Random Notes from a Crank

Lately, I've been thinking that I need to go back through all of my posts over the years and label them like many other blogs do, but when confronted with that many posts, it's clear I need to have some kind of regimen to do this: labeling while watching baseball or while the kids watch some silly sit-com on the Disney channel. It'll take a while, so I've already started.

For part of last week, I spent time in downtown St. Louis for a conference. Even though the Nasty family (sans El Nino) spent five years in StL, I didn't spend much time downtown. I've visited many downtowns of metro areas over the years, and St. Louis showed itself pretty well. It's not New Orleans (one of my favorite big conference destinations), but we had good weather, and the city is a heck of a lot more affordable than conferences at Disney, San Francisco, NYC, and others.

On the flip side of the positives of St. Louis, my buddy woke to find the passenger side window of his car shattered and his cell phone stolen from his car on Saturday morning. Smash and grab crime, StL style.

I've been going to the aforementioned conference for so long that I recognize people I've seen multiple times even though I don't know them. Here's a sampling of my inner thoughts:

• "There's the guy with an eye patch."
• "Seriously lady, a beret?"
• "Wow, he's lost weight."
• "Here he comes. And watch the sucking up ensue."
• "She's supposed to be so great, but every presentation I've gone to of hers is lackluster at best." 
• "Don't notice me [I don't want to talk to him.]. Don't notice me [I don't want to talk to him.]. Just walk quietly."
• "There he is: the grizzled ex-hippy dude from California." 
• "She's really working that I'm originally from the West thang--the boots, the blouse, etc." 

I think my lawnmower is dying or perhaps even is dead. I spent most of yesterday outside. I mowed the front lawn for a short time. Then the mower sputtered out on me as I was cutting some high grass. It wouldn't start. I cleaned a filter. It wouldn't start. So I decided to whack weeds. I tried to start the lawnmower--repeatedly. It wouldn't start--repeatedly. I decided to check the spark plug. It looked nasty, so I went to Rural King and got a new one. I installed a new spark plug. It started. I cut the back yard, which is well fertilized by dog scat, on a high setting and then moved to my regular setting. I almost got the lawn done, but the lawnmower died. It wouldn't start. I threw my hat in disgust. My son laughed at me. Then I helped Mrs. Nasty and the kids weed and rake the front flower beds. The kids and I took the bags of leaves and sweet gum balls to the dump. We got back. I tried to start it again. I wouldn't start. We went for a bike ride and visited the park. We came back. I tried to start it. It wouldn't start. I finished the job with my old push and reel mower. 

Deep Thought: The grass is always greener on the other side, but that's just where the dogs shit.

One of my favorite lines from the new Todd Snider is this one from "Big Finish": "It ain't the despair that gets you. It's the hope." 

Louisville Slugger

Since I arrived in Louisville a little early for my conference, I've been walking about this city, enjoying the mid-60s weather, and admiring this Louisville's Main Street. And the room I have here at the Galt House Hotel has a great view overlooking the Ohio River.

As if I haven't been anticipating baseball season enough, this afternoon I toured the Louisville Slugger Museum and Factory.

It's a tour about bats and baseball, so it's mainly of interest for true believers. I found it striking that 53 employees (if I remember the figure correctly) churn out 1.82 million bats a year. Of course, computer-mediated machinery do most of the hard work nowadays, but it was interesting how bats have changed with the game, moving from thick-handled and heavy models to the thinner handled and lighter models.

In what lurched me back toward boyhood man-love, visitors get to check out and hold the bats of baseball stars. During my tour we got to grasp the balance and heft of bats made for Alfonso Soriano, Yogi Berra, Ryan Theriot, and Alex Rodriguez. And of course Hall-of-Famers' bats are on display too--Ruth, Wagner, Hornsby, DiMaggio, Aaron, Cobb, and many others.

The Old Mint

My hotel here in San Francisco is right across from the old US Mint, which must be some kind of historical landmark. Regardless of its status, bums like to sleep there at night. I saw two getting up to meet the day this morning as I started my walk to the conference hotel.

Bums sleeping at the old US Mint, anyone can to take a stab at that symbolism?

After visiting another big city, I can say that I'm happy living in a small town again. As urban areas go though, I did like living in St. Louis and KC because they're both metro areas that aren't too big.

Once you get past "small market" city size, there's just too much big town "stuff" to put up with.