stories: Major League Baseball is being played approximately 6 blocks from my house for cheap (compared to the prices on the north side of town THANK YOU VERY MUCH, TRIBCO BITCHES) at 2pm and I can't go. My two favorite broadcasters will be doing a live remote from my favorite bar (about a baseball's throw from my house) and I won't be able to go. Also, I work an early schedule -- I usually get in around 7:30am and leave around 4pm, but I'll be missing 30 to 45 minutes of the Cubs game even so. And finally, my husband will be missing pretty much the entire first day of baseball due to stupid law school classes. Poor guy -- I would selflessly offer to trade except that I would probably be noticed and identified as Not Him. The moral of this long, sad story? I'll happily trade a different off-day for Opening Day of Baseball. As long as it's not one of those fake government holidays where no one gets mail but I still have to work. Yuck. Also, if you're in Bridgeport and suddenly cannons start going off, don't hit the deck. They're not cannons, they're fireworks and they go off at the beginning of the game, whenever someone hits a home run, and for lengthy periods of time after the game on Fridays and Saturdays. Just a PSA from your friendly neighborhood resident. Give me my damn birth control, beeyotch. I've been a bit ambivalent about being a resident of Illinois. Don't get me wrong, I love Chicago -- more than may be healthy at times. (I nearly made myself sick a few times when I had to drive out to the suburbs every day for my job) But Illinois? I don't have anything against it, but when people ask where I'm from, I either say Chicago or Michigan depending on what time period they mean. Obviously I would say Michigan when people want to know where I grew up, but Chicago is in the limited company of cities that can be named apart from their states. No one says, "I'm from Los Angeles, California." Today, though, I'm extremely proud to be a citizen of Illinois. This press release details an emergency measure instituted by our governor preventing pharmacists from refusing to fill birth control prescriptions based on their own moral objections. Normally, the Libertarian in me would be freaked out by government telling citizens what they can and cannot do. But seriously? If I need my birth control, I need it. And If you can't fill it for me, get a new freaking job. I mean, I'm sorry you spent all those years at pharmacy school (not an easy choice of careers, by any means) for nothing, but if you can't fulfill the responsibilities laid out in your job description you might want to give something else a try. Non-Deadly Cold Medicine I have a problem with cold medicine. I once had to be carried out of my dorm by my husband during a fire drill because I had taken one dose of NyQuil. Totally passed out. Also, whenever I take cold medicine that has pseudoephedrine* in it, my heart beats really fast and I get panicky. Not so good. Though, I mentioned it to my doctor and she didn't seem too worried. I guess I'll believe her... I've had a cold all weekend, and its still lingering. So when I found me some cold medicine at the drug store that looks like it might not spaz out my body, I snapped it up. So now, Coridcidin HBP is my new best friend. Without the pseudoephedrine, it's not as good at de-congesting (shut up. I make up words when I want to), but it made my skin stop hurting, my head stop hurting, I sneezed less, and I'm awake. Not alert (it's not a magical wonder drug!), but awake and not passed out drooling on the carpet! Yay! *A major ingredient in meth. That's why a lot of the cold medicines at your local drugstore (if its anything like the ones in the Chicago area)are most likely under lock and key. People are stealing them and cooking them up to create really nasty, horrible drugs.
And now, for the second half of my baseball ramblings. It's like a little opening day sandwich! With birth control and cold medicine as the meat! (eewww.... sorry. I didn't mean to get that image in your head)
Pacing myself...
Baseball is a sport that cultivates patience. It has flurries of activity that can feel like a heart attack (see NLCS 2003, The) as well as those stadium-rocking sections of the game that make me lose my voice (see Last Second Double Play, The and Walk Off Home Run). But the real beauty of the game is that no matter how exciting the wonderful parts are or how down the depressing parts are, there is always a new beginning. People (*cough* White Sox fans *cough*) often make fun of the Cubs fans' "Wait 'til next year," attitude -- and if the Cubs could win a World Series ring every year for the next 50 I would not say another word about this 97 year championship drought we're currently umm... enjoying -- but this attitude can be drawn out to really embody what is beautiful about baseball. It's not just waiting 'til next year. It's waiting 'til tomorrow. It's pacing yourself so you don't get too up or too down** over the course of 162 games (around 2 1/4 basketball seasons or over 10 football seasons). Hoping even when it looks like the Yankees have already won their 850th (exaggeration...) World Series that your team will be able to sweep the last three games and win your city its first championship in 87 years.*** I say these things as a fairly young baseball fan. My husband's grandfather lived through heartbreaking losses in '45, '69, '84, '98, and '03 -- along with quite a few other, less publicized years that didn't even offer hope. I've only had to deal with the last two (I was too young in '84, though I do remember bits and pieces of the Tigers winning it that year), so maybe my attitude will change over the years. I doubt it though. Because one of the best things about baseball is that little feeling after (and depending on the severity, maybe not for weeks or even months after) the horrible loss that oh wait. Baseball starts again soon. There's a game tomorrow (next week, next year) that hasn't been played yet. Maybe that one will be better. I just have to remind myself to be patient and take it one day at a time! Remind me of that in a few days when I start ranting about the DL. **Something I have major difficulty with. I'll be hopped up on Cub love one month, and then will barely be able to bring myself to turn on the TV the next. I need to be regulated! ***Writing that graciously was rough on me. My general belief in the east coast bias plus my jealousy Boston has escaped whatever was keeping them from winning mean that I can be happy for them, but also miserable whenever I see the celebrations. Hey, Boston -- would you throw a little luck our way? Chicago has a combined 185 years without a World Series winner. And as much as I have to hate the White Sox, it's freaking embarrassing. If that was the sandwich, this must be the french fries? Just a little side dish (seriously. Someone take away this metaphor before I hurt myself) of a CTA story. I was on the Wallace/Racine bus (I'm a pansy and had my laptop, so I was taking the bus about 5 blocks), and an older black man was sitting in the back of the bus singing (fairly loudly), "I'm not bothering nobody, no I don't bother nobody..." I was somewhat amused. He wasn't bothering me, as I love oddities on public transit, but for him to posit that he wasn't bothering anyone seemed a bit of an assumption. Then a few blocks later, a middle-aged white guy with an amazingly furry face (a blond beard that had to be about 8 inches long) got off and, before the doors closed, yelled, "Don't quit your day job!"
previous - next
|