My bad.

So, I was rather touched to know my MIA status was noticed and commented upon. Mad props to those who gave me crap for not blogging. Basically I've been busy and here's a brief re-cap of my life since vacation. I've been working crazy hours because I'm training some people and can no longer blog during my lunch hour (the Man keeps tightening his grip), I'm having a great time hanging out with friends, and am still trying to get the movie project off the ground. More exciting is that I had a revelation of sorts last week while talking to Jackson and will most likely be either going in a different direction in general or pursuing something different at the same time. A blog must be devoted to this, so I will (Yes, I will) do a post about that this week. In the meantime, here's a humorous quip from an email I sent to a friend today to tide you over. Some of you might relate...

At the age of 7, I began my illustrious baseball career by joining the prestigious cap league of Spencer, Iowa. Needless to say,the Lamplighter Motel baseball franchise was ecstatic to have a 2nd grader of my stature recruited to the team...OK, "assigned" is more accurate since teams were determined by neighborhood/geographic divisions. At a whopping 4 feet tall, weighing in at about 40 pounds, I was a force to be reckoned with. My father affectionately referred tome as "2-D" as I was not of sufficient weight to be on the 3 dimensional plane of existence. Oh, and if you think I have a fro now, you should see pictures of the 7 year old version of Craigeroo. At our first practice (during which I sported a pair of brown corduroys that I'm certain invoked severe jealousy among my teammates), my knowledge of baseball was not only showcased, but cemented for the year--nay, a lifetime. We had to pick our numbers for the fashionable Lamplighter Motel cap league shirts and, of course, the big time 4th graders got to pick their numbers first. Most of the 2nd graders were dismayed as all of the "good" numbers would be taken (#1, #2, etc.), and all were afraid they would be stuck with the cursed goose egg...well, all except Craigeroo. I quickly scribbled down my number of choice and handed it to coach Hart. After a quick double take and a knowing smirk, he nodded and put down #63 for star right fielder Craig Luttrell. To this day, the#63 remains close to my heart.