Warming Up as it's Cooling Off....
Aug. 24th, 2019 04:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
captainsblogFall's around the corner. You've felt it the past few mornings- or rather, I haven't felt the oppressive heat from getting in my car after it's been sitting out all day. There's a hint of crisp, there are football games being played, meaningless though they may be, and there's one more week and weekend until Labor Day, which traditionally marks the end of Summer As We Know It.
Between 9 this past Monday morning and 6 on Thursday evening, I was busier than all get-out. Three hearings on the morning of the 19th and a faraway fourth at day's end graciously postponed without me having to go. Tuesday, another three, but in three different courts between 8 a.m. and 7 p.m. and almost 100 miles put on the car without leaving the county. Only one brief one Wednesday, and an even briefer one Thursday, but the latter was in Rochester and had client meetings packed around it and I didn't get home until 6. Fortunately, I kept yesterday free- I'd thought of signing up for a seminar to use my comp pass from teaching, but put that off for an equally boring one in November, when it won't be nearly as nice out as it was yesterday- as we shall see.
The animals had none of this stress. Zoey responded to my tossing my suitjacket off, as soon as I came in the door Monday, with her usual approach-
-If I fits, I sits....
and Pepper had none of my pre-7 a.m. grumpiness on walkies the next morning, as she'd made herself a new fren-
While Wednesday was the easiest workday for me with actual workclothes on, it also had its aggravating moments; taking a deposit to the bank, I got behind a guy at the fancy new ATM which accepts cash, only it wouldn't accept his wadded up bills. It kept spitting them back to him and he kept shoving them right back in. After about the fifth go-round, I pulled around into the staffed lane next to it, scribbled a deposit slip, and told the teller (that's what they're called tellers for, I guess) that he was having issues with the machine. He must have sensed my annoyance, because he sent this back with my receipt:
(Unless he was trying to tell me that I was the dum-dum sucker;)
Fortunately, Friday got here just in time, again a relatively quiet day in terms of people responding to me. I set out to update plans for next week's voyage, and to help get me in a baseballier mood for the main event, I arranged to meet a friend for last night's Bisons game in downtown Buffalo, the first (and last) time I would make it to that storied stadium this year.
----
First, the plans:
I leave here crack-early on the morning of Tuesday the 27th, but I will not get out of Western New York until well past 10. That's because I have two clients who got Rochester court hearings adjourned to 9:30 that morning. One will go quickly; the other, well, let's just say it ate my brain last month and I fully expect another heaping helping of neurons to be on the menu, despite my trying valiantly over the past few weeks to get everything revised, signed and submitted in full and on time. Assuming I do not kill nor be killed at that, I will make a pit stop at my office there just long enough to change into baseball clothes and will make it to Queens in a straight shot that, on a good day, takes just around six hours. "On a good day" is highly optimistic, and I will likely wind up emailing the other tickets to the group before I leave, because with the Mets doing and drawing better these days and those six hours running smack into evening rush, who knows when I will actually get there for a 7:00 first pitch.
There's also the weather. This was the first preview of what they thought next week would look like:
Well, they were right about that first Thursday, two nights ago; the game got halted with the Mets up 2-0 in the sixth inning, and after an interminable rain delay, they finally called it short at that after midnight. (Last night's Met game was almost as long in better weather, just due to lack of hitting by either team and an extended tie game- as we also shall see.) Fortunately, by the next day, the forecast for that subsequent Tuesday cleared up, and has stayed that way:
(They are calling for some heavy weather closer to here on the 27th, though, which might slow me down.)
Last night's pre-game game came about somewhat strangely: Cornell began sending me emails a while back about their local alumni club's outings. I've passed on joining them for faculty visits, winery stops and a reserved section at Shakespeare in Delaware Park. But they announced a Bisons game event for last night, and while it took some arguing with an alumni rep in Ithaca to get into the group because of a supposedly missed deadline (no it wasn't) (yes it was), I finally got the confirming email for two seats, and further confirmed that my usual baseball bud Scott would be coming in from the 585 to sit in the other one.
And what seats!
We were closer to more foul balls than ever, while still not catching any behind that screen. Other than handing me the two tickets and taking my money for them, this alumni group was remarkably un-rah rah. There were a couple of quick introductions, but other than that hardly anybody spoke to anyone they didn't sit next to for the entire game. (This is not a complaint; I find so much of college alumni bonding to be so much BS.) We were also on our own for whatever food and drink we wanted to find. For me, at this place, it's become just one tradition-
La poutine! This oop north delicacy arrived when the Bisons affiliated with Toronto, even though it's much more of a Quebecois thing. (That's Scott above it, with the more traditional Sahlen hot.) And to wash it down? I started with a Great Lakes golden ale, not finding any of their Edmund Fitzgerald from last week's entry; maybe the truck got in a wreck;) But some guys from the group had found cans of the true local delicacy in this department:
A local craft brewery began making this IPA last year as a tribute to Conehead, famed local beer vendor at all the available indoor and outdoor venues from ROC to BUF. I'd tried finding it at other places and at Resurgence, but never managed to- but Tom (so famous now we know his real name) keeps a stash of it on hand as he works the aisles:
I had to wait for him to card a few kids claiming his other brews; being an aged coot like me, he now uses a magnifying glass to check their birthdates (and no, he didn't bother to check mine). He'd have even autographed the can after it was empty, but alas I waited too long past the sixth inning end of serving hours. Next time I'll have to consume fewer or faster quantities.
The Bisons are sort-of in the minor league pennant chase, the first time in ages they've been even remotely close this late in the year. In the previous series in Rochester, they no-hit the Red Wings one night and then gave up 20 runs to their alter egos the Garbage Plates two nights later. Last night's, against a noncontending and lame duck Pawtucket team, was close most of the night, but we didn't win and it's a shame:(
I also saw a play I'd never seen before and still don't quite understand: a Buffalo batter struck out, but the ball got away from the catcher. I did know that this entitled the hitter to run to first to get on base despite striking out. What I didn't know is, if the catcher then muffs the throw and it falls in foul territory, the play is dead and the batter gets a second life. Or at least I THINK that's what happened; I've checked the rather arcane rules about U3K (uncaught third strikes), and while they're not QUITE as bad as the ones for the blue lines in hockey, I'm not entirely convinced that the umpire didn't just make the whole thing up.
For the final few innings, I multitasked between watching the Bisons' comelack and listening to the Mets on the radio. As we walked into the stadium, I mentioned to Scott that the evening's pitcher for the Mets in Queens, Jacob deGrom, has had a history of stellar pitching matched with crappy run support from his teammates, and that often the only way he can score a run is if he drives it in himself.
Well. While we weren't watching, he went and did just that:
(Sorry about the eyestrain from those awful uniforms. They'll be back out of their long johns by the time we get there Tuesday.)
That tied the Mets at 1-1- where it remained for my whole ride home, and probably Scott's even longer one. It mercifully ended in the 14th, just after I'd finally given up on trying to stay up to a second bitter end. But the Mets are still doing much better than they were two months ago, and the Not Quite That Good Citi Field Seats I picked up CHEEP back in early July are much pricier now.
Weather permitting, that will be Tuesday night. I will spend Wednes-day exploring in City and on Island, catching an old friend in concert in Manhattan that night, and then making the journey home, with more time to stop in area codes in-between, on Thursday the 29th. Hopefully my desk will not then resemble a war zone.
Between 9 this past Monday morning and 6 on Thursday evening, I was busier than all get-out. Three hearings on the morning of the 19th and a faraway fourth at day's end graciously postponed without me having to go. Tuesday, another three, but in three different courts between 8 a.m. and 7 p.m. and almost 100 miles put on the car without leaving the county. Only one brief one Wednesday, and an even briefer one Thursday, but the latter was in Rochester and had client meetings packed around it and I didn't get home until 6. Fortunately, I kept yesterday free- I'd thought of signing up for a seminar to use my comp pass from teaching, but put that off for an equally boring one in November, when it won't be nearly as nice out as it was yesterday- as we shall see.
The animals had none of this stress. Zoey responded to my tossing my suitjacket off, as soon as I came in the door Monday, with her usual approach-
-If I fits, I sits....
and Pepper had none of my pre-7 a.m. grumpiness on walkies the next morning, as she'd made herself a new fren-
While Wednesday was the easiest workday for me with actual workclothes on, it also had its aggravating moments; taking a deposit to the bank, I got behind a guy at the fancy new ATM which accepts cash, only it wouldn't accept his wadded up bills. It kept spitting them back to him and he kept shoving them right back in. After about the fifth go-round, I pulled around into the staffed lane next to it, scribbled a deposit slip, and told the teller (that's what they're called tellers for, I guess) that he was having issues with the machine. He must have sensed my annoyance, because he sent this back with my receipt:
(Unless he was trying to tell me that I was the dum-dum sucker;)
Fortunately, Friday got here just in time, again a relatively quiet day in terms of people responding to me. I set out to update plans for next week's voyage, and to help get me in a baseballier mood for the main event, I arranged to meet a friend for last night's Bisons game in downtown Buffalo, the first (and last) time I would make it to that storied stadium this year.
----
First, the plans:
I leave here crack-early on the morning of Tuesday the 27th, but I will not get out of Western New York until well past 10. That's because I have two clients who got Rochester court hearings adjourned to 9:30 that morning. One will go quickly; the other, well, let's just say it ate my brain last month and I fully expect another heaping helping of neurons to be on the menu, despite my trying valiantly over the past few weeks to get everything revised, signed and submitted in full and on time. Assuming I do not kill nor be killed at that, I will make a pit stop at my office there just long enough to change into baseball clothes and will make it to Queens in a straight shot that, on a good day, takes just around six hours. "On a good day" is highly optimistic, and I will likely wind up emailing the other tickets to the group before I leave, because with the Mets doing and drawing better these days and those six hours running smack into evening rush, who knows when I will actually get there for a 7:00 first pitch.
There's also the weather. This was the first preview of what they thought next week would look like:
Well, they were right about that first Thursday, two nights ago; the game got halted with the Mets up 2-0 in the sixth inning, and after an interminable rain delay, they finally called it short at that after midnight. (Last night's Met game was almost as long in better weather, just due to lack of hitting by either team and an extended tie game- as we also shall see.) Fortunately, by the next day, the forecast for that subsequent Tuesday cleared up, and has stayed that way:
(They are calling for some heavy weather closer to here on the 27th, though, which might slow me down.)
Last night's pre-game game came about somewhat strangely: Cornell began sending me emails a while back about their local alumni club's outings. I've passed on joining them for faculty visits, winery stops and a reserved section at Shakespeare in Delaware Park. But they announced a Bisons game event for last night, and while it took some arguing with an alumni rep in Ithaca to get into the group because of a supposedly missed deadline (no it wasn't) (yes it was), I finally got the confirming email for two seats, and further confirmed that my usual baseball bud Scott would be coming in from the 585 to sit in the other one.
And what seats!
We were closer to more foul balls than ever, while still not catching any behind that screen. Other than handing me the two tickets and taking my money for them, this alumni group was remarkably un-rah rah. There were a couple of quick introductions, but other than that hardly anybody spoke to anyone they didn't sit next to for the entire game. (This is not a complaint; I find so much of college alumni bonding to be so much BS.) We were also on our own for whatever food and drink we wanted to find. For me, at this place, it's become just one tradition-
La poutine! This oop north delicacy arrived when the Bisons affiliated with Toronto, even though it's much more of a Quebecois thing. (That's Scott above it, with the more traditional Sahlen hot.) And to wash it down? I started with a Great Lakes golden ale, not finding any of their Edmund Fitzgerald from last week's entry; maybe the truck got in a wreck;) But some guys from the group had found cans of the true local delicacy in this department:
A local craft brewery began making this IPA last year as a tribute to Conehead, famed local beer vendor at all the available indoor and outdoor venues from ROC to BUF. I'd tried finding it at other places and at Resurgence, but never managed to- but Tom (so famous now we know his real name) keeps a stash of it on hand as he works the aisles:
I had to wait for him to card a few kids claiming his other brews; being an aged coot like me, he now uses a magnifying glass to check their birthdates (and no, he didn't bother to check mine). He'd have even autographed the can after it was empty, but alas I waited too long past the sixth inning end of serving hours. Next time I'll have to consume fewer or faster quantities.
The Bisons are sort-of in the minor league pennant chase, the first time in ages they've been even remotely close this late in the year. In the previous series in Rochester, they no-hit the Red Wings one night and then gave up 20 runs to their alter egos the Garbage Plates two nights later. Last night's, against a noncontending and lame duck Pawtucket team, was close most of the night, but we didn't win and it's a shame:(
I also saw a play I'd never seen before and still don't quite understand: a Buffalo batter struck out, but the ball got away from the catcher. I did know that this entitled the hitter to run to first to get on base despite striking out. What I didn't know is, if the catcher then muffs the throw and it falls in foul territory, the play is dead and the batter gets a second life. Or at least I THINK that's what happened; I've checked the rather arcane rules about U3K (uncaught third strikes), and while they're not QUITE as bad as the ones for the blue lines in hockey, I'm not entirely convinced that the umpire didn't just make the whole thing up.
For the final few innings, I multitasked between watching the Bisons' comelack and listening to the Mets on the radio. As we walked into the stadium, I mentioned to Scott that the evening's pitcher for the Mets in Queens, Jacob deGrom, has had a history of stellar pitching matched with crappy run support from his teammates, and that often the only way he can score a run is if he drives it in himself.
Well. While we weren't watching, he went and did just that:
(Sorry about the eyestrain from those awful uniforms. They'll be back out of their long johns by the time we get there Tuesday.)
That tied the Mets at 1-1- where it remained for my whole ride home, and probably Scott's even longer one. It mercifully ended in the 14th, just after I'd finally given up on trying to stay up to a second bitter end. But the Mets are still doing much better than they were two months ago, and the Not Quite That Good Citi Field Seats I picked up CHEEP back in early July are much pricier now.
Weather permitting, that will be Tuesday night. I will spend Wednes-day exploring in City and on Island, catching an old friend in concert in Manhattan that night, and then making the journey home, with more time to stop in area codes in-between, on Thursday the 29th. Hopefully my desk will not then resemble a war zone.
no subject
Date: 2019-08-28 01:37 am (UTC)