May « 2011 « Kenny Smith | A remarkable thing happens …

May, 2011

iPhone / photo / Thursday — Comments Off
26
May 11

Lawn drama

Mowed the lawn today, because it needed it. Not convinced at all that I needed it. But the guy that mows the lawn for our neighbors rode by and stuck out his tongue, so I suppose it was time.

I am still feeling more than a little beat up from last weekend’s adventures, mind you. At least I can stand up and sit down down without sounding like I spent the night being tortured by ninjas, and that’s progress, but lifting and bending are still not the best ideas. That’s OK for mowing, though, because I can push and walk with the best of them. Unless that’s what the neighbor’s guy was suggesting …

The problem is in the removal of the clippings. Our new mower has a giant bag on the bag of the thing, designed to catch each singular blade of grass, lest it somehow sully the neighborhood’s image. I can do the full lawn in four bags, which means stopping the engine, bending over, disengaging the bag, hefting it up and wrestling the giant maw into an uncooperative garbage bag. Then there is the lifting by the strap on the back of the bag, and the shaking and pouring and dislodging of lawn litter.

All of these things hurt.

And it was turning warm today, too.

But I got the job done. I drove around two nearby neighborhoods to seek out the neighbor’s lawn man and return his rhetorical fire.

Or I would have, if I hadn’t thought I’d lost the cat. When I walked back through the garage I noticed the interior door wasn’t latched. And so now the fears begin. Allie is strictly an inside creature, having lost her predator and adventuring instincts long ago. When we do take her out she finds the spot of dirt nearest the door and rolls in it. This cat is a dog trapped in a cat’s body, I’m convinced. Her being outside for any length of time, though, won’t end well and now I’ve invited her to the big bad world because I was taunted outside by a lawn man.

Quick sweep through the house: nothing. Hustle through the yard: nothing. Through the house again, calling her name again: still no cat. Outside once more. Did she get through the neighbor’s fence? No cat. Down the street, with no luck. I text The Yankee, feeling like a total jerk. She’s on her way home anyway and her car passes me as I walk up the other side of the street looking. Still nothing.

I walk back to my driveway as she walks outside.

“She’s asleep in the dining room.”

Dreaming of chasing squirrels, no doubt. Good cat.

Auburn / baseball / Wednesday — Comments Off
25
May 11

Bad news baseball

Baseball, oy. Auburn drew the eighth seed in the SEC tournament, this after being in contention for the SEC West Division championship until the final weekend of the regular season. Problem: everyone in the West was similarly eligible. Result: Auburn played the top-seeded, defending national champion, could take two-of-three from the New York Mets, South Carolina in the first game of the conference tournament today.

Going in, Auburn needed two wins to be eligible for the NCAA Regionals — they have this pesky rule about being above .500 — and after today’s loss to South Carolina Auburn still needs two wins. Fortunately this tournament uses a double-elimination format.

The last time those two teams got together:

Auburn started with an eight-run first inning. The Tigers started the ninth inning 11-5 and looking for the (series) sweep.

After nine runs (on three hits!) including two bases-loaded walks and a grand slam UGA leads 14-11. Tigers need a rally (and a bullpen).

Oy.

journalism / links / memories / Tuesday — Comments Off
24
May 11

Popular media publication

Just discovered I had a piece run in the Smithsonian Magazine. Sure, it was a submit-your-own kind of thing, but that hardly matters, does it? But I’ll take it and stick it next to “Published by ESPN and “appeared in almost every major broadcast market” as small professional successes.

Stumbled into each one of them. The major market work happened because I was at the scene of something interesting — the first victims of the DC snipers (John Allen Muhammad was executed 18 months ago), bad storms, my good timing to be in D.C. when the Iraq War started, sports scandals (Chris Porter is in trouble again) and so on. Just bumped into Jim Caple at the ballpark, which turned into a nice little photo gallery for ESPN, piggybacked on a nice package I did on Rickwood for al.com. I wrote the Smithsonian thing when I should have been studying.

See, kids? Procrastination can be good. So is timing.

In other news: I’m still sore from where standing water beat me up this weekend. Sometimes I feel a little bit better, and then other times I am less than ideal. This will take some time, it seems.

I’m not complaining, mind you. I have been perfecting that story, though: Did I tell you about the time my wife beat me up? She’s strong.

Or: Did I tell you about the time I leapt from a plane, thwarted three ninjas mid-air, lost my chute and landed in a convenient lake, cartwheeling to a halt with a bruised up body? Those ninjas weren’t nearly as strong as my lovely bride. (Sometimes we must suffer for our art.)

If you see me moving a bit slowly the next few days, you’ll know why.

Auburn / links / Monday — Comments Off
23
May 11

I’m sore

This is that day-after feeling. It is no fun. The chair is better than the sofa. Sitting still is better than moving. Reading is about all I’m up for today.

This has been my favorite piece.

I just stare across the table at this polite 62-year-old man, his hair neatly combed, his face covered by a beard he hopes will allow him a measure of anonymity. Well, I stare at two different people, both of whom have made an appearance in the first two minutes.

There is Harvey Updyke, a remorseful grandfather who claims he didn’t poison those trees and wishes he’d never called a radio show to take credit for it.

And there’s Al from Dadeville — Updyke’s radio nom de guerre — who loves Alabama football, and, if he’s being totally honest, doesn’t understand why everybody’s so damn mad.

[…]

“Well, I’m just a very unhealthy Alabama fan,” he says. “I live it. I breathe it. I think about Alabama football, I’m not exaggerating, 18 hours a day. I have always been that way. It just didn’t start. That’s what people don’t understand. The first thing I do when I wake up in the morning is get on Tiderinsider and see what’s going on. I mean, I know it’s not healthy. I’ve been knowing that a long time. I have a daughter 33 years old named Crimson Tyde.”

If the judge in Updyke’s case lets drivel like this in you’ll see the most sympathetic instance of split personality pleading in modern trial law.

Everybody ready for the circus? His trial is presently set to begin June 20th.

adventures / iPhone / photo / weekend — Comments Off
22
May 11

That’s gonna leave a mark

It is so hard to say goodbye to a four-star hotel. Especially when you know you’ll never stay at a Ritz again.

Though, I will say this: our ironing board was missing a foot, making it rickety. And the electric outlets in our room were installed upside down. Maybe it is really the Rits-Karltown, and we were mistaken.

But the towels, good heavens the towels were luxurious. You dried yourself clouds who had the misfortune of getting too close to the laundry room. The wait staff waded down into the infinity pool to bring drinks. People there fell all over themselves to help you. Breakfast this morning was the best buffet you could ever experience. The place smelled of potpourri and there was fine oak in dark accents everywhere you looked. Everything was granite-topped or better. Fine place.

After breakfast we checked out and went back to the lake house. Dave wanted to take us all out on the boat, so there we were, enjoying the sun and the breeze and a quiet stretch of Georgian lake and pine scenery.

Dave broke out the jet skis and people took turns riding them. One of them came free and The Yankee wanted to ride. She invited me along and I’m thinking She’s never driven one before. I’ve never been on one before. What could go wrong? I ask you again WHAT COULD GO WRONG!?!?!?!?

You drive a jet ski a little differently than other things that are not nautical. We putt-putt away and she says “How do you turn?”

“Wide. It doesn’t spin on a dime.” She turns the thing back in the general direction of the pontoon and guns it. We accelerate. We’re moving at a good clip. I glance down at the digital speedometer and see 52. (It should be noted we were on the slower of the two jet skis. And, if you are unaware, when you get in the 40-plus range on water, that is serious.)

I say “Slow down!” just as we cross a wake and are both elevated out of the seated position.

In the moment I had left before my savior called me home I decided it was either me or both of us. I pushed her shoulders down, forcing her back toward the jet ski and pushing me away. I fly off the thing somewhere in the neighborhood of 50 miles an hour. (Let’s call it 65, just to be safe.)

I managed to get my body turned to the right and tuck my right arm back in something close to a normal position and have mostly exhaled when I hit the water. And, if you’ve never done this: hitting the water at 145 miles per hour is not unlike hurling yourself into a sturdy wall.

I go under. And all of these are the first seven rapid-fire thoughts, occurring much faster than I can type them or you can read them:

1.) OOOOF!
2.) I’m glad for this life jacket.
3.) This is what death feels like.
4.) I’m going to die now.
5.) This is what broken ribs feel like.
6.) Wind, knocked out of me.
7.) Force breathing, force breathing.

That all happened in the amount of time I hit the water, submerged and the lake halted my flailing and flopping. I’d landed on my right side, feet towards the still-traveling jet ski, head back pointing at nothing in particular, and I took it all on my rib cage.

I haven’t absorbed a good shot like that in a long while. She said that by the time she had the jet ski turned around to find me she could already hear me grunting and straining to breathe. (The best way to do it, I believe, is just force your body to do it. The first two or three tries are no fun at all, but at least after that it is over and you can breathe again.) So I was in the water, thankful for the lifejacket (which I ordinarily hate) because I didn’t have to worry about swimming. I could just sound like some martial arts expert chopping a noisy tennis player in half while the tennis player volleys.

She turns to come back and I waved her off because that was all I could think to do. I really wanted to breathe and didn’t want to have to floating into her novice jet ski self. Finally I got it together enough that I brought her in, but I couldn’t climb on the stupid thing because I was wet, weak and slick from sun block. So she had to almost pick me up, like you see in westerns from time to time, but with much less grace. And that was pretty much my day. Before everyone got done with the boating I had gotten good and stiff.

I had some Advil at the lake house and then we hit the road. Just got home, in time to take some Ibuprofen and am moving verrrry gingerly. I haven’t bruised up, I can breathe, I don’t think anything is broken, but I got beat up good!