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Wed 06/10/2009
A Tribute, Of Sorts

Lo these many years ago, circa 1987, a movie came out. It was called "Bull Durham." It featured a minor league baseball team based in Durham. They played at the Durham Athletic Park, which was a pathetic little minor league ballpark for the Class-A Carolina League that was old and TOTALLY AWESOME. There was a Ballpark Corner store, actually located on the corner, by the ballpark. Durham was kind of sketchy, so you had to be careful where you parked. The Bulls were affiliated with the Atlanta Braves, who really sucked at the time. Nonetheless, Molly became a Braves fan sort of by default since the Bulls players occasionally made it up to the big leagues and played for those very same Braves. (Also, TBS.)

In 1991, Molly experienced a life-changing moment. She went to a big league game, at Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium. The Braves were playing the Pirates, and a left-handed pitcher named Tom Glavine happened to be starting (and finishing) that day. One complete game later and Molly was a fan for life.

Molly went on with her life, pursuing a career in baseball and achieving slight success. Tom Glavine went on with his life, achieving much more success and even, dare we say, baseball immortality. Molly attended college and moved away from home. On one of her visits back to Durham, her mom casually mentioned that she had been out shopping and had seen something that she just had to get. It was an Atlanta Braves onesie. Molly was a bit taken aback; she had entertained no thoughts of future childbearing. Molly's mom put the onesie away.

Molly, interning for the Houston Astros, had to endure numerous taunts about Tom Glavine from her boss who hated the Braves, (before and) since they and especially Sid Bream had broken his Pirate-loving heart in October of 1992.

Molly remained steadfast in her love of Tom Glavine, however, and then he started Game 2 of the NLDS against the Astros at Enron Field in October 2001.

In the elevator going down to the field, Molly's boss said, "I'm not even going to ask you who you're rooting for."
Molly replied, "I hope Tommy goes eight shutout innings, and the Astros win in the ninth."
Molly's boss laughed, short, and said, "If he goes eight, we're done."

He went eight. The Braves won, 1-0.

Molly's boss let her go to the interview room post-game because he was really a pretty nice guy underneath all the taunting. And so Molly got to watch Tom Glavine's postgame interview. When he was done, he walked past her -- within inches! -- on the way out as B.J. Surhoff (Tar Heel) was walking in, and he said, "Go get 'em Beej."

BUT THEN Tom Glavine, author of None but the Braves, LEFT ATLANTA to go play in New York. Molly was devastated.

Though Molly was working in Memphis at the time, she went to the 2004 All-Star Game in Houston and watched Tom Glavine and his little left-handed son play long toss in the outfield. He pitched a scoreless inning in the game.

Tom Glavine went about his business and eventually, finally, won that 300th game.

Meanwhile, Molly moved back to North Carolina, got married, and had a baby.

And Tom Glavine re-signed with Atlanta, to finish his career with the Braves, as it should be. Molly's baby was a boy, and he would be big enough for his Braves onesie in June. Molly was thrilled. There was a small snag, when Glavine's surgically repaired left arm needed more time to get up to speed (sort of), but he rehabbed in the minors (sadly, the Bulls were no longer affiliated with the Braves) and he was all set to make his season debut on June 7. Life was beautiful.

But then! THE BRAVES RELEASED TOM GLAVINE ON JUNE 2. Patrick wore his onesie anyway, in a show of defiance and, in his own way, a show of support for Tom Glavine.

Patrick, extending his left arm in a show of solidarity.

Posted by Molly at 5:05 PM EDT
Updated: Fri 03/10/2023 12:52 PM EST
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Thu 01/29/2009
On Parenting

[scene: Molly & James on couch, watching "Rock of Love Bus with Bret Michaels." Patrick in bouncy seat.]

James: I think he should pick Mindy. I like her or Taya. And whoever that one is with the tattoo on her ... lower stomach area ... that points to her ... uh ...
Molly: I have stretch marks there. That's like the same thing.


Posted by Molly at 3:15 PM EST
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Wed 01/14/2009
Another Letter to My Son

Dear Patrick,

I had an idea of what I was in for when I had a baby and committed to breastfeeding (or trying) for at least three months (which is why I waited 28 years to get pregnant). But what I did not count on was this tendency of yours to eat until you appear sated, until you appear drunk on milk, smiling (gas, whatever) and drooling and nearly asleep, and then, when I try to move you, you turn into a squalling ball of distress. I think half the time you just like sucking on something. The other half you are still legitimately hungry, which is okay, but dammit, just eat. Don't tease your mother into thinking you are done.

Because you do this, I am going to tell the internet that you like your balls blow-dried. The reason I know this is because you had diaper rash, and I read that I should clean your little bum with warm water and blow it dry. So I dutifully tried this, and buddy, you love it. Now whenever I can't get you to stop crying, I blow dry your balls. It works like a charm. Every time. They won't do that at daycare, by the way, and I bet your future girlfriends won't like this little habit of yours.

Always remember, son, payback's a bitch.

Love,
Mommy


Posted by Molly at 2:24 PM EST
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Sun 01/04/2009
A Short Letter to My Son

Dear Patrick,

Today you discovered your thumb. You had been cramming your entire fist into your mouth, then you sort of realized that maybe an index finger was sufficient. But today, today you tried to suck on your index finger and accidentally stuck it up your nose instead -- and voila! Your thumb was in your mouth. I think it was just because you couldn't figure out how to remove your finger from your nose. You really are Daddy's boy. I was so proud.

Love, Mommy

p.s. Please stop crying.


Posted by Molly at 9:51 PM EST
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Fri 10/17/2008
Conversations at the Doctor's Office

or, Why I Might Choose Differently Should I Find Myself In This Situation Again

~~~~~

Phlebotomist: So, just to verify, you weigh 1xx?
Molly: [OH MY GOD NO WAY PLEASE NO] Uh, well, I had asked not to be told but if that's what my chart says, I'm sure it's right.
P: Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't know.
M: That's okay.
P: You don't look like you weigh that much. I would never guess that. I mean, look at me. I wish I weighed that.

~~~~~

Phlebotomist: Is it okay if I put this tape on your arm?
Molly: Sure.
P: You have really hairy arms.
M: ...
P: I do too. I'm part Native American. But I never thought I would meet anyone who had hairier arms than me.
M: Huh.
P: And I have sideburns, too, see?

~~~~~

Nurse: So how have you been feeling?
Molly: Well, I had a cold over the weekend, so that wasn't fun, but I feel fine.
N: On a scale of 0-10, what's your pain?
M: Uhh....zero?
N: Is this your first?
M: Yes.
N: So you don't know how bad it's going to get.
M: Erm. ... No. ... My mom said she had an easy time of it. I'm hoping I will too.
N: You know that's not genetic.
M: Well, yes, but I'm hoping.
N: My mother was only in labor for two hours but it took me 24.
M: Mmm.
N: (looking at chart) So you're, what, 27-28 weeks?
M: Um...almost 32.
N: [walks out]

~~~~~


Posted by Molly at 11:58 AM EDT
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Wed 10/15/2008
31*

I really meant to do this a long time ago.

Here we have six weeks (in my streaky mirror at home in the bathroom) and 26 weeks (in DC on Labor Day). I really should have been more mindful of the wrinkles in the six-weeks shot, as it makes me look rather poochy. I could have done five weeks instead; it's a smoother silhouette, but I'm not wearing the pink tank top and also I liked the parallels of 6 and 26. I'm weird like that.

Six Weeks Twenty-Six Weeks

*Today is 31 weeks, 5 days. 31 was also Bo Hart's number the year I worked for the Redbirds. Ah, good times. Anyway, getting back to my point, I have photos from my baby shower over the weekend but I haven't uploaded them yet. Hopefully I will do so this weekend, but based on my track record, I might not post them until the baby's here...


Posted by Molly at 9:44 AM EDT
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Wed 07/02/2008
it's been a long December

 


Posted by Molly at 10:58 AM EDT
Updated: Fri 03/10/2023 3:59 PM EST
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Tue 04/01/2008
Lovefest + Letter

I love Tom Glavine. I know this comes as no surprise to anyone, but that Atlanta uniform, #47, it makes me like baseball again. Not that I stopped liking it, exactly, but it had lost its magic.

 

Which brings me to my next point.


+++++


Dear NSG, 

I think the only thing I can’t forgive you for is taking the magic away. I will always remember stepping onto Enron Field (with you) that cold, cloudy February day, and it was perfect. Everything in my life had been leading up to that point, and it was just as it should be. It was right. I was scared to death about moving to Houston alone, but this made it all worth it – no matter what had happened before or what would happen after. It was enough just to see that field, and all that possibility. It had always been like that for me: seeing a baseball field just made me happy. It was magic.  

It stayed like that all year with the Astros, through the end of the season when Tom Glavine told B.J. Surhoff to “go get ’em, Beej” in the interview room after Game 2 of the NLDS (and you sent me down there to hear it, even though you spent the entire game giving me crap); through the next season when my personal life took a somewhat unexpected and rather jarring turn; through the start of the season after that. And then you ruined it. 

The night before you left, we all knew something was up, but we thought, hey, it happens, he’ll get over it. And I thought, driving to work the next day, “I wonder if he was writing a resignation letter,” but no, you wouldn’t do that, not like that. But oh yes, you would, and you did, and it was worse, because you disappeared, without a word. That night was one of the worst nights of my life. I was sitting there in the press box, watching BP, and I felt nothing. And then watching the game – nothing.

That’s what I can’t forgive you for.  You didn’t feel like you needed to say anything to me, because “it wasn’t about you,” and I could forgive you for that (even if you didn’t really mean it when you said sorry). I forgave a lot, and I think everyone else did, too, because you were such a great guy and we all loved you, and you got dumped on, and we all felt bad for you. (I sometimes wonder if you and K talk, or, if you don’t, does she think about you, too?) And it all seems to have worked out for you.  

But here we are now, and you've thrown our friendship away. Seven years, all total, some better than others, gone. I don’t know why, though I could guess. Even that I could forgive you for, not that you’ve asked, I guess because you either don’t want to or don’t feel you need to, and that’s fine. 

But I still can’t forgive you for taking away the baseball magic. 

Molly 

Posted by Molly at 2:32 PM EDT
Updated: Thu 03/09/2023 9:24 AM EST
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Mon 03/31/2008
Nonfat

My mom and I went shoe-shopping on Saturday. You see, when I went shopping with Marcy on Good Friday, I had seen this pair of shoes that just screamed my name. However, being good-budgeting-Molly, I decided that I had enough similar shoes (that had screamed my name in the past), and I didn't buy the shoes. Then, last week, it was a really nice day and I went to grab some of my cute similar shoes out of the closet, and that is when I realized that when the puppy got into my closet that one time, he actually got his paws (by which I mean teeth) on FOUR pairs of shoes instead of two as I had originally thought. I am having some trouble adjusting to the puppy (I am slowly realizing that it is quite likely that I will never really love him, just tolerate him) so I decided to have some shop therapy and buy the shoes.

Aren't they adorable?

Then I saw another pair, and another, and before you know it, I was grabbing the huge mesh bag that DSW provides, because Mom had two pairs, too. It was a successful day. Also, it makes me miss living in civilization. I always thought I would do okay as a country sort, and I would, if only the country had a Target within five miles. And if that Target had a Starbucks. I had neither of these things within 20 miles of me now. It is awful.

Anyway, we were shopping at the DSW by New Hope Commons (if anyone local reads my blog), where I used to go all the time with my best friend Kristen when we were in high school, because that dark time was before the evil Southpoint was built. (Just kidding, I love Southpoint. Not its parking but hey, whatever.) No one really goes to New Hope Commons anymore, unless they are going to Wal-Mart. But across the street, there is another shopping center, newer, with a DSW and a Kohl's and a Panera. (I love Panera.) So when we stopped at the Barnes & Noble at New Hope, it was for the first time in a very long time. (B&N's at Brier Creek and Southpoint, y'know.) We were basically finishing up there, because you know how I love my sweet coffee drinks. We headed over to the cafe. There was the cashier, the barista, and someone else stocking the bake case. There were a couple of people ahead of us in line. And the cashier was bitching and moaning. She didn't have anyone to close. Waah. She wasn't going to be able to leave on time. Waah. You know, I am all about bitching about work, but you don't do that in front of customers. And then, when it was our turn, she was STILL bitching, and she was whining about her evening being ruined so that she was not only downright rude to us, but also screwed up my drink. I asked for a non-fat mocha. She didn't give me nonfat. I would have complained because she was such a bitch about it, except it was so damn good. I don't know why I even try to eat well/count calories. Where does it get me? Nowhere. *Sigh.*

The right drink, from my course on Thursday.


Posted by Molly at 4:59 PM EDT
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Fri 03/28/2008
exhibiting ADD symptoms

Yesterday I attended a course entitled “Presenting Data and Information.” Let’s call the presenter “Edward Tufte” because … that is his name (™ Bridget Jones). I should start with a disclaimer of sorts: I actually thought this course was interesting and possibly useful. Now, onto the fun stuff, a timeline of the day’s events!

 

8:05 a.m. – Leave house for ridiculously long drive; course is located near previous apartment, far from current residence in east bumfuck.

8:35 a.m. – Realize that exit for local shopping center is coming up, local shopping center that contains Starbucks.

8:36 a.m. – Decide against taking exit; company may not want to pay for coffee since already ate breakfast at home.

8:42 a.m. – Almost to course’s location. Realize that right turn will take me to Harris Teeter that contains Starbucks. Ponder situation at red light.

8:43 a.m. – Decide against turning right to Starbucks.

8:48 a.m. – Right turn: course. Left turn: Starbucks. Decide to turn right. Wish had not moved to east bumfuck as used to live in Starbucks heaven.

8:50 a.m. – Miss turnoff for course on badly marked road. Next turn will take me to Starbucks.

8:51 a.m. – Starbucks, here I come.

8:55 a.m. – Arrive Starbucks.

8:56 a.m. – Depart Starbucks with tall decaf nonfat no-whip mocha. (Tall because it is on company card, decaf in honor of Babywatch ’08, nonfat, no-whip in honor of Workout watch ’08.)

8:57 a.m. – Spill Starbucks down front of sweater. Sigh. At least have cardigan to hide unsightly coffee stain.

9:05 a.m. – Arrive at course. Parking lot is full, but field next to lot is apparently the place to be. Register and sit down to do pre-reading and enjoy the rest of my mocha.

9:41 a.m. – Course, supposed to start at 10, is becoming quite full. Blonde woman comes up to my row (third from back, end seat), says to guy next to me, “Want some company?” What about me, I seethe privately, I don’t want any company.

9:59 a.m. – Unwelcome neighbor whacks elbow with coursebook. Seems unconcerned. Seethe privately.

10:02 a.m. – Course starts with presentation featuring a visual display of a Chopin melody. Think: “Ooh, it’s like guitar hero!”

10:25 a.m. – Realize ET is reading directly from his book.

10:26 a.m. – Ha! “ET”!

10:30 a.m. – ET announces, “If you parked across the street, you’re screwed. Go move your car.” Half of section slinks out.

10:35 a.m. – ET promises shorter meetings if follow his protocol. Think: “Buddy, you don’t know [evil empire].”

11:00 a.m. – Hmm. There was some indication of box lunch outside. It would be easier to just get that, but Neomonde is so close, and would be so much better. Is Neomonde open? It didn’t look open when I drove by on the way here.

11:25 a.m. – Ooh, he said sports data. You know, I think there’s a Spring Training game televised today. Stupid Japan game. They can’t start the season overseas. It’s America’s game!

11:26 a.m. – ET utters the words that will make me question everything else he says: “If the people who read the sports section can understand a chart, then anyone can.” I don’t think I like what he’s implying. Hmph.

11:30 a.m. – This place is a ballroom? Do people actually use it as such? It’s awful, industrial, bad paint job, hey, there’s a splotch of paint missing on that pillar. Whoa, there’s a temporary wall partition they can use. C L A S S Y. And just look at that switchplate…

11:31 a.m. – Crap. Lunch isn’t until 1.

11:35 a.m.-11:57 a.m. – Break. Overheard in coffee line, “What is this line for? Where are the informative graphics?” Only free stuff provided at course is water, coffee, tea, crackers and chocolaty-chip cookies. Return to find unwelcome neighbor standing behind MY chair, swaying.

12:10 p.m. – Maybe I could change my Flickr page so that it is just favorites, since I am too cheap to actually pay for a subscription.

12:13 p.m. – Consider perils of visiting ATM in Durham after course is over.

12:35 p.m. – ET’s minion brings around his 400-year-old copy of Euclidean geometry book. Notice that when ET displayed book, he held it in his hands; however minion has on white gloves.

12:45 p.m. – FOOD FOOD FOOD FOOD FOOD

12:57 p.m. – Minion is back, this time with book by Galileo, from 1613.

1:04 p.m. – Decide on title for next installment of autobiographical novel: “Molly’s Last Adventures as a Single Girl”

1:20 p.m. – Finally, lunch! Box lunch at course contains barbecue and banana pudding for $8. Box lunch at Neomonde consists of hoummous sandwich, tabbouleh and fatoush with a piece of baklava for $8. Much better. Coming back, notice that sign in parking lot reads, “Lot Full – Use Adjacent Lots.” Just not the adjacent lots across the street, huh.

2:23 p.m. – Lunch runs long as ET is signing autographs. Unwelcome neighbor and her neighbor are having discussion on diving. Text message Nancy and Sarah.

3:06 p.m. – Notice unwelcome neighbor has folder labeled “Latino Communications.”

3:15 p.m. – ET announces, “If you parked in the street, please move. The police are in the process of shooting your car.”

3:20 p.m. – ET announces, “Now the fire marshal is here. Some of you were very creative with your parking. Stay tuned.” He probably means the people who blocked others in. C L A S S Y.

3:23 p.m. – Distracted by baseball sparklines, looking ahead in book.

3:29 p.m. – Distracted by sparkliness of my new wedding band.

3:40 p.m. – Bored now.

3:41 p.m. – Wonder if could gather books quietly and sneak out, thus avoiding sure-to-be-horrible traffic at end of course.

3:49 p.m. – Ooh, the windows in that engraving look like cinnamon rolls!

3:58 p.m. – ET announces, “If you are the driver of the Saturn Vue, license plate number xxx-xxxx, please move your car – you’re blocking someone.”

4:22 p.m. – Natives are VERY restless. Leaving early would be rude, but, damn, parking!

4:24 p.m. – ET says, “The best advice I ever received on making a presentation was to arrive early. The second best was to finish early.” But … we only have six minutes left and he’s not done talking?

4:29 p.m. – ET finishes early, barely.

4:37 p.m. – In car. Parking lot is nightmare. Traffic nearing rush hour is nightmare.

5:39 p.m. – Arrive back home in east bumfuck. Have put 71 miles on car. Do you know how much gas costs?  


Posted by Molly at 4:51 PM EDT
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