Stupid Picture Chronicles #18

I just love this. It is a sign at a railroad crossing in Avon Lake, Ohio. The tracks are on top of a rather steep incline on both sides. In other words, it's on a hill. The sign is "worried" about trucks crossing the tracks and getting stuck ... or worse yet, all busted up ... on top of the tracks. I guess this would leave the wheels dangling on each side of the tracks while locomotive from hades comes bearing down on it. But what I really, REALLY love is the little "ooowie!" arrows on top of the stuck truck. 'Cause, as we all know, trucks are only human, and as such, experience a range of emotions including pain.

Riiiiight.

Beating the Cleveland infidels ... uh ... I mean Indians

What can I say? The sox go 0-2 here in Cleveland to begin the season. I pay attention but, hey, I have a life. They have to be big boys, ya know? Today however, I'm free. Debbie, Scott and I go to "The Prog" for game #3. Final score? Sox 2, Indians 1. I just had to give them "the talk." Hopefully they'll recognize this as the turning point of the season and cut me a full share of their World Series bonuses. That will be thanks enough.

Things I Wish I Had Done First Picture Chronicles #1

Why, why, why can't I figure out how to have this much fun...

The Joe & Elle Show

Many of you don't know my son-in-law, Joe. He plays (tours, records, drives insane amounts of mile) with a band named "The Fundamental Elements." You can catch them on "youtube." And then there is the worlds best granddaughter, Elle. They took this brief video and my daughter, Kelli, posted it on her blog. Well, you may not know them so you just might miss the best father/daughter instrumental in history ... at least when the daughter is only 21 months old. So ... presenting ... "The Joe and Elle Show!"

Playing Ball @ The Prog

It is indeed a new day. It is March 31, 2008, better known around the country as "Opening Day." This is the day when "The Boys of Summer" will don their uniforms, trot onto the field, and as the gladiators of old, do battle with the opposition.

It is also the first time in twenty-five years that I have not worn a Chicago Cubs jersey (or at least t-shirt) on opening day. "Why" you ask? Simple. Nobody in Cleveland gives a rip about the Cubs. To Indian fans the Cubs might as well be some team that plays in Tokyo. They just don't register on any richter scale. Now in St. Louis it was an entirely different story! By flying my Cubs colors I could keep a conversation going all day long. You see ... it's all about causing havoc! It's about mentally tormenting the opposition. No matter that the Cubs consistently fell flat on their faces throughout those years. On opening day ... no body was really sure what was going to happen.

And now I find myself on the outskirts of Cleveland, home of the dreaded (sic) Indians. Over the winter they snatched away the name of their beloved ballpark, "The Jake" (short for Jacob's Field) and replaced it with "Progressive Park" (long for "The Prog.") There is still a lot of moaning going on locally about that. I feel their pain. Wrigley Field is threatening to rename the wonderfully friendly confines something like, "Malox Memorial Stadium," "Pepto Bismol Park," or "Depends Field."

Oh, the pain.

So anyway, here I sits at my desk in the office today all decked out in my "White Sox" jersey. Why? Because the White Sox are the worthy opponents of the Indians on this opening day. They are also the mortal enemy of the home team. I understand that people here in my adopted hometown will not smile upon my decision to wear the black and silver. Rumor has it that I am risking life and limb. Geez, people. It's baseball. Get over it.

You know, I still bleed Cubbie Blue. But I'm forced to scream loud and long for the White Sox this year. It's the only way I can possibly cause trouble around here. I can't picture a season without tormenting the locals. I've been ruined by being away from Chicago for 25 years. My job is to be a missionary for Chicago baseball, reaching out to the heathen masses in the cities worshipping at the altar of pagan teams.

But here is a question that I need answered. My two teams are from Chicago. (I know, you aren't suppose to be able to do that. But I'm doing it. So deal with it.) When I moved away from Chicago, God placed me in the hometown of the baseball team that I despise the most ... the Evil Cardinals. I put up with that for 24 years. And now God moves me again. And He plops me down in the hometown of the nemesis of my second favorite team ... The Indians. Is God trying to tell me something? And if so ... what? I need a bit of help on this one. ONLY Cubs and White Sox fans are invited to reply. The rest of you just sit quietly and behave yourselves.

Scott is flying in on Wednesday. He, Debbie and I will be going to "The Prog" for Thursday's game. It might snow. It might rain. It WILL be cold. The wind WILL blow. The Prog is just a couple of blocks from Lake Erie where the wind always ALWAYS always blows.

Opening day. Man, I miss Harry Caray.