What a wonderfully small and exciting little e-world we live in. Erica was in town this weekend and crashed with K-dogg (I've decided to start spelling it with 2 g's on the end to further intensify the hip-hop rebellion aspect, yo.) and I on Saturday night. She hung around the bar until 4:15 while we were closing, then stayed up talking with me until 6:30 am. We traded Tech war stories, talked about family and blogging, compared lists of people we knew in common, even gossiped about someone and somene else, all goodnatured stuff. It was great to meet her, REALLY meet her in person. We met casually in person at 20X2, we've talked online a lot lately, but it was really great to have some personal contact with her, to really get to know her better. She rocks, check out her mojo here. Also, I blasted somebody today, in full SpaceGhost style, check it out over there.

Today, I feel lucky.

I'm not heading off to Vegas or anything. I started feeling lucky today when I went to stand in line to take care fo three tickets I recently received. I got a ticket for expired inspection, expired license tags, and not having an up to date insurance card. These problem were easily fixed well within the ten day time frame, and I was off to court with my paperwork, anticipating a long line at the end of which I would likely meet a surly civil servant who would tell me that somehow I had done something wrong and was not only going to have to pay several thousand dollars worth of fines but do a little time in jail. (I have a paranoid fear of going back to jail. I honestly have nightmares.)

Whe I walked in the door, I was face to face with The New World Order.

A metal detector. Two armed guards. I flashed to what Billy had written recently about terrorists blowing up St. Charles. I remember being a little miffed that he had refered to terrorism as a "profession", and that I had gotten over it in only a matter of seconds. I was also feeling momentarily miffed that I had to go through all this trouble just to pay some court costs. After I walked through the thing though, like magic, I changed my mind. As I was putting my thumb ring back on, I thought to myelf, "Self, in some places in the world, women can't walk the streets uncovered, Religious rules are observed on pain of death wthout any personal choice to worship as one sees fit, people are killing each other senselessly for the same idiotic reasons that have kept their homes a Texas Cage Match with guns for thousands of years, but right here, right now, My biggest concern is an expired inspection sticker and I get to WEAR A THUMB RING."

My tickets were dismissed. I have a date tonight, and were going to see Halle Berry win her Oscar. I may not feel as good as Halle did abot winning it, but I'm glad I live in a place where she can. I feel really lucky.

March Madness is over, and I am little bummed.

K-Dog wrote recently, "To be a sports fan is to come to terms with loss." I was walking around barefoot in the back yard, and thinking of stadiums full of people and thinking of a guy I never got to see play who used to do the same thing in left field, just walk barefoot in the grass and smell it. I intended to revel in spring and warmer weather, but I was thinking of something more specific.

I was thinking about baseball and about basketball. Night and day, right?

Yesterday was opening day, and I was stuck in an office. Just try and stop me from turning on the game, I dare ya. Thankfully no one did, my boss is a baseball fan too. I marvel at cretins who think baseball is "boring" or "too slow". I equate them with people who think chess is "like checkers but with taller pieces." Kevin and I love baseball, it's the reason we got cable.

That said, I was thinking about baseball, and the passing of March into April. I was bucking myself up with it, and the thought of the impending Quest for Lord Stanley's Cup. (Warning: Rabid Hockey fan here) Then, I clicked over to tornadomagnet, and read Kevin's take on being a sports fan. Sports is about losing as much as it is winning, and I know the let down must be worse for the players. I try to think of how great it must feel to hit a homer on Opening Day, of the Astros opening in the park that finally bears their name and not a sponsor's, of skipping school on a Monday to be at opening day, of Hot dogs and beer and the sun on your face and grass as far as white chalk foul line can see.

But, in the back of my head I was also thinking about a handful of good kids. Of a handful of Indiana kids whose season is over. Seniors who won't get to play for their schools anymore, even among the winners. Kids who watched the tourney from home, kids whose hopes and dreams had been far above the rim. So for kids like Jeffries and Fife, like Jason Williams and Juan Dixon, like my own Texas Tech Red Raiders, I hope they can do what I did.

Watch a baseball game, guys. You all earned it.