previouslies 2: all the posts fit to print

In 2011 I did this pretty comprehensive "previouslies" post. Here's where that leaves off, including some stuff I probably would have posted about, had I been doing this sort of thing regularly:

• In December 2011 I picked my brother up from O'Hare and flipped my car. That was possibly the first and definitely the last time I will ever leave the house without say goodbye to Jon after an argument.
• In February 2012 I started a new chapter in my career, fully putting the dungeon industry in the rearview (though I didn't know it at the time). My boss micromanaged and bullied, and I was her favorite punching bag. Giving so much while being made to feel incompetent is why I didn't post all that much. 
• In December 2012 Jon and I went on a gun-shooting /wine-tasting (not simultaneously) outing in Michigan with friends. Because I am me, the first weapon I ever fired was an AK-47. I pray I never hold another gun in my life. I didn't like how it felt to have that kind of power in my hands. It was a taste of the paranoid anxiety I would later experience post-partum. 
• In May 2013 I went into labor with my first child. After an immensely stressful several months at work, my water broke in my cubicle, 20 weeks early. The baby's lungs weren't developed enough for her to survive.
• In August 2013 we bought this house. Jon and our dear friend/realtor, Mala, did the legwork to find it. We were so excited to have a garage and a yard, and had big plans (like compost!). Less than a month after we closed, the pipes from the house to the street had to be dug up and replaced. I don't think we ever regained any homeowners' excitement and our yard looked like a construction site for the better part of four years (if you don't count when it was covered in snow). 
• Madelyn moved to Chicago.
• In December 2013 we lost baby #2 at about six weeks. She had a genetic defect (Trisomy 16).
• Jon started working at the same place as I did, but on a different team, in fall 2014. He is a natural, and people noticed.
• Two days before the one-year anniversary of Baby's due date, I delivered a healthy baby girl named Ro. She literally is the light of our lives. Grieving the first two are now complicated because technically we couldn't also have had Ro if they had survived. I had an emergency cerclage stitch put in to prevent labor and was on bed rest (and would have stood on my head for the entire pregnancy if I needed to). Delivering her separated my pelvis. I needed physical therapy and a walker to get around for the next four months, and the only thing I could do for her was nurse, then give her to someone else to be walked, burped, changed, bathed and the rest. Missing that bonding created a tender spot deep in my heart, kept sore by the guilt of feeling jealous and sad when all I should be is grateful. She kicks that very spot each time she pushes me out of the way to run to her father or says NOT YOU, MOMMY. I am happy that they have a great relationship, but I'd be lying if I said being left out doesn't sting.
• Jon's entire family came out for the holidays in 2014. I was thrilled to have both sides together for Ro's first Christmas. It was especially sweet to see her 2-year-old cousin Declan play with her. I wasn't exactly the best hostess, however, what with the walker, pain and trying to wrap my head around being somebody’s mother.
• I came back to work with pretty serious post-partum anxiety and my boss told me there could be a promotion. But they were "pretty sure they wanted to give it to" the woman who joined the team nine days after I gave birth (if you do the math, she was there for about three months and I had been there, slogging away, for three years). If I wanted it, I had to *prove* I deserved it. I was too stupid to see the mind game for what it was and redoubled my efforts. This was a very cruel thing to do to a lactating, sleep-deprived person who could barely walk, and I suffered as much as you can imagine. But I got the promotion. The other person was promoted a few months later.
• We took Ro on her first plane ride to see Jon's family in Southern California in September, 2015. She was 11 months old, met her great-grandmother, said hello to her sister, dipped her feet in the Pacific Ocean and caught her first major-league baseball game. We were there for our anniversary, too. It was a great time.
• My brother got an apartment in Chicago, within walking distance of Wrigley Field. He also *finally* started making some money back on his Cubs season tickets. I got to see them win the NLCS with him in 2015, which was amazing.
• Our "rainbow baby" turned one on Halloween. We celebrated, Oz-style, and everyone dressed up. Jon's mom flew out to see her granddaughter and hand-made her gorgeous Dorothy costume.
• My father's youngest sister, who lived in Mumbai, passed away from aggressive cervical cancer. I couldn't believe that I'd never see her again.
• In May 2016, our neighbors helped us break down our rotting backyard shed. There was a possum skull under it, and evidence that it was using the supports as a teething ring.
• My brother was set up on a date with a lovely Indian girl, who is friends with the wife of his BFF. Sounds good, right? Apparently she reminded him too much of me, which is a dealbreaker.
• HighCon was on tv, skulking around in the background on CNN during a Joe Biden speech. I always knew that guy would be famous. Now he and his dude have a house in the Hamptons that I very much hope we visit one day; it's beautifully appointed.
• My brother gave us a tremendous scare in August 2016 when he was retaining so much fluid in his chest and abdomen that his organs were impaired. He called me from the emergency room and had to be admitted. I believe five pounds of the stuff was drained out of him while he was in the hospital. He changed his diet and is controlling his sodium. But that was hella terrifying.
• My mom, Ro and I walked in the India Day Parade in my hometown on August 14, 2016. It's kind of a big deal because 40+ years ago when my folks settled in this place, there were only a handful brown people, and even fewer Indians. The existing community sure didn't make it easy for them. And now there's a parade!
• I went to my 20th high-school reunion in August. I had tried on about 25 dresses (including selections owned by a friend who goes to galas) but ended up with a $20 navy cotton dress from Target. And it was great. Had we been able to bottle the nervous energy in that country club banquet hall, we could have powered a city. I found out someone I never imagined had been reading this blog for quite some time (I had included the address in the wedding thank-you cards but didn't expect anyone to follow the link. If you're still reading, hi MSE!). I also got two apologies--only one of which I remember in context now (shame on me). Everyone should go to those things. You never know what can happen! Apparently the 10-year is when people hook up, and the 20-year is when people apologize...Perspective, amirite?
• My parents went to Singapore in September 2016 to visit my cousin and attend her daughter's First Communion. I was honored to be asked to make the veil. Jon and I realized that while they help us a lot with Ro, we can actually handle it ok without Nani and Papa. It's just nice to have them around.
• Ro started "preschool" at her in-home daycare. It still felt like a big step; there was a personalized backpack and all.
• Around this time, I sought a therapist's advice (a recommendation from two middle-school friends whom I haven't seen in decades--thank you, social media). She confirmed I exhibit classic signs of high-functioning ADD (and coped much better before kids, when I pulled all-nighters and only had to worry about myself). Many revelations followed. It is still a struggle. I didn't want to take medication because Jon and I were focused on trying for another baby.
• Our workplace had a huge project that had been in the works for years. In September 2016, my husband and I spent the weekend of our fifth anniversary working 10-hour shifts both Saturday and Sunday. We managed to get lucky and spent the money we'd saved for a celebratory weekend away on tickets to see Hamilton in October. It was worth every single cent to see it before the hype got nuts in Chicago. We were legitimately blown away and treasure having had the experience.
• I worked several overnights for the big project go live, including (my one day off in nine days) when I ACCIDENTALLY CAME IN TO WORK AND NO ONE STOPPED ME. This was a breaking point, because I thought I had messed up scheduling care for Ro and fought with my family for no reason. I started applying for other jobs.
• My college girls and I went to the "I Love the '90s" concert. Coolio, Color Me Badd, Tone Loc, SALT-N-PEPA and others. Salt-N-Pepa have still got it. The others made me feel kind of sad. The Allstate Arena parking lot was wall-to-wall minivans (we arrived in an Odyssey) and women were getting sloshed on tall cans of goodness-knows-what spiked fruit drinks. We almost got in a brawl with some broads in front of us who were so busy taking selfies they didn't realize they were spilling their drinks all over us. #goodtimes
• The Cubs won the World Series. I was at the game with my brother when they clinched the NLCS, and walked home through the drunken streets of the city in my David Ross jersey. It was *almost* as good as Grant Park in 2008. My brother was there for the actual win, and let me hear/see the pandemonium via phone (Shocker--I was working late that night while Jon and Ro were at home). I pray that more things in life can make my brother as happy as he was that day.
• I made Ro a pretty convincing Mary Poppins costume for her second birthday. She had a party at the jumping place and will not consider having her party anywhere else.
• I missed my first deadline. Ever. It wasn't for work, but still. A little of piece of me died that day. But you know what? The world kept turning.
• The country elected president number 45. I still feel some kind of way about that.
• My SIL a and our nephew, Declan, came to visit in November 2016. They had a blast playing together and exploring the children's museum. I wish we lived closer.
• PP and her dude bought a house on the South Side of Chicago that Quincy Jones used to live in! They didn't figure that out until more than two years later when they saw a documentary about his life and recognized their street.
• CC moved back to Chicago. I don't get to see her much because she runs content and social media for a publication that awards five-star ratings to hotels and restaurants around the world--and she gets to try those places! She got me a cool insulated water bottle from the Ritz Carlton in Lake Tahoe. It's a cool job, but damn, does that woman hustle. She recently got back from the Maldives.
• After multiple rounds of interviews, I got another job offer (commuting to downtown Chicago every day) and was about to accept. Then I peed on a stick. One thing my current job did let me do was work from home on bedrest. So I had to turn down the offer.
• Jon made Madelyn a "doggie deck" for her puppy, Frankie, who could tell I had a baby in my belly and would snuggle him. Sadly, her life was cut short because of a car accident when I was 22 weeks pregnant and she was about 22 weeks old. 
• I had a "preventative" cerclage put in at 16 weeks because by pregnancy NUMBER FOUR, they finally decided I have a bum cervix and maybe they should sew it up to keep the baby in.
• In April 2017 (Easter weekend), we revealed the baby's gender by having Ro open a series of plastic eggs in varying sizes until the smallest one burst open with blue m&ms and shared the video with the family. After all that we'd been through, we didn't want to make it into "a thing" until we had that healthy baby in our arms.
• I had an emotional Mother's Day.
• My college girls threw me a surprise baby shower, pretending it was pp's birthday party. I was overwhelmed with surprise and gratitude.
• PP took me to see Aladdin on Broadway (in Chicago). She had to escort me around the theater because of my delicate situation, but I'm so glad I went. It was so very good. SO good. I loved it. This was also the first time I used a ride-sharing service (that was weird).
• July 27, 2017 I took Ro to have ice cream with Ri and her two little girls. I dropped Ro off with my mom as she got off from work at the hospital and went for a "routine" appointment to have my cerclage stitch clipped because I was at 36 weeks. Apparently, during the 20 weeks the stitch had been holding my boy in tight, my skin had grown scar tissue all around it. This proved to be incredibly painful unimaginable ways--the MD couldn't get it out in the office, and called for backup. The backup couldn't get it out at the hospital's Labor & Delivery department, and called for backup. And the big boss (who started the practice and whom I followed from my old office because she's so good) busted out this huge, gray metal box with all sorts of Medieval-looking hatchety tools and STILL couldn't get it out. I felt all of that digging around, despite the IV meds. They took me to the OR and finally did it under an epidural. But they cut me up, so they had to cauterize the wound so it didn't get infected. At the end of all that, one of the OBs says "well, we'll know what to do for your next pregnancy." Uhhh...
• Madelyn got a new puppy and named her Olivia. She's more hyper than Frankie was, but is the same breed (Italian Greyhound).
• Again, I went beyond my due date. I was in labor for more than 24 hours and never dilated more than 2 cm, as cervical tissue that is scarred and tough doesn't really want to expand too much. TMI, but my doctor was trying to "break up" the scar tissue, manually, and I felt all of that, too. I just wanted a healthy baby; cervix be damned. But it just wasn't opening, so they rushed me in for a C-section. Apparently, he was practically knocking at the door. Kash was pulled out at 8:33 a.m. August 26, 2017. He is as limitless as the sky.
• I feel like exactly the kind of person I never wanted to be, having written only two posts here about him. I have spent just as much time marveling over his milestones as I did with Ro. But working full time with two small children? It's a wonder any of us are still alive, let alone documenting anything. Let me say that the entire time I was pregnant and rejected by Ro, I would hold my belly and say "please be mine. please be mine." And he does make me feel very appreciated.
• My MIL and Madelyn were watching Ro while I was trying to recover from the surgery and learn how to nurse this kid and make it from day to day in the hospital. Jon ended up having to stay home with Ro, who couldn't bear to be without him. My mom stayed with me in the hospital and would get up and go downstairs to work every day. I was doped up and they'd give me the baby in the middle of the night to feed--one time I caught myself nodding off. What if I had dropped him? Cue the exponential surge in anxiety. Those post-partum days were trying times, y'all.
• Guess what? Even though I didn't push to deliver Kash, the sheer widening of my pelvis to make room for him to grow messed with the ligament holding it together and it separated. Again! Hello, old friends physical therapy and the walker! 
• October 2017: We FINALLY got a handle on our Garbage yard. We got the front and back leveled and re-seeded by professionals.
• Jon turned 40 on Halloween 2017. I had presented him with a baby on his 36th birthday, and just grew him another, so I didn't think I needed to top that. He flew out to LA for a World Series Dodger game the day before his birthday (he saw them win) with one of his BFFs. Unfortunately they didn't win the whole thing, but he was back home in time to celebrate with his birthday twin.
• Ro wanted to dress as a witch for her birthday/Halloween. And she wanted another "jumping party." This time the theme was Sofia the First--the best princess of all, in the collective opinion of Ro, Kash and myself.
• There was a terrible fire in California, and the place where Baby's ashes were laid burned to the ground. I was much more sad than I expected. The cross remained standing, though.
• Ro and Kash met Santa at Kohl's. Ro wouldn't talk to Santa, let alone sit on anyone's lap, but after hemming and hawing, she got within 10 feet and practically whispered that she wanted an Elsa Barbie-like doll. Kash was his jolly self and bestowed smiles upon everyone in the store.
• We traveled to Ohio to spent Christmas with Jon's family at SIL m's house. It was really nice, and the kids did fairly well on the seven-hour drive back and forth. Ro had a blast with her cousin, Declan.
• I interviewed for a higher position at my employer. I did not get it. Jon moved to a different team in our company.
• We had a crazy amount of snow in February 2018. Jon threw Ro into a snowbank almost half as tall as he is. She sunk into the fluffy stuff and screamed with delight.
• My brother had been a bit...lax, shall we say, about checking in on his pacemaker. On Valentine's Day, 2018, he had to have heart surgery to replace it and have the new one attached to his heart. It was discovered that 36 years of stress from irregular bloodflow, 11 open-heart surgeries and living life, his liver has developed cardiac-induced cirrhosis. A week before this, a pipe in the unit above his apartment burst and destroyed his entire place. He moved in with us while his apartment was cobbled back together.
• In March I got pinkeye, then had a severe reaction to the medicine given to me by urgent care. My face swelled to Hitch  proportions, so much that I could hardly see, my eyes were smashed almost shut. I missed Angel07's '70s birthday bash, which sucked because I enjoy disco.  
• I interviewed for another position at my employer. I did not get it, either.
• Ro went to my friend's daughter's unicorn-themed birthday and rode a pony disguised as a unicorn. With all her heart, she believes she met a real unicorn. I'm hoping to let that slide for as long as possible.
• This was the year most of my friends and I turn 40. Several years ago, joking around, we talked about all going to Greece for our fortieth birthdays. The planners that they are, they actually made it happen. The gems that Jon and my mother are, they made it possible so I could go, leaving my 3.5y and 7m children for 14 days. I took off in May 2018. I am so eternally grateful for not having missed that opportunity to bond with my friends and take a severely needed mental break.
• I carried both a manual and electric breastpump through three countries and pumped/dumped everywhere from the beach to the club. I would be damned if my vacation was the end of my ability to produce food for my kid. I was worried Kash would reject me when I came home and steeled myself for the possibility, but he was very happy to see me. As was Ro. Thank goodness.
• Work stress escalated to new heights. There was a lot of drama that I thought would have been resolved while I was out on maternity leave, but in a shocking development, it had been left, festering, at my feet when I returned. I meticulously cleaned up that dumpster fire, then desperately tried to get away from my boss within the company. I finally realized that wow, I *am* competent, and even actually kind of good at this job. Imagine! My "work wife" and I managed to get onto another team, which came with new challenges.
• My brother invited us to Cubs Family Day at Wrigley Field on June 26, 2018. Kash was just learning to crawl, and he managed to army crawl on the actual field. Ro ran the bases but she was more excited about the inflatable jumping contraption. We have photos from the dugout that will last a lifetime.
• My dad *finally* relented and got rid of the hideous, overgrown evergreen trees in front of my childhood home (which had probably been there since 1978). Now the kids look forward to playing on the extra-wide stoop/sidewalk when the weather is warm. They can't play at our house because #mosquitoes.
• My cousin and her family came to visit from Singapore. We took the week to be tourists in our own area (Chicago is the best city in the world) and had so much fun at the Arboretum, Millennium Park, the Museum of Science and Industry, Shedd Aquarium, Brookfield Zoo, IKEA, the waterpark, all kinds of restaurants and playing around at home. I wish our families lived closer.
• Jon arranged for a few friends to do a cool escape room for my birthday as a surprise. Unfortunately we didn't beat it but it was fun. I would love to do another of those. He may have even ordered a bunch of random locks and stuff in the hopes of opening his own escape room...
• Little man turned one in August 2018: It was baseball-themed and I was a mess. I stayed up almost all night painting a comparable refrigerator box as Dodger Stadium with Kash's "stats" on the big screen (I had made a similar painting of the Emerald City for Ro's first birthday). We rented a park pavilion and a lot of the guests arrived before we did, with the food. But I think people still had fun. There were water balloons and so much Cubs-cake frosting all over the baby.
• Ro took gymnastics at the park district. She would not participate. I had to do the moves with her on the floor (sometimes moving her arms and legs for her), and she did not warm up until the last week of the second session, when she was all about it. But she could do all of the tumbling perfectly at home. Apparently those age ranges reference social readiness as well as physical capabilities.
• My old team banded together and ousted my old boss to another area where she would not have any direct reports, kind of like a coup. The person who had filled in for me while I was on maternity leave with Ro was promoted to her position. I can't help but wonder if the boss realized that she backed the horse that would kick her.
• My brother rented out his boss's brand-new bar for my 40th birthday. I curated a '90s hip-hop playlist that was appreciated by a surprising number of people. The paint was barely dry in the bar, but we closed that sucker down. And apparently the bartender was very generous and my friends--many of whom got babysitters for the evening--were not accustomed to drinking that much. We moved to a nearby hotel bar and closed THAT one out as well. I still hear about some of the subsequent hangovers.
• Ro wanted to be Sofia the First for her birthday. I ordered a beautiful costume as soon as it became clear I wasn't going to be able to make anything that year, not even four hours' sleep in a row. Her jumping party theme was Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
• Work really went off the rails. Without belaboring the details, senior leadership hired a consulting firm to basically blow up everything I had designed and implemented for the previous six years...except it wasn't actually broken but working quite efficiently, as we proved time and again. And yet, when we pointed out the flaws in their plans, one of those jerks had the audacity to say "It doesn't matter that you don't want to do this, your CEO signed off on it." Clearly he didn't care about improving the business; they were going to take their money and bounce. Their proposal was for two people (myself and work wife) to essentially move the equivalent of the leaning tower of Pisa from one end of the yard to the other, brick by brick. But it would still be leaning and not improved much at all. We took our concerns up the chain and were told "it's dumb, but we have to do it" and that contracts had been signed. The consultants estimated it could all be completed by two dedicated people within three days. It took these two people more than 500 hours to do it over a three-week period, and I was still fixing it for months afterward . The deadline? October 31. I pushed and pushed and got it extended all the way to November 1. I worked more than 100 hours those weeks. I worked overnight October 30, because I didn't want to miss my baby girl's and husband's birthday. The consultants sat in my cubicle and wouldn't leave because #deadline. I got to the bakery at 7:02pm, begging them to unlock the doors so I could pick up birthday cakes. I missed trick-or-treating. I missed seeing them dressed up. I pretty much missed her entire fourth birthday. The adults didn't even have dinner because they were all waiting for me and it was simply too late. It was too late for too many things. I don't know that Jon will ever forgive me. But by that point I was so brain-dead, I didn't have the mental capacity to realize I should have just gotten up and left. That the expectations were beyond ridiculous. I got my resume out instead.
• Ro started ballet and tap class. She participated! A little. She says she "loves ballet," but I think the real thrill is seeing her dad or my mom or me through the window, watching her.
• Kash became obsessed with any kind of sports. But mostly BASEBALL! And when someone says "Go Cubs!" he loves to yell "NO! I SAID GO DODGERS!" Jon is over the moon. Ro roots for the Cubs. Sports makes people do strange things.
• February 4, 2019. I interviewed outside the company and didn't hear back. I thought they ghosted me. I accepted that I was staying and that staying was probably for the best.
• My brother bought a house eight minutes away from us in May 2019. It is the same raised-ranch layout as our house, short one bathroom and one bedroom. It has a deck AND a patio. And a garden. It's adorable and so much space for him. We are planning on crashing there while we sell our house. I have been taking one ball from the ball pit he gifted my children and leaving it hidden somewhere in his house, every time we come over. Eventually, he will have all of them, squirreled away under his bed, in his pantry, in the liquor cabinet...
• Jon is dedicated to making our home the "smartest" around. I swear, every piece of electronic gear is synced with a smarthome device, or motion detector, or app or camera. It's very helpful with the children, but a hacker could look in on us anytime in nearly any room to see that we are just trying to get through the day like everybody else. And we don't seem to get tired of pizza.
• May 2019. The outside employer called to see if I still wanted the job. I told my current boss what the offer was and she took a day or so before saying they wouldn't counter offer. Message received. I gave my two weeks' notice and shocked everyone who assumed I'd be a lifer. CC and I promised ourselves not to do that back at our first post-grad job in 2004.
• We hired a master gardener (my brother's BFF's wife's mom) to re-landscape our front yard. What a difference! She added hydrangeas, which I carried in my wedding bouquet. Of course, now that we are looking to move, I'm starting to warm up to this house.
• Ro adamantly doesn't want to play any sport but soccer, BECAUSE SOCCER IS HER FAVORITE. Jon turned on the Women's World Cup this summer and watched the U.S. take the title. Ro asked, "what is that on tv? Can I watch Moana instead?"
• Three months before what would have made16 years (on and off) at the organization, I took the leap to the new job. I'm so scared and a bit heartbroken. But not nearly as sad as when almost two weeks at the new gig went by without my talking to another human being out loud (just on instant messenger/email) outside of saying hello to the receptionist at the front door--then found out the old job already replaced me. I pray that I haven't made a mistake.

And here I am: Perched at the edge of a giant bed in a Grandstay Hotel in Wisconsin. Working on a certification for this new job. I'm alone and very lonely. I forced myself to stop in the tiny downtown near my hotel is and had ice cream for dinner sitting on a wrought-iron chair/table and peoplewatching, imagining a simpler time. Then I FaceTimed my family and felt sadder. Kash was reciting I Love You, Through and Through and I Am a Bunny to me because we've read them together so many times. Ro told me about all the fun they had with the sprinklers and the waterballoons at Nani's house and ran off to whatever she was playing. I wished Jon Godspeed and hung up.

I cobbled together what must've happened during the last few years by scrolling through photos on my phone. Now, more than ever, I can feel years--not just hours--whooshing past while I'm standing still, trying to process it all. I had a practical stranger re-create a photo of me taken in 2012 at this same training facility. Side by side, it is plain just how much I've gained in seven years. Weight. Wrinkles. Scars. Gray hair. Sorrows. Joy. Memories. Knowledge. Experience. Wisdom?

Is this what it's like to get old?


For old time's sake, check out this ancient post about parking, back when I didn't use capital letters.

please please please let me get what i want

I spent several innings of Game 7 of the 2016 World Series in a rocking chair, singing iterations of "Finger Family" while also trying to listen to what was happening in baseball on the radio. I had left the Cubs in a good position, but came downstairs during the ninth inning to find Chicago and Cleveland were tied (!) and going to extra innings with a rain delay. It'd be lying if I denied suspecting this drama was orchestrated. I mean, rain delay? They couldn't have scripted it better.

I bought these at the bakery today. Appropriate for the events of today's game.

***

Sometime in the early '80s my brother made it clear that we are a "Chicago Cubs family." He rocked his blue satin Cubs jacket at age six and has never looked back. He also decreed that anyone who actively rooted for the White Sox would be disowned. And with the way he cried at losses or called his physician when his favorite players were injured, we knew he meant it.

Of all the eligible bachelors in the world, I managed to marry one who is just as fanatic about sports as my brother, and staunchly loyal to his teams. Hell, he rooted for the Rams after they left Los Angeles for St. Louis (and is overjoyed they have returned). The fact that he has lived here since 2008 and laughs in the face of anyone who asks him when he'll start cheering for Chicago teams "because he lives here now" only makes me love him more.

The Cubs started getting really good when my kid graced this earth. Just saying.

***

The 2016 Champion Chicago Cubs had been the butt of jokes for so very long. Still, my brother entered the lottery for season tickets and leapt at the chance to buy them when his number came up. He scrounged for the money that first season. And for years and years, he laid down that fat stack of cash, then couldn't even give the tickets away when he lived out of state. He attended when he could. The vendors know his name. He asks his sectionmates about their grandkids and trips to Dublin. My brother was on the Jumbotron during the first World Series game at Wrigley Field since 1945. I know that I'm *technically* his people, but when I go to The Friendly Confines with him, it's clear: Those are his people.

I have always wholeheartedly cheered on this team, every single losing year. But these fans, the ones who take each outcome so very personally, those who've wanted this so very badly, they had this coming. Sixty percent of the crowd at Cleveland's Progressive Field were rooting for Chicago tonight, and apparently most of the 43 seats that each cost more than $10,000 on StubHub were behind the Cubs' dugout. And my brother is losing his mind waving a giant "W" flag somewhere with his best buddies on an El train in the city. He FaceTimed me after they won (poor connection) and sent me this photo.

It wouldn't have been right if he hadn't been there.

***

The day is today, my friends. You long-suffering, true fans? Congratulations.

great hope

Many years ago, my brother (a long-suffering Cubs devotee) called me to say his lottery number was picked to purchase season tickets to the loveable losers. He didn't exactly have the extra thousands in the bank, so I gave him some money. Every single year, he tries to sell some of the seats to offset the rather pricey (in my opinion) cost, but for most games of the season, he couldn't even give the these tickets away. Until this year.

The Cubs are in the playoffs. Tonight they even ousted the hated St. Louis Cardinals. And I was there to see it. My brother could have invited any number of close friends to be his Plus 1, but he asked me, because he "wouldn't even have these tickets if it weren't for" me. Awww. 

It was exciting. I took the opportunity to get myself a Kris Bryant shirt and an Anthony Rizzo one for the baby plus a teeny skull cap that she calls her " 'at." My brother bought me a hot dog and a beer. As far as I was concerned, no matter how the game turned out, I was satisfied. 

Being in the stadium on the night they clinched the quarterfinal was absolutely magical. Madelyn lives a few blocks away and she could hear the crowd. Being in it, you could feel the energy coursing through the stands like a slow, rolling hum. And after that final at-bat, it was as if an earthquake hit Wrigley Field; the place just exploded. 

We hung around for awhile to see the players on the field and met up with my brother's friends at the Draft Kings--formerly Captain Morgan (I can't believe that fantasy football is so lucrative)--Club and walked around a little before getting into a cab. Wrigleyville apparently partied until the birds woke up.

It wasn't to last. The Cubs were eliminated in a sweep by the New York Mets in the next series, but for an evening, maybe even a week, my brother was so incredibly happy and hopeful. I will treasure the experience for always.

Bonus post: Why I will never learn to like baseball

Jon is downstairs screaming his head off at the Dodgers. The other night when they lost, he lost his voice and did not sleep all night. I'm just waiting for the neighbors to call the cops one of these days--they probably think someone is getting beaten here, not just his favorite team on television.

all i can say is that he'd better be just as devoted to me

My fiance doesn't drink. He's never done drugs. He doesn't look for a thrill in gambling. And when we pull up to a red light next to a car in which someone is smoking, we have to roll up the windows because he gets a headache. But everyone has a vice. And Jon's has to do with sports.

This evening we went to a very nice restaurant in Bucktown, a gelateria and a Wrigleyville bar, dressed pretty respectably. I even had on a smidge of makeup. Jon had a full beard. On exactly HALF of his face. For that, I blame the Los Angeles Lakers.

Let's start at the beginning.

I grew up in a pretty typical Indian family. Except for the fact that we all gathered in the family room for football every NFL Sunday even though roughly half of us could not care less about the score. My brother would run around in front of the tv wearing t-shirts he'd marked up with a Sharpie to replicate his favorite players' jerseys, throwing a nerf football to himself and calling the play-by-play in an increasingly higher-pitched voice. When Jim McMahon hurt his shoulder, my brother would suddenly need to have his shoulder wrapped with an Ace Bandage. In fact, one time when he was four he snuck upstairs and called our pediatrician in tears to ask him to fix a quarterback's injuries. When his team was close to playoff elimination, he'd scoot all the way up to the screen, drop to his knees and start praying. His devotion was undying. And to be honest, it was sort of cute. But we're talking every single weekend. A few years later, just in time for the three-peats, he got really into basketball without losing any of his football fervor. And then he added baseball to the mix. At that point I was safely away at college, far from the madness.

And yet somehow, among all the men in the entire United States and abroad, I managed to procure for myself the one that is just as insane as my brother. In September Jon is going to marry me, but he and sports are celebrating their 30-something-th anniversary.

Generally, this is all right by me. I'm happy to sit on the couch with my sports-obsessed loved ones as long as there's something else I can do. Perhaps the reason I have such an affinity for knitting is because that is what my mother did on those neverending Sunday afternoons of timeouts and scrimmages. You're "spending time with them" while they generally just scream at the television; you might as well make some headway on that baby blanket for your friend. Don't get me wrong, I actually like sports (basketball especially). It's just when Major League Baseball season overlaps with National Football League season, which overlaps with National Basketball Association season (please don't let him get into college football or else there goes Saturdays), there is no such thing as an offseason. Sometimes a girl just needs a breather.

Things have been tense around here for the last week. While the Los Angeles Lakers have had their fair share of Championships, they weren't expected to sail right into the final round this year. And that was making my number-one L.A. fan very nervous. So nervous, in fact, that he vowed to the whole world (Okay, just on Facebook) that he was going to shave off the right side of his beard if the Lakers didn't pull out a victory on Friday night.

I'm sure you know what happened. As the yelling and gnashing of teeth grew louder and stronger, I steeled myself for the inevitable grumpy mood that would linger for at least a week, making food not taste as good, television not as funny and smiles nowhere to be seen--and nothing I do will fix it. I posted my own lament on Facebook about how the Lakers essentially ruined my weekend. People think that's an exaggeration, but when one of his teams doesn't perform up to par, there truly is a palpable dampening in the zest for life around these parts. It's kind of a downer.

Suddenly, the buzzing of the electric razor started up in the bathroom. Initially I thought okay, so he will Victor/Victoria the beard, take a picture, post it and then shave the rest. Right? Nope.

But it actually didn't bother me. What, were people going to stare? Don't they already because we're sort of an odd couple? Nothing new there. We went about our evening and the next day. My mom didn't even notice right away. All he had to say was that he'd lost a bet. He didn't mention that it was with himself. We met up with his sister M and her husband in the city, going to three separate places. Nobody said a thing. I didn't even see anyone notice. He wanted to prove that he doesn't go back on his word, so he had a picture of us taken in the restaurant (where we were sitting at one long community table, by the way) and posted it on the Internet for all to see. And I'm there, smiling right next to him. No big deal.

Except now I can't help but feel like it was sort of big. I'll never know for sure, but I wonder if he was gauging my reaction to being out and about with him looking a tiny bit ridiculous. To see if I'd look around sheepishly or make him shave before leaving the house. Sort of a test.

I hope I passed.

this coming from the boy who changes clothes like three times a day

"There's a store in L.A. that sells almost all the Jordans. Even the really old ones."

"Are you serious? Why out there? Why not in Chicago?"

"I guess it's more of an L.A. kind of thing, I don't know. They have other shoes, too."

"You had so many of those ridiculous shoes when you were a kid."

"Yeah, I had the [insert unsure rumination about which Air Jordan models he may have had over the years]. This place has the MJ 3s, but not in my size."

"Wait, didn't those come out in the early nineties?!"

"Uh huh. Some of the ones they have listed have notes like 'the plastic has yellowed.' "

"Wait, so YOU would be willing to wear USED GYM SHOES?!?"

"Cadiz, we're talking about MICHAEL JORDANS. Of course."

"I'm not going to even ask what they cost."

Vrrrrrrrrrrrroooooooooooooooom!

Way back in 2005, I professed on a list of hundred things about myself that I have always wanted to drive a race car at regulation speed. Jon must have been paying attention, because for this past Valentine's Day, I got a certificate to Chicago Indoor Racing, good for lessons and two spins around the track. We redeemed them this weekend with a work friend of mine who purchased the same gift for her fiance's birthday.

Technically, they're very fancy go-karts, but they're low to the ground and go up to 30 mph so it was still totally awesome. Plus it felt much more official wearing jumpsuits and helmets.

This is the starting line. The action shots I got just showed blurs.

I didn't finish nearly as well as I felt I had--something like 9th in the first race on Track 1 and 7th in the second on Track 2 (Jon placed 6th and 4th). Not to make excuses, but general consensus was that the rule-flouting people in our race who had no problem cutting us off and actually hitting people have probably done this before.

I feel like I look like a groupie in this picture. That was not my intention. Maybe next time J will be MY groupie.

Next time we take a spin, I'd like to be in a bigger group of people that we all know. Do I smell bachelor/bachelorette party?

human conductor

Things are getting somewhat settled--albeit VERY SLOWLY--in the new apartment, but one thing that's hard to get used to is that the only channel we can get in here without some serious acrobatics is Fox* (which wouldn't be so bad if my work schedule didn't overlap with So You Think You Can Dance. Don't tell me what's happening; I'm hoping to catch a marathon of the current season soon).

But the World Cup is An Event, so we pulled out the big guns. Jon had made this very fancy antenna when we were in the condo, and as you can see we are able to get ABC. But only if we hold it juuust so.

Excuse the hair. I didn't want to miss anything by trying to fix it after I jumped out of the shower.

I had to hold the antenna at a different place than Jon did (of course we took turns); who knows what conducting a signal with your torso for a few hours does to your body.

What I lacked in jumping up and down, I made up for in yelling. My dad would have been proud, if he weren't busy jumping up and down and yelling in his own living room.**

The neck pain was totally worth seeing Espana win it all. Sorry, Ale, your guys played a hell of a tournament, but after the U.S. and India, I always root for Spain.





*No cable or dish--we're trying to save for a wedding.
**We were worried about missing something if we drove over to my parents' house to see the extra time.

Cadiz and H, you are the last team to arrive. I'm sorry to tell you that you have both been eliminated from the Race

Way back in March, Angel07 celebrated her birthday in style--Amazing Race style. She and her man, Mark, did a fantastic job thinking up challenges and putting together a very fun day for all of us.

You long-term readers know how much I love CBS's The Amazing Race. In fact there has been much talk in the comments over the years about getting teams together and how well we'd all do against one another. H and I were so convinced we'd be a perfect team that we even filmed and submitted an application video a few years ago. However when we watch it now, it's easy to see why we never got a call. Regardless, he's great with directions and I'm an excellent driver (I know everyone says that, but my dad's training and years of weaving through traffic at high speed combined with constantly having to turn around has made me quite effective under pressure).

That gorgeous afternoon--60 degrees in Mid-March!--we got to Mark's house about 30 seconds before the final check-in time. Phew! However one half of the Wonder Twins (dressed in matching green-and-white stripedy shirts and black winter vests) kept us waiting anyway; apparently there are a few exits off the highway with the same name and she had taken the wrong one.

We received a RACE INFO packet containing maps, instructions that explained the CLUES, ROAD BLOCKS (for one team member) and DETOURS (for both team members), and a pen.

The race took place in a suburban area with which H and I had zero familiarity. Other teams knew it well, but we were confident we'd win handily anyway. We rarely miss an episode of the show and know all the pitfalls. This may have worked against us.

Mark gathered us all in his driveway and gave us the first clue which led to the big mailbox in the center of the cul-de-sac. Everybody took off running for that red-and-yellow envelope.

H and I sprinted toward the car, where we got in and opened the clue: "Make your way on FOOT..."

It was a number-to-letter puzzle. Other racers just ran to the park to sit down and figure it out, but H and I were already behind, so we solved it while we ran. Splitting the paper and doing it together was a pretty quick method.


Mark was at the first location, a children's park with picnic tables, a jungle gym and some really confused kids. We whispered the solution in Mark's ear. He gave us our next clue:

All of the envelopes, boxes and clues were clearly marked with TAR colors. These guys were not playing around.

We were the second team to get this 60-piece kids' puzzle. Apparently in our haste, we didn't see the pile of scotch tape dispensers on the other table. Only after we heard other teams using it did we get some, which really helped. But that put us in second-to-last place. On the back of the completed puzzle was the next clue:

We ran back to the car. I am much more out of shape than I thought; H got to the car while I caught my breath and picked me up on our way to Wendy's, where we got our first DETOUR, "Eat it or Play it."

In "Eat it" each team member had to gulp down a small Wendy's Frosty. That was out because H has lactose issues. "Play it" was a simplified game of war, conducted by A07 and the Kind Dentist. We got very lucky and won right away, putting ourselves ahead of several teams who were already there. A07 handed us the next clue:

We took off to the train station. The thing that sucks about scavenger hunts and the like is that the first team to get there wastes a bunch of time determining the exact location while subsequent teams just look for the cars and follow.

No matter, I had Eagle Eye H with me, who found a plastic Easter egg right away.

Luckily ours had keys in it; decoy eggs contained paper clips.

The next clue was in an out-of-the-way-place. Next to the station was the stadium for a local minor-league baseball team. There were several lots, which were pretty much empty, but spot #15 was off to the side. We had learned our lesson about showing other people the way and parked out of sight. There was a yellow-and-red box under a spruce tree that contained the next clue, a ROADBLOCK, and Mark was chilling on a lawn chair behind the tree.

H has definitely seen more American movies than I have, so he did the challenge. But they were tricky questions, such as "Which singer/songwriter composed the music for Princess Bride and Wag the Dog?" another neither of us can remember, and the one H got correct, "Name the actors who played the aliens in Earth Girls Are Easy," even though he hasn't seen the film. Mark gave us the next clue, which ended up being the root of our demise:

"Keep your eyes open for the "light" at the end of the tunnel."

I mentioned that there were several parking lots at the Flyers' stadium, right? Some of them were cordoned off; more specifically the west-end lots were chained off. We headed to the west pell-mell and spent an UNGODLY amount of time driving/walking around lots that happened to be situated near an overpass, under which we could see the sun setting. I guess we overinterpreted the clue and were looking at the outside edge of the lots and near drainage pipes that could have been "tunnels." This took forever because we had to park the car and search on foot.

Unable to find the clue, we drove around again in a panic and almost hit an SUV coming around the corner who probably didn't expect anyone to be there. When we finally stumbled onto the next clue, it was (of course) at the first place we had stopped--and apparently walked right past somehow. A small plastic treasure box sitting at the base of the lightposts in the middle of the parking lot. There were several left, so we knew we were among the first to find it (this clue threw off a bunch of teams). We used the keys from the Easter egg to open it and get the next clue:

We headed back to Mark's house for what would be our final test. We were hot on the heels of the Wonder Twins, who at the last second changed from the left-hand turning lane to the right and took the other direction on the highway back to Mark's place. We continued to the left and went in what was the WRONG direction. This proved to be a big mistake, because traffic was building and we had to go all the way around before nearing the house.

When we did get there, we discovered the Wonder Twins arrived about 15 minutes before us and ultimately took first place. A few other teams had also finished the last challenge--a ROADBLOCK that I would do. However, pp and her boyfriend were still out there, so it wasn't over yet. My task? Match the country with its flag, a challenge often featured on the television program to see if racers could remember where they had been. This proved to be more difficult than I had imagined, especially because the last time I'd looked at an Almanac list of flags was probably in 1998. And there were eight more flags than spaces, some with only slight changes (like two for New Zealand with different-colored stars).

Kind Dentist was holding the answer key and telling us how many we each had wrong. I was hung up on Croatia, Kenya and Egypt. I should have changed them one at a time, strategically. D'Oh! As you can see, I had New Zealand (wrong-colored stars), Poland (the red is on the bottom), Belarus (not even close), England (much different than the U.K. flag) and Croatia (that's actually the Belarus flag) incorrect.

We came in last. It was a humbling moment for H and I, who thought we had this race in the bag. When I asked the Wonder Twin who completed that last challenge, I realized I never had a chance; she had been playing some sort of Facebook flag application game and locked it down in a matter of seconds. Who says Facebook is just a time waster?

Later we heard that two teams bypassed certain challenges altogether and just followed other teams. So technically we came in third to last. But it was a great experience. All that running around, navigating unfamiliar territory, putting our heads and hands together (however four adult hands are too many with a puzzle that small), there were plenty of opportunities to yell, but we kept cool and worked together despite the frustration. Which was comforting. Plus, we were able to redeem ourselves later with a couple rounds of Taboo.

One thing's for sure, though. I will never again look at Amazing Race contestants with disdain. Luck plays a much bigger part than I thought, and it's way more challenging than it looks on tv.

leave the punditry to the indian scholars

The Major League Baseball playoffs were a tense time for me this year. First off, it was NEVER ENDING. Second, I couldn't get away from the superfans, which actually made me care less about what was going on. Third, my boyfriend and my brother are each devoted to teams who were battling it out in the first round of National League playoffs. My daily conversation during those several weeks included far too much baseball talk, and my loyalty was often called into question. It was enough to drive a girl to want to knock herself out with a bat.

But I maintained my ground. FOR THE RECORD: I will always root for Chicago, no matter what. And any children I may create in the future will have plenty of Cubs influence, but they will have the freedom to choose which team they'd like to support.

I thought it'd only be proper to have H post his own thoughts about this past baseball season after my brother had his take. Above all else, I always try my best to be fair. And while I hope that this will be the last sports-jargon fest on Do They Read Obituaries in Hell?, I realize that's probably just wishful thinking.

So here is H's perspective.

*********

The 2008 Philadelphia Phillies are everything that's right with baseball. It's not easy for me to say that, but it's true. What I really wish I could say is that the 2008 Los Angeles Dodgers are everything that's right with baseball, but they didn't win the World Series and that still stings. But the Phillies, and even more so the Tampa Bay Rays, represent the greater good for fans everywhere. Neither of those teams were anywhere near the top of the list of World Series contenders, and yet there they were, competing for the ultimate prize in baseball. And while it pains me greatly, I can recognize the value in this.

This year's World Series should give hope to fans everywhere (not surprisingly, I'm still miffed it wasn't my team). The greatest (and worst) thing you can give a fan is hope. This year showed us that next spring, it doesn't matter what happened this year, it's all up for grabs again and there are no guarantees. All you have to do is make the playoffs and get hot at just the right time.

I was born and raised in Southern California. So when it comes to professional sports, that's where my loyalties lie.* I bleed purple, gold and blue. It never ends either, much to the dismay of Cadiz. When the Lakers were dismissed by the Celtics in the NBA Finals, I drowned my sorrows in many, many Dodger games. It wasn't therapeutic at the time, but then something extraordinary happened: We got Manny. Sure, I've heard the stories about him in Boston, but we gave up surprisingly little in the trade. We finally had a Big Bad that other teams would fear (by the way, did this feel like when the Lakers traded for Gasol? You bet you're a$$ it did, but nothing will ever be as lopsided as that Gasol trade. Nothing.).

Manny did the unthinkable. In two short months, he gave people everywhere a reasonable argument to nominate him for National League MVP while having played little less than a third of the season there. The Dodgers ended up taking the National League West Division title and ended up facing the Chicago Cubs in the first round of the playoffs.

I moved to Chicago right before the baseball season started. I sat through six months of "Go, Cubs Go" and "W" flags flying all over the place. Apparently, you "can't stop TheRiot" and Fukadome is people's "homie." I wore my Dodgers hat every day and thanked every Cubs fan for his or her valuable insight as to how much my team sucked. It didn't help that the Cubs swept the Dodgers during their only visit to Wrigley. (I attended two of those games personally.) I will say this though, Cubs fans at Wrigley were much more civil after a victory than the Cubs fans I've seen at Dodger Stadium after they win there.

But that was prior to the Ramirez trade. Leading up to the first game of the playoffs, I was amazed (especially given their history) at the confidence Cubs fans exuded. More than a few people I ran into had the Cubs locked into the World Series. Worse yet, the sports pundits were saying the same. That's usually the kiss of death as far as I'm concerned. So I issued my own warnings about how the Dodgers' pitching staff is better than they thought and how Manny had really opened up the lineup, but they seemed to fall on deaf ears.

We all know what happened now so I won't recount history, but I'd like to say a few things about what it's like to be a fan of the team that beats the most cursed team in all of sports—not counting the Washington Generals. First of all, it feels fantastic. Second, I don't really have anything against the Cubs. If my team isn't competing against them, I don't mind if they win. Really, they are the lovable losers that everyone makes them out to be. But I'd be lying if I didn't relish every single victory my team claimed. That is the life a true sports fan. And this is how you justify things like beating the Cubs.

After the Cubs' elimination from the playoffs, all the sports pundits (including some ludicrous simulation that said the Dodgers prevailed 67% of the time, which is apparently an overwhelming number in those obviously useless simulations), picked the Dodgers to easily beat the Phillies. I'll go on the record as saying that I hate sports punditry and prognostication.

******

*He also follows the St. Louis Rams (which incidentally have gold and blue as their colors) because they originally were a Los Angeles team.

we're on a break

Today's guest post is actually the first one I received--even before I realized I ought to think about having guest posts this month. I can't even say why I saved his for today. It just felt right. There's not much I can say about my brother, except that I love him as much as he loves the Chicago Cubs. But I guess that's saying more about his love for the team than anything else, because if you've spent any time reading my posts, you know how much I love my brother.

Apparently, he still loves them even after the disappointment of this past baseball season. This post was sent to me on October 8, after the once-promising Chicago Cubs were eliminated from the playoffs.

*********
In 2003 as I sat in a local bar in Cajun Country sipping on the last of my Bud Light, I drowned my sorrows as I watched my beloved Chicago Cubs once again find a way to collapse. I thought to myself How much more can a long-suffering fan endure? The previous night I had been in the same bar watching the events of Steve Bartman as he reached over the stands to basically rip out millions of Cubs Nation hearts and end any hope of the world series. That incident, not to mention an Alex Gonzalez error in the infield, changed the complexity of the enitre series and led me to sorrows the next night. I could not explain it. I was not in Chicago, thank the good lord. I could not believe my eyes and thought nothing could be worse.

Let's fast-forward to 2006, three years after the Bartman incident: new team, new life etc. Alfonso Soriano, D Lee,* Aramis Ramierez--this was the year; we caught the Brew Crew to end the season and won the NL Central. We were on fire going into the playoffs facing a difficult road, but it wasn't impossible. I, however, was nervous as usual but enjoyed the fact that the Cubs were not the front-runners for the NL pennant, but they still had a legitimate shot. Game 3 came before I knew it and the brooms were out already in Roll Tide Nation, where baseball was just an afterthought because Nick Saban and his 4 million dollars had entered 'Bama. I was ridiculed because I was a sucker for a team who just could not win the Big One or smell anything close to it, but I hung in there, thinking that things could not get any worse.

This year was different. I'd had my heart broken twice. I'm not old enough to remember '69, '84 and '89, but I had read and heard enough about "the goat," etc. to believe many others were suffering far worse than I.

2008! One hundred years without a title, a weak NL--the cards just felt right and this was the year. I went to Chicago in May after graduation to see the Cubs as much as I could: six Cubs games in a span of two weeks, even inviting my roommate from LA (Lower Alabama) because I wanted him to visit the Friendly Confines the year that the Cubs were going to finally go All The Way. By mid-September, the Cubs had acquired a pitcher who would complete the rotation and take them to the promised land. Big Z threw a no-hitter, the first since 1932. We had wrapped up home-field advantage. Many said this team was better than every other team that had a realistic shot. 97 wins, an NL best. Repeat NL central champs, All-stars galore. The stars were aligned...

I had been counting down the days until late October. My flight was on stand-by and my mom had already talked to several connections about a game-three ticket to the World Series. "Go Cubs Go" became my ringtone as well as the first song on my iPod. Man the Kool-Aid was tasting great. I was talking so much garbage that people were starting to believe. Game 1 against the Dodgers came quick, and I was ready to see history made in front of my eyes. I was decked out in my Cubs gear, including my new pajamas (thanks mom), standing with excitement as I watched. Then happiness quickly turned into sorrow when James Loney hit a grand slam and Game 1 was over quicker than Usain Bolt in the Olympics. I should have learned my lesson from '03 and '06. Big Z took the mound in Game 2, and an error occurred at every infield position. It looked as though I was watching a movie; it was like God was just standing there as the ball was hit and he paused it and moved the ball, laughing his fanny off in sheer enjoyment.

An erie feeling came from my stomach, and just like that we were SWEPT in three straight games. I was sick with disgust, heartbreak and betrayal. First off, I know it is just a game and no one should care about something that they can't control. My love for the Cubs goes deeper than anything I can imagine. I have read many columns and read the newspapers; many fans are saying that it will never happen. I have even heard of drastic approaches like going to the South side or the Red Birds. And many have given up and said To hell with the "loveable losers." It has been almost a full week since the nightmare, and I sat there and watched the BoSox win yet another series and get one step closer to the World Series. They got over the hump in '04 after 86 years. Even without Manny they are still winning. I'm really not asking for much, just one series. One great October. One magical season that is complete.

One column writer went as far as to say that he broke up with the Cubs on Saturday night. I'm not going to go that far. However I think I need to re-evaluate our relationship until I can get a committment to winning. Until then, we are definitely "on a break."


******
*That's my favorite player!

there's gotta be a support group for this

Apparently H did not realize the NBA season kicked off tonight and missed almost half of the Lakers game. I guess I do cut into his full-time job of keeping up with what's going on with the NBA, NFL and in MLB, which is especially tricky when all three are going on at once.

If you do not know what those acronyms stand for, count yourself BLESSED.

catching up with cadiz: wrigley field

For those of you wondering where the heck I've been, I apologize. Things have been mighty busy, and there have been dozens of posts that have been drafted and dumped because they didn't get posted in a timely manner. Here is one I thought I could salvage, even though I don't remember a lot of the details now. More posts to come, hopefully soon.

When my brother was in town (at the end of May, which feels like a million years ago), H and I took him and his roommate, Mark, to Wrigley Field for a tour.

The marquee (I remember it best from that flashback in Sleepless in Seattle).

The view from Waveland, near where everyone stands around in hopes of catching a ball.

The Chicago Bears played at Wrigley until 1970 and it's been used for soccer (Chicago Sting), concerts and they even had a ski-jump competition.

Originally it housed 14,000 fans and now can seat up to 41,000. We were a little mesmerized about how weird it looked all empty like this.

The place was the first to have an organ (the original is now in the Hall of Fame).

It's also the first baseball field where they allowed fans to keep foul balls as souvenirs.

No one has ever hit the scoreboard--with a baseball. Sam Snead hit it with a golf ball, teeing off from home plate.

If you look closely, home plate and the pitcher's mound don't line up with the "400" sign in center field. When they wanted to add seats, they cut left field and rolled it all back. The pitcher's mound now is where home plate used to be.

AC006299: "After Championship, it's been zero years since their last division championship, it's been 62 years since they won the pennant and it's been 99 years since they last won the World Series. The latin roughly translates to "Let's go Cubs."

People hang out on rooftops during games, too. Sometimes they light up that spinning Harry Caray wheel.

We got to sit in the pressbox. It's a real nice view.

Radio booth, where they might possibly sing "Take Me Out To The Ballgame" during the seventh-inning stretch. Or not. I don't remember.

We got to go into the locker rooms. This one's for visitors.

This is how you're supposed to wear the uniform.

Don't forget your bats, either.

Professional athletes need a LOT of products to look good on the field. And this was the visiting bathroom.

Squint and you'll see a wedding party. Apparently people like to have their photos taken at Wrigley. (Sounds like something my brother would want).

We went on the tour right before the Dodgers/Cubs series at the end of May, and we went to a couple of games. H got a bunch of shots of himself with this dodgers round identifier thingy. It's huge; this photo is from the pressbox. (And I've been informed that it's called the "on-deck circle.")

When we were at the game the next day, these cute old guys would entertain the crowd with their impromptu band.

H caught Derrek Lee's home run. (In fact, he took most of these photos--the good ones, at least.)

Personally, I go to ballgames for the hot dogs and beer. And the peoplewatching.

The Dodgers didn't fare too well in that series. They got swept, and Murphy's Bleachers rubbed it in. Sorry, H. But at least they made a grammatical mistake in their rush to gloat.

The famous ivy.