Syntax of Things

Everything and Still Some

Thanks for all of the horse racing advice.  I'm going to spend the morning prepping, studying racing forms, looking at pictures of horses with funny names, and picking out the perfect hat to wear to Del Mar.  Instead of the regular goodness you've come to expect <cough>, I'm giving you a quick rundown and update of all the categories I've used here at Syntax of Things:

Baseball:  The Braves have regained their rightful place atop the division standings.  Ok, so they're tied for first, but it's been a long two months of waiting for the inevitable.

Books & Writers:  I will be picking up the McCarthy novel at some point before going out to the track.

General:  According to this report: "The central Appalachian states lead the nation in toothlessness. More than 32 percent of Tennessee residents surveyed last year had lost six or more teeth because of decay or gum disease, according to the Centers for Disease Control. That number was 38 percent in Kentucky and 43 percent in West Virginia, which holds the distinction of the most toothless state. Kentucky ranked No. 1 in toothlessness in 2003."

Hell in a Handbasket:  The Patriot Act is well on its way to renewal.  Doesn't that help you sleep better at night?

Images: 

Fisherman on Martha's Vineyard, Mass. display a massive 1,100-pound tiger shark Sunday, July 17, 2005. Unfortunately, the fisherman failed to capture first place in the monster shark derby because their boat was six minutes too late in returning to Oak Bluffs harbor with its catch. (AP Photo/Chris Lewis, ohmycod.com)

Impressions Before Reshelving:  I need to do a better job with the category.  To be honest, I forgot that I'd created it.

Load of Links:  See any post this week.

Music:  Bradley's Almanac has mp3s of Dinosaur Jr.'s recent homecoming show.  I've always been a fan of their cover of the Cure's "Just Like Heaven."

Ramblings:  No time for rambling today.  Got horses to study up on.

San Diego:  Well, let's see.  Our mayor resigned shortly after being named one of the three worst mayors in the country.  Within moments of the interim mayor's ascendancy to power, he was convicted, along with another city councilman, of taking bribes from some strip club owners who hoped they would help repeal San Diego's "no touch" law. There was actually a third councilman convicted, but he died last year of liver failure brought on by some heavy drinking (allegedly).  Well, the two convicted councilman have now resigned, meaning that I am without representation until at the earliest November.  Meanwhile, we are to elect a new mayor this Tuesday and I don't think anyone gives a damn. 

Smoking:  Operation Quit-by-Christmas is still in the planning stages.  Considering hypnotism.

Sports:  "It is 'Faith Night' at the ballpark. The Class A Hagerstown Suns are among the minor league teams, mostly in the South, that will bring in Christian entertainers, have players give their testimonies, conduct faith trivia quizzes for prizes and have giveaways that could include biblical bobble-head dolls." (emphasis mine)

Television & Movies:  SoT recommends: Me And You And Everyone We Know

The Books I've Read:  I hope to have a sidebar up soon showing the list of books I've completed this year. Right now, I'm on book 32 of 2005, a little off of last year's pace but not bad considering the lack of time I've had this year.

The IJ Report:  Done, done, and done.

The Kerouac Project:  On hold.  Blame the recent slate of new books that have kept me away from Kerouac.  I still want to do this but for now Jack will have to wait.

Tour of California League:  Geoff and I will be hitting the road in August to check out the new park in Stockton and the non-Cal League stadium in Fresno.

Weather:  This is usually my least favorite time of year to live in San Diego.  Long months of no rain in the forecast.  Incredibly enough, we have a significant chance of some thunderstorms over the next few days thanks to a nice monsoonal flow and the remnants of the latest Atlantic hurricane.  This does mean that the humidity has gone up significantly, and along with a heat wave it makes for some uncomfortable sleeping in an apartment that has only one window a/c unit. 

Would You Like Fries with That:  This is the one project/category that I want to finish before the end of the year.  That's my goal, but I'm not making any promises.

Would You Like Fries With That--1990

{I'd intended to post something about pomegranates and Alfred Kinsey, but the leftover turkey has too much of a pull and I'm a sucker for football games played in the snow.  The little piece about sex will have to wait for later in the week when the distractions become less attractive.  This is the second in a series of posts about my work history.  To see the previous one, go here.}

My time of being a gas station sweeper/painter earned me enough pay to keep me happily unemployed during my freshman year of college. I was able to learn all of life's important lessons and attend classes without the hassle of having to do anything much more than making sure that I had enough Mountain Dew in the refrigerator to get me through the week. Of course, it helped that I had a pretty nice scholarship that kept four cinder-block walls around me and a cement slab roof over my head, not to mention that the salt-peter laced food of the cafeteria was kindly provided to me gratis by a Presidential Award (and to think, I never thanked him for all of those fried fish fillet sandwiches). But with the summer of 1990 looming, I knew that my idle time had to be filled. My father wouldn't stand by and let me do nothing. So I started making phone calls. Genius me came up with a plan. I would move to Atlanta for the summer and stay with my Aunt Jackie. Jackie's husband, Rex, said that he could easily get me some sort of job working on the truck docks at the company that employed him as an accountant.

Would You Like Fries with That--The Early Years

{With so little going on and T'giving preparations looming, I'm going to revisit a series of posts I began in the Blogger days of SoT.  I never finished the series, but hopefully I will be able to over the next several weeks.}

Not many people I know entered the workforce at age 13 (and I’m not including grass cutting, car washing, or lemonade selling). Trust me, I didn’t one day wake up and decide to get my career started before all of the good ones were taken. My decision was made for me. In 1983, my dad discovered that there was an alarming shortage of electrical contractors in the tiny town of Atmore, Alabama. He saw a way to make his thousands by starting his own business there. Those first few years were definitely the Mom & Pop years of the new company. He operated out of a rented apartment while Mom served as the secretary and bookkeeper, doing much of her work from the kitchen table as she multi-tasked homework help and cooking. In the summer of 1984, in the midst of his first large job as a newly minted business owner (an addition to the First Baptist Church in another small town nearby), Dad decided to dip into the family work pool, so he recruited me as his first full-time helper. At the tender age of 13 ½, I became a taxpaying member of society. My initial salary was $2.50 an hour, but Dad paid for all lunches, and the benefits included unlimited vacation for visits to cousins and a few days off to be, well, thirteen. The work was mostly menial labor but did have its share of risks (electrocution was always a misplaced screwdriver away) and rewards (getting to know my father as something other than a disciplinarian and occasional batting practice pitcher).