Skunk! Part II

At 11:30 p.m. last Sunday, as I was merrily walking Rangedogs through the brisk but not too chilly neighborhood, I was in pretty high spirits. The day back home had gone very well, with a groundbreaking interview in the morning and an enjoyable family dinner at night. All I had left to do was finish up a couple of articles, and I looked forward to getting a solid night's sleep. On top of all that, I was listening to the newly acquired fun. CD and it's borderline impossible to feel anything but happy while listening to them.

About 50 feet away from returning home, after Ranger had raised his stupid leg about 37 times, this fatty skunk or racoon type animal waddled across the street a little ways down the road. Ranger went ballistic, somehow ripping himself free of not his collar, but the metal carabiner that linked his leash and his collar. This newfound freedom allowed Range to frantically sprint around the neighborhood for about a minute, joyously seeking out his prey, while I tried in vain to get a hold of him.

Finally, Ranger stops by a car and barks a few times. A rotten stench wafts through the air. It was most definitely a skunk. Drained from his jubilant adventure, Rangedogs puts his head down and promptly trots back to our house.

I go home, proclaiming the bad news. We decide to wait for my brother to get home because he knows the concoction. Meanwhile, Ranger somehow got loose from the backyard, and is once again roaming the neighborhood.

By the time we finally find him, get the delightful mix of baking soda, hydrogen peroxide, and water all over Ranger's pungent fur, shampoo and bathe him, it is 2:30. At this point I still have to deal with the slightly mind-boggling fact that my sister had gotten all my whites stained a pale green because she had inexplicably threw some of her own green clothes into my batch of whites (that was already done) and re-started the wash. I also still had to finish my articles, and drive back to Irvine early the next morning.

God has an interesting way of reminding us about things. Patience, unconditional love, not being too comfortable to the point of stagnancy, humbleness...

I can feel the stretch run a-coming

Every year, spring quarter always ends with such a bang. School stuff seemingly goes on the backburner, and all these awesome events like dance practice and trainings and softball take over my daily thoughts. This year, it seems like it's even more pronounced because I have been thrust into a leadership position in many of these roles. Sometimes, I feel this overwhelming burden of not messing up/being an inadequate leader. Other times, I feel a rush of satisfaction of a job well done, or something that went better than expected. Overall, I'm glad I took these opportunities. Definitely some good character building and all that jazz.

These moments are only going to intensify as the year comes to a close. For some reason, the stretch run where Zenyatta bursts to the front of the pack comes to mind. ZEN-YA-TA!!!!

The vegetarian run has been good thus far. I think the first time that I started wanting meat again was last Wednesday. Some meals are a bit pathetic looking. But in any case, I think it is a very good reminder for me in the midst of my busy days to take a breather and look up to God and just honor him. I have a budding sense of encouragement about the goals that I want to see accomplished.

(Side note: I think the style of this post was kind of similar to Fooks' "Week 5" post. I have this slightly disturbing, somewhat uncanny ability to (sometimes unknowingly) imitate writers that I read. Like when I read the entire "Roll my Thunder, Hear my Cry" series in eighth grade, I picked up that Southern reconstruction era style. When we read Frankenstein, it was the depressingly romantic stuff that I started spewing. Reading Bill Simmons usually makes my sports columns a little funnier.
So the question remains: am I merely some kind of chameleon writer who, like we learned in music 3, can perform, but cannot compose?)

Curveball

A common problem for many minor leaguers who may boast the best athletic tools or raw talent is that they can't hit the curveball. Sometimes, they even know the good old breaking ball is coming, and they still can't hit it.

So when that 12 to 6 pitch comes, I hope that I am either able to hit it, or that I realize relatively quickly that I can't, so I can retire gracefully and pursue other things in life.

vegetarian experiment & NBA Love

Inspired by DSzeto, I am undertaking a two month vegetarian experiment (with the exception of fish) from April 24 to June 24. Results to be updated.

In other news, how great that there is so much love for our NBA group the same week that I write a column lambasting the real NBA.

Spring quarters always seem to have an interesting way of coming together.

softball love

*And it's a well-hit ball over the shortstop's head, the left-fielder is racing towards it, andd Shi is there, the ball is bobbled, but he MAKES THE CATCH! AHHHH AND THE CROWD GOES CRAZY! GAME OVER, IT'S A TIE FOLKS. I DON'TTT BELIEVE IT, runners on first and third with no one out and the Sandlot defense absolutely cracks down!*

Another reminder of why I love the game of baseball (and its alternate versions).

self-consciousness

Imagine a world where everyone acted the same regardless if they were in the public or in private. Where everyone wasn't so self-conscious about how people interpreted them or self-conscious about giving the wrong impression.

And I'm not even talking about simple stuff like outgoing-ness and lewdness. What about interactions with each other? Do we change how we act with certain people based on if we are in public or private? Maybe it is a necessary thing. Maybe it isn't even a bad thing. Nonetheless, it would be interesting to live in a world where no one felt hindered in public.

21

Shucks guys. Y'all are too good to me. Not sure if it was planned that way, but the waves of surprise thing was really like four times the fun. I know I said I was giving up sweets for the rest of junior year, but I am going to thoroughly enjoy all these treats.

. . .

In other news. These last three days have been a crazy reminder of many things:
Of sickness and not getting enough sleep
Of a contrarian God and mind-boggling love
Of my important responsibilities, priorities, and being a bit selfless this summer
Of the very real danger and possibility of car crashes

. . .

Baseball is back for my 15th conscious season. Another summer to enjoy my boys. And I am as excited as ever. Thank you Albert Pujols for being the man you are.