Rainbows and puppies

I always feel a lot better when the sun is shining. It's almost impossible to be depressed when the sky is ... well, sky blue, for lack of a better description. Being at the ballpark makes it even better, because the grass is emerald green and the infield dirt kind of an orangey burnt sienna, and the three colors provide a great contrast to each other.

I have a day off tomorrow, which I'm rather dreading. I can't find my bathing suit so it'd be kind of a waste to drive to the beach. I've got dinner with the Keens at 7 so I can't go fishing too early in the day or else I'll be long gone by 7. I definitely could use the sleep, so maybe I'll just stay home and catch up. But I haven't been real fishing in sooooooo long, and I heard the snook are really moving now that the water's heating up. Tough call.

I wonder how many times I'm going to have to tell these assbags that I don't write the headlines on top of my stories. I walked in yesterday and got my ass handed to me because Matt so thoughtfully made a giant deal out of the story I wrote about one of the Rays' top prospects, Wade Davis. I wrote something to the effect of Davis living up to the hype surrounding him so far and maybe even surpassing it, so when the wheels fell off a little bit during his third start, no one was really concerned. My wonderful Matty put a picture of Davis as the paper's cover with giant, screaming words, "When the wheels fall off."

To Davis' credit, I'm sure he wanted to say something to me and didn't. But hey, everybody else on the team did so I guess he didn't have to. I get that if you don't work in my industry, maybe you just assume I write everything right down to the captions. Once I explain to you that I have no power over headlines or anything past what appears UNDER my name, I think that absolves me of shit-taking. Plus, you dicks make fun of me all day every day. I hear the things you say when you think I can't hear you. I don't whine because I know I've drawn this lot in life and that's part of the job description. You're a professional, too. So grow some thick skin. Besides, do you really care what I think of you?

Part of me feels bad, because I'd be pissed if someone who never played in the majors (or the minors, for that matter) was critiquing me, which is why I try my hardest not to sound like a know-it-all. The reasonable part of me says that to be fair to both Wade and myself, he did suck (6 earned runs in 2 2/3 innings) that day. My story was objective if not damn sympathetic. The other reporters ripped him, but their copy editors know enough to not write shitty headlines, so I go down. In flames.

Ah well.

Maybe next time I'll tear into a pitcher because their shortstop bunted into a double play. If I'm responsible for everyone else at my work, surely he is too?

Blah. Whatever.

How out of shape am I? I went and saw the trainer yesterday and I have shin splints -- from boxing TWO TIMES. I laughed. What happened to tuff girl? Granted, it's been about four months since I broke my hand and lost the ability to hit anything, but still. I need some serious work, haha. Besides my shins, I'm sore in the oddest of places: the inside of my elbows. When you're little, your coach teaches you how to hit without fully extending your arm which surprisingly takes more conscious thought than you'd think. Apparently I forgot all of that in less than half a year. Cheers for the old lady, eh?

I'm sleepy. It really shouldn't be 8 p.m. already. I'd say these 16-hour days need to stop, but I will definitely miss them as soon as they're gone. What else do I have to look forward to in my days, if not work?

I talked to Ed yesterday, and he made me smile. I talked to Jordan today, and he's Canadian. I asked Joe Maddon about taking his pants off during a TV interview, debated the true value of a "mighty badonkadonk," sat on a bee (it didn't sting me), ran in the dirt barefoot and panicked at the sight of Pat Burrell's giant brass spittoon. (C'mon Pat, really? You know if anybody trips over that and makes it spill all over the logo, it's going to be me).

Good times, people. Good times.

Three cheers for an off-day tomorrow. Anyone want to go to Busch Gardens? Bar? Fishing? Hmmmm?