MLB Predictions

National League
East
Philadelphia
Washington
NY Mets
Atlanta
Miami

Central
Chicago
St. Louis
Milwaukee
Cincinnati
Pittsburgh

West
Los Angeles
San Francisco
Colorado
San Diego
Arizona

American League
East
NY Yankees
Boston
Tampa Bay
Toronto
Baltimore

Central
Cleveland
Kansas City
Chicago
Minnesota
Detroit

West
Houston
Anaheim
Oakland
Seattle
Texas


AL MVP
Aaron Judge

NL MVP
Kris Bryant

AL Cy Young
Chris Sale

NL CY Young
Max Scherzer

NLCS 
Chicago over Los Angeles

ALCS
NY Yankees over Houston

World Series
NY Yankees over Chicago

I realize now

I'm resentful of romantic love. I know it's necessary in the world. I know it's needed. But I hate two things. One, I hate that it's eluded me all these years. Two, I hate how misused the word is.

I thought I was better at dealing with other people finding love. But I fear it's getting worse. I've just gotten more cynical and bitter that I haven't found love. As I attended the funeral for my grandfather this past Monday, it scared me that the were only three relatives: myself, my mom, and her sister. He had no siblings. His wife is gone. Linda's daughter certainly wasn't going to be invited. Although I have not had a burning desire to be a father, I confess I'm scared of my family not surviving. I have no siblings. I have two cousins. One of whom I never talk to and I don't know how to get in contact with her. The other I just alluded to. If I don't keep a lineage going, have I failed my grandparents and great grandparents? I'm proud of my heritage. I don't want it to die with me. And then again, I'm scared of raising kids in such a sinful broken world. I want to leave a legacy of honor and respect. Can I do that if I die without ever getting married or becoming a father?

Trip for my Grandfather, part 2

I had set the alarm to go off at 5:45 the next morning. Well I guess mom was already up, she knew I had to run that morning and that we wanted to leave the hotel by 8. So I consumed my pre workout drink, which I had already prepared the night before. As I was getting dressed, the alarm went off. But there was something different about this alarm. It wasn't the radio. It wasn't a buzzer. It was a church bell. The type with that familiar rhythm that ends with the loud chime. One chime for every hour. And I recall when I was a boy, my grandfather kept a clock on the wall that would go off with that same sound every hour. It woke me up dozens of times. I swear my grandfather had one last joke to play.

So it was off to the chlorine gym. I covered 6.5 miles in 50 minutes, definitely good progress. A sweaty mess, I went to the lobby to grab breakfast, which was alright. The turkey sausage wasn't great, it could've been seared better. The cheese omelets were fine, at least they tasted like actual eggs.

After a shower, I put on my suit and we drove a half hour south to pick up Linda and drive to Byles Funeral Home in New London. My grandfather had conducted dozens of funerals in this home. Now it was his turn. When my turn came to speak, I told the alarm story and prayed the prayer, which I've posted previously. The pastor did a great job. One of the things I remember is when he was talking about thinking of a word that defined my grandfather and then applying that to our own lives. I heard words such as positive and resilient. Mine was servanthood. There were maybe 40 people and I was the youngest by probably 15 years.

We had our luncheon at Filomena's, the same place where the tribute had been for my grandmother 19 months earlier. There were not as many people, maybe because it was during the week, maybe it was the weather. But it was a nice simple occasion, the only thing missing were photographs.

Mom and I made quick shopping trip to the Crystal Mall, before we drove over to the Springhill Suites. I have to admit I was ready to get to the hotel and change clothes; I was feeling pretty spent emotionally. I didn't cry during the service, but I got kind of close when we sang "How Great Thou Art."

The room was kept quite clean, management included a bag of mini-shortbread cookies which became my dinner the day I left! The front desk was quite personable. The gym was pretty decent with dumbbells going up to 50 pounds, several TVs and pieces of cardio equipment.

We watched an episode of Dr. Phil before going to dinner at the Engine Room in downtown Mystic. We decided to sit at the chef counter, which provided a great view of the kitchen. It took a few minutes to get a server but Leah was wonderful, very personable and knowledgeable. She let me try two samples of beer, and I'm thankful, because I didn't really care for the $10 amber ale.

We were given a free sample of chicken and waffles. Now I've never been a big fan of this dish, but if they all tasted like this one, I'd eat it every week. Sesame honey hot sauce, maple butter, perfectly crisp skin, moist thigh meat, crunchy waffle. Amazing job.

Now they only have five or so burgers on the menu but on Monday, they have a burger and draft beer special for $15. I got a French onion burger and a German helles lager. Holy crap. The dry aged beef was cooked to between medium rare and medium, pink with a hint of gray and a nice amount of juice coming out, which I let drip all over the fresh cut fries. It came on a soft Martin's potato roll with Swiss cheese, frenched onions, and herb aioli. I couldn't put the burger down; it was gone in about four minutes.

For sides, I had the tangy potato salad which had some fresh herbs and whole grain mustard, which kept it from tasting too creamy.  And the fries were fresh cut, the way God intended. Oh and did I mention the house made pickle spear that wasn't too sweet or sour?

My dessert hormones were kicking in at that moment. I went for the monkey bread with the bourbon caramel sauce on the side. We got a tower of monkey bread inside a super hot mini cast iron skillet. If anything, it could have been cooked a minute less, I wouldn't mind it a little more gooey.

We got our bill, and I have no idea why, but dessert was on the house. We got back to the hotel and mom realized she left her purse behind. Thankfully, they held it for us at the desk.

When mom and I got back to the room, I turned on a Wes Montgomery jazz guitar album and we played a little bit of the 80s and 90s trivia card game that mom had bought me. I did a lot better, she wasn't too into pop culture by the time I was growing up.

The next day... not much to say aside from lifting weights in the gym and getting bumped off two planes out of Providence. I got first class... but no food. Three Jack and gingers.

We got bumped off another flight and we had to settle for flying to Norfolk at 10:45 pm. So now I need to pay for a freaking Uber to get to the Newport News airport. And we couldn't get our luggage, the staff had already left for the night. What a disaster. But it could have been worse. We nearly ended up stuck in the Charlotte airport overnight.

Trip for my Grandfather, part 1

Coming off three hours of sleep and waking up at 4 am, I somehow got a red hot core workout in. From the time I left the apartment to the moment I was sitting at the gate at Newport News airport, maybe 20 minutes had elapsed. It took the crew 30 minutes to de-ice the plane, but I landed in Philly and quickly headed for the Admirals Club. I got some free avocado toast with fruit and OJ. Alcohol was certainly considered, but it seemed a little early. Mom joined me after flying in from Chicago and we flew to Providence, landing 30 minutes early. I had no desire to be in the entire region of New England, especially since Satan had recently given them another sports title. But this was for my grandfather and to pay my respects. It's just that the timing was horrible.

After I collected the luggage, we got our rental car, a Ford Fiesta. Downtown Providence drove have been out of the way, so instead, we drove to downtown Warwick. We ate brunch at the Shanty, I had a good feeling I wanted to go there,  the Yelp reviews looked outstanding. We arrived during brunch hours and that was one packed lot. We had to park our car over at the adjacent pharmacy, which was closed on Sunday. There was a 45 minute wait at 12:30, but thankfully I was able to find two seats at the bar. The Shanty is one small room with a packed rectangular bar in the center and maybe 20 small tables surrounding it.

We started splitting the bacon and Brussels salad. Apple cider vinaigrette, large chunks of seared pork belly, goat cheese, cucumber, tomato, the sprouts were split in half and seared... absolutely fantastic. I then got the chicken sandwich with avocado, bacon, and rosemary aioli on ciabatta. Very very good. Oh and the fresh cut fries were marvelous, though they could have used a little salt. Mom didn't like the taste of the lobster roll, she wasn't sure if it was a different seasoning or the quality of the lobster itself.

There were weird moments during that brunch. Mom rolled her eyes when I turned the Rangers game on through my phone. I later saw a guy in a Rangers hat across the bar, so I kept him in the loop during the first period. Also, there were two girls sitting next to me at the corner of the bar, looked like pals in college. Mom said one was definitely interested in me, but I didn't see it. The girl was from northern Virginia, so I immediately thought.. high maintenance. Not proud of that. I guess I've been screwed around with so hard that I find it hard to imagine I'd be liked by a decent woman.

Mom and I then drove for an hour or so down Route 1 to Uncasville, since we were spending the night at the Fairfield Inn, near the Mohegan Sun. It was a good sized room for two people. The bathroom was on the opposite side of the entrance, an unusual setup, but it worked out pretty well. It had two TVs. And it's nice that the hotel does offer prompt service to and from the Sun, though not until 4pm.

To get to the gym, I had to walk through the indoor pool area. So the chlorine smell got into the gym and it got pretty heated. The result of that was when I was running the next morning, after a while, I had the pool room sweats going. Not the best design. They did have a good amount of free weights and cardio equipment.

Anyway, I spent the late afternoon and evening at Mohegan Sun, probably the best casino in America. Mom and I got off the shuttle, checked our coats, and immediately marched to Frank Pepe's for some real coal fired pizza. We got a medium pizza with shrimp and roasted peppers, which we'd had a few years before and it just hooked us. Awesome as always, especially with a little oregano, pepper, and cheese. We almost finished the whole thing. By the last slice, I was eating just the toppings. My friend Joe arrived up top of the nearby escalator at Carlo's bakery. I had to get some crrumb cake, even though it cost me eight bucks. Oh and over a dollar of that was taxes. Ridiculous.

Anyway, we went to the Landsdowne, the Irish pub, where Joe ordered a turkey sandwich. He bought me a Jameson and ginger ale, probably an attempt to calm my stomach after munching on all those carbs. After a drink, we stopped at the Wolf Den, where singer/songwriter 

Elise Davis was performing a free concert. Just her on guitar, along with a three piece band on bass, drums, and steel guitar. Can't have enough steel.

Joe made a Krispy Kreme stop and left to drive back home. So I was on my own. By this point, I was basically spent. Think about it. I had up since 4 am, and I wasn't feeling hungry, I had no desire to gamble, I wasn't feeling focused or concentrated enough. After a little window shopping at Yankee Candle, I stopped at Comix roadhouse for some live music and a couple of drinks. It was two guys on guitar, playing country and rock, and that was fine with me.

I drank a John Daly, followed by a Cold Snap beer. But I could feel the isolation set in. The people around me were getting loud and that just wasn't what I was in the mood for. Plus at the table behind me, there was some 50 year old prick flirting at a table of three young women. He could have been some random drunk, he could have been their sugar daddy, I don't freaking know. I couldn't be around it. I needed to relax and just feel melancholy. The energy in the room wasn't fitting me. Part of me wanted a cheeseburger at Bobby Flays, but I just couldn't do it. Physically or mentally. I left the property at 10:30 and stepped out into the snowy night, before boarding the shuttle to take me back to the hotel.

Trip for my Grandfather, my prayer

Heavenly father, we gather today in a state of sorrow and in a state of mourning.

We are grieving the loss of a pastor, a veteran, a counselor, a friend, a father, and a grandfather.

Indeed we will miss Robert Bartlett's one of a kind presence in our lives.

We will miss his wisdom, his humor, his leadership, and his longing to serve his fellow man and serve you.

While we mourn, while we hurt, we also appreciate and celebrate a life well lived.
No question, he served you in his ministry and in his life loyally and faithfully.

So many lives he has impacted, those of us gathered today represent just a small fraction.

Lord, in your word we remember it says We were buried with you into death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life.

And so we can know that a new life, one of glory and eternal joy, has now begun for Robert Bartlett

Your word also says For if we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord. So then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s.

During his life, he walked with you for so many years, so many decades. And so we choose even in the midst of sorrow, to rejoice that on this day, he is walking with you, his heavenly father, closer than ever before. And we are comforted in knowing that he is yours, and he has his place in heaven with you today and forever.

And so Lord, we thank you for creating a special man

Thank you for this chance to honor him today.

Thank you for everyone present in this room.

In your gracious name we pray together. Amen

Yelp-Review of the Day-Zoe's Kitchen

Wow, fantastic place. Sure the prices aren't cheap, but you get quality on what you pay for. I got the steak kabobs with grilled potato salad and roasted vegetables. The steak was well charred, juicy on the inside, and it tasted great dipped in the garlicky Italian salsa verde. The potato salad had no mayo in it, but plenty of red wine vinaigrette, I liked the crust on the outside from the flat top grill. I only wish I had more of it. The roasted veggies are nothing short of fantastic. Zucchini, red onion, bell peppers, cherry tomatoes. Crisp-tender, well seasoned. These are what roasted veggies are supposed to taste like.

Yes they have some options that are pretty pricey, but there are reasonable options as well. My total with a drink was about 13 or 14 bucks. I don't mind paying an extra couple of dollars as long as as my portion size and food quality are satisfactory and this meal took care of both those interests. I can eat a lot, but even I had to take about half of the veggies home, they gave me a ton of them.

The food did take a little time to prepare, maybe 10 minutes, but I'm fine with that because that's a sign that food is being made fresh for the customer. I live across the street and it's a safe bet I will be back for more.

Plasma Donation

Oh my goodness, what did I just go through? I have donated plasma several times in the past, usually for a tshirt or a bright red drawstring bag, which I probably never used again. But this was the first time I had ever donated it for money. I expected a 2 hour procedure, well, little did I know how long it would take and how much I would be going through.

I arrived at the office in the Denbigh section of northern Newport News right around 8:40 in the morning and there were probably already 15 people sitting in the waiting room. I waited 40 minutes because the staff can only see one new patient every 20 minutes and two people were ahead of me in line. As requested, I submitted my driver's license and social security card, and waited to be called. Well, around 9:10, they gave me a binder of written material about the donation process to read, maybe 15 pages, but nothing radically different from what I've seen in previous donation centers. Then there was a video on a tablet that took nine minutes to watch

.

From there, I was called over to a side booth where a nurse began the procedure. After I stated my name and the last 4 numbers of my SSN, they took my temperature and then checked my blood pressure, and even took a fingerprint from both my index fingers. If that wasn't enough, they pricked my middle finger and checked it for protein levels and another factor I can't remember. Thankfully, I tested within the required levels, was asked again to state my name and the last 4 numbers of my SSN, and I then moved on to the next step.

The donating room was located in the back of the building, behind a locked door. It seemed like the goal was just to get into the room and each test I took was just one more step towards everything that room. But back to the screening. I then had to answer 65 questions on a kiosk about my lifestyle and medical history, none of which were going to be a problem on my end. Can't say I have heart issues, spent a decade in Europe, gotten a tattoo or piercing, or exchanged money for sex. I answered the questions and then had to give my fingerprint verification to enter my answers. Back to the chairs for waiting.

Five minutes later, it was onto the urine test. Yes, I had to piss in a cup in order to donate blood. I did my business, the result got examined, and I passed again. Onto the exam office, where I verified my name and my full SSN, this time.

The nurse then read out loud nine pages about the donation process that I had already gone through in the written binder at the beginning of my time in the office.  There was even a section about me risking death by donating. That was reassuring.

Then came the written test. Yes, that's right, a freaking written test just to have a needle stuck in my arm for an hour. 10 questions, I had two chances to get 80% correct. Well, I aced that sucker on my first attempt. Time to donate? Not quite. Onto the physical. Yep, a real physical. They aimed the flashlight into my eyes, ears, and nose. They hammered my knees, made sure I could move my neck up and down and then side to side,  examined my heart and lungs, and had me stick my tongue out and say "Ahh". Basically everything but making me turn my head and cough. I swear, I was waiting for a criminal background investigation and credit score check.

Before and after the physical, they checked my arms and elbows, I guess for track marks or scarring. I'm not sure why two checks instead of just one were needed, but whatever.

And finally, since I passed the physical, it was time for the donation room. Well, I had to sit another five minutes before actually getting called. I got hooked up to the machine, and was asked AGAIN to state my name and the last 4 numbers of my SSN. I swear they wanted me to fail. Despite not having a ton of water in my system, it probably took me 4 cycles of drawing the blood and returning the red blood back into me to complete the process.

Timewise, the donation procedure took a little over an hour. But the whole process took about 3 and a half hours, pretty ridiculous. I have to return again within a week to make another donation because without the second donation, nothing can be done with my first round of plasma.

I got paid $50 on a reloadable debit card. Basically every donation pays between 25 and 50 bucks depending on what number the file is making that month. When I told Mom about it, she said it made her sick. I asked her if it was over the needle, since that's what turns most people off from donating their blood. But that wasn't the reason she gave me. She said that she thinks I'm just hurting for money and I'm scrambling to get by. I had to explain to her that it wasn't the point. I'm not on welfare, thank you Jesus. Here's the deal. I have made the decision to pay off this student loan and get out of debt within this year. I am not above hustling and coming up with creative ways to make money in order to make that happen. It's a whole lot better then being bored and not having anything to do.

And here's the comparison that puts it in perspective. Later that night, I had three tables in my section at the restaurant and only made $41. That's 6 hours of work on my feet and I made the equivalent of freaking minimum wage.

One month in

1) I was just thinking about how it's the last year of the 2010's. I wonder what these recent decades will be remembered for. The 1970's have a feel about them, the 80's definitely have a feel about them, the 90's are starting to, with sporting events holding 90's themed events. But when we think of the 2000s or the 2010s, what's the distinctive style or art or cultural moments? What are the things that makes these times unique, memorable, or special? It doesn't seem as though there are too many of them.

2) Costco rotisserie chickens are maybe the best buy ever for $4.99. I can get four servings out of them. Or if i'm depressed... two servings.

3) I seriously want to get on airplane and start travelling again. At least when it's not for funerals. That might take until May.

4) Can baseball get here already. And then 2 months in, I'll be begging for my next sports heartache.

5) Fuck the New England Patriots and anyone evil enough to support them.