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The ladies over at Smart Bitches Who Love Trashy Books and Dear Author offer up a special treat for me today; the DA BWAHA Tournament, a March Madness bracket-type contest for the romance lover/sports fan in all of us.  Details can be found at either of the sites.

Basketball isn’t my sport, baseball is what does it for me–with a little football thrown in during the off-season–but while I wait for the official start of baseball season and agonize over the fact that my team will be winging their way to Japan today–I’m one of those who believes if God had meant for us to fly, he would’ve given us wings–I can entertain myself and keep my mind off of plane crashes, thanks to the creativeness of the Smart Bitches and Dear Author.

Wow!  That was some run-on sentence, wasn’t it?  Deep breath…

The thing is…who knew there were so many sports fans out there in Romance Land?  I mean, I’ve caught mention of sports–mainly football or soccer–several times on the romance blogs I frequent, but, this just blew me away!  If you look at the bracket set-up, it’s obvious SB and DA put a lot of thought into this thing.  It’s awesome and should be loads of fun as we wait not so patiently for baseball season to start.

Check it out–before seven pm, EST today.  Sorry for the short notice, I’ve been AWOL for the last couple of days working on the blurb for the back cover of Snow Shadows–less than five months till the release!–and excerpts from a couple of my upcoming books which Lisa and Linda at L&L Dreamspell generously offered to add to the back pages–woo-hoo!

To the Red Sox–safe trip!

Update:  Deadline for bracket entries has been extended to midnight EST!  Details and everything you ever needed to know about DB BWAHA here.  Go on, click on it!   

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In case you haven’t heard, the Red Sox swept the World Series right out from under a red-hot Colorado Rockies team.  Everyone, including Fox Sports, okay, most of all Fox Sports, had an ongoing love affair with the Rockies and were pulling for them to win.  Oops!  My boys and all the members of Red Sox Nation–of which I am a member–had something different in mind.  And all I’ve got to say is “how sweet it is!”

I know it’s cliche, but I can’t think of a better way to tell you how good this feels.  Sure, we won in 2004, and a lot of people–especially Yankees fans–claimed it was just a “fluke.”  We “got lucky” they said and “enjoy it because it’ll be another 86 years before it happens again.”  Yeah, right.

Last night as I watched my boys celebrate on Coors Field, I started wondering what they’re going to say now.  I didn’t have long to wait.  The Yankee fans who are usually so vocal on the AOL MLB FanHouse blogs have been unusually quiet this post season, but it didn’t take long for the Cleveland Indians fans and the Colorado Rockies fans to pop up and start saying Boston had “bought” the World Series by paying outrageous amounts of money to their players.

Bad sportsmanship.  Sore losers.  Sour grapes.  Whatever you want to call it, that’s all it is.  I don’t want to hear it because they obviously didn’t watch the same World Series I watched.  Our veterans and higher paid players are great, sure, and they might, just might, have been able to pull this off by themselves, but the guys who really stepped up to the plate and won the games for us this year are the rookies.  Dustin Pedroia, Hideki Okajima, Daisuke Matsuzaka, and Jacoby Ellsbury–who isn’t even considered a rookie yet.  The list goes on and on, and though he’s not a rookie any  more, you can’t forget Jonathan Papelbon.  Those are the guys who carried us to the pinnacle.  I don’t want to take anything away from our veteran players, but damn!  Those young players, some of which don’t even look old enough to have a driver’s license, have been just flat-out unbelievable!

So, talk all you want about Boston “buying” the World Series.  I–and I think it’s safe to say–the rest of Red Sox Nation aren’t listening.

We’re the champions this year.  Deal with it.  Take your little white flags home and use them for crying towels.  They may as well be put to good use, because they certainly didn’t help your teams in the playoffs or the World Series.  And to the Fox sports announcers, your love affair with the Rockies is doomed.  I don’t think those guys are going to want to have anything to do with you after the way you jinxed their team with your embarrassing outpouring of accolades and praise for their exceptional drive and memorable playing.  Sorry, momentary relapse into my superstitious side.  From my practical side, your announcing was pitiful and I pray some other network will snatch the World Series coverage out of your inept hands.  I mean, come on, when the announcers at an event as important as the World Series can’t even pronounce the names of the players, that’s just piss-poor reporting.  Learn the names of the players and the teams before you open your mouths.  And by the way, whichever of you it was who was talking the other night about how good it must be to be a fan in Boston right now with the “White Sox” playing in the World Series, the Pats undefeated, etc., etc.  You’re an idiot.  Fox should fire your ass for that alone!

Okay, back to our regularly scheduled program…the Red Sox won the World Series and now have two championships in their pockets this century.  There’s a lot of speculation about whether they can keep this going and win another World Series in the not so distant future.  Well, you know what Red Sox fans have been saying for a long time now; “Wait till next year.”

The thing is…for Red Sox fans, that now has an entirely different connotation.  Instead of “okay, we lost this year, but there’s always next year,” it’s “I can’t wait to see what this team can do next year!”  That’s incredibly sweet!

And the frosting on top of this wonderfully sugared dessert?  Well, the first thing that came out of my Yankee fan husband’s mouth this morning was, “Wait till next year.”

Oh, yeah, couldn’t have said it better myself!

A couple of weeks ago, I posted about the legend of Tessie and asked all of Red Sox Nation to start singing the song again in an effort to help our boys win.  Well, I don’t have a clue if that’s the reason they won the ALCS and are playing in the World Series, but something definitely happened.

And while that mysterious “something” was happening, I was singing Tessie at the top of my lungs…every chance I got.  To the point I think my husband–a Yankees fan (my secret shame!)–is ready to either duct-tape my mouth shut or consult a lawyer about divorcing me due to irreconcilable differences or maybe even cruel and unusual punishment.

The thing is, I can’t stop singing it now.  No matter what.  Not even if I tried!  I’ve been a Red Sox fan for a long time–longer than I’ve been married–and singing Tessie seems to be working so I’ll continue to sing.  I’m not willing to take any chances when it comes to my boys and winning.  Besides, I like that song, and I love to sing–though I’m the original “can’t carry a tune in a bucket” gal.

So, I sing it during the games–actually, this may be a form of self-defense against those awful Fox sports announcers.  Just a little aside here, can you people please drop the verbal love affair with Troy Tulowitzki?  It’s sickening and I really don’t want to hear it any more!

Okay, back to what I was saying, I’ve got Tessie in my CD player in my car, in my CD player at home, and “Fever Pitch” in my DVD player.  I sing Tessie in the shower, I even wake up at night with it going through my head.  And it seems to be working!

<crossing fingers and knocking on wood to negate the jinx>

Not to take anything away from my boys, they’ve been playing their hearts out and I freely admit I may have misjudged the level of their drive and determination.  In my defense, I never put down their abilities–well, okay, I jumped on Gagne a time or two, but not without reason–just their heart, their desire to win, their cohesiveness as a team.  And they proved me wrong!  Thank goodness!

So, to all of you who are members of Red Sox Nation, keep singing and keep believing!

I promised myself I wouldn’t write anything else about the Red Sox until we find out how the ALCS turns out, but I’m fed up with the way the sports media is vilifying one of my favorite players, Manny Ramirez, and I have five words for them: Just. Shut. Up. About. Manny!

I love Manny, even–or perhaps I should say, especially–when he’s just being Manny.  He’s cocky–yes, but he has reason, take a look at his stats, if you want proof.  He’s a smart-ass–yes, and my mom always told me “No one loves a smart-ass.”  Well, sorry Mom, but your daughter is currently crushing on one, and has been ever since said smart-ass became a member of the Boston Red Sox.  He doesn’t always say the right thing–yes, but who of us isn’t guilty of that?  He sometimes acts a little silly–yes, but again, who of us isn’t guilty of that? 

The thing is–are you listening ESPN and all you other sportscasters out there?–Manny is an individual, and as such, he’s multi-dimensional.  His life isn’t always about “Manny being Manny,” nor is it always about “Moonshot Manny” or “Mann Ram.”  It’s not even always about being a basesball player.  He’s a husband, a father, a son–I could go on and on, but you get the idea.

Then again, maybe you don’t.  You haven’t exactly impressed me with your intelligence thus far, but back to the subject at hand, Manny…Manny is a baseball player who has a tendency to speak out about certain things or act a little goofy at times, but just because you see his remarks or behavior as innappropriate, that doesn’t mean they are.  What he said the other night about the possibility of losing the ALCS not being the end of the world was, if you take the time to think about it–you do know how to think, don’t you?–dead-on right.  It wouldn’t be the “end of the world,” and as he said, there is “always next year.”

Manny also said, “we just want to have fun and win.”  Hmm…Manny wants to have fun while he’s doing his job.  Don’t we all want that?  Of course we do, and in my opinion, that’s something we could all learn from Manny.  He’s a baseball player, yes, but more than that, he’s having a good time doing what he’s paid to do.  I don’t know about you, but I like that idea.  I personally think the world would be a much better place if more of us were like Manny.  I mean, sure, goals are important, and you should try your best to reach them…but don’t forget to have a little fun along the way.

That’s a lesson for the ages.  I like it much better than the lesson you’re trying so hard to shove down our throats; winning is everything, and individuality is cause for shame and mockery.  Well, winning isn’t everything and individuality should be celebrated, not ridiculed.

So, get off Manny’s back, quit taking his words out of context and trying to make him seem like the biggest idiot who ever walked the earth, much less played the game of baseball, and most of all, grow up!  All your fnger pointing and laughing only goes to show your incredible immaturity…and it’s just cost you one viewer.

(No sportscasters were harmed during the venting of this rant.)

I have a lot of things going on in my mind right now, so this may get a little…um, shall we say disconnected?  Arbitrary?  Jumbled?  Disorganized?  Rambling?  Garbled?

Okay, I like to look words up in the dictionary and/or thesaurus.  So sue me, a fascination with words is a part of who I am and part of being a writer.

So, first order of the day; the Colorado Rockies.  Do you believe in miracles?–indeed.  Major kudos to the team, the coaching staff, and to their ownership for having the foresight and conviction to build a team from the ground up, so to speak, and give them a chance to show the world what they could do.  These guys know and believe that old adage about there being no “I” in team, and I don’t care what anybody says, it takes a team to win the World Series.  And I do believe they have a very good chance of doing exactly that, all you have to do is look in their eyes and you can see it.

Which brings me to the second thing on my mind today; the Cleveland Indians.  Yes, I’m a Red Sox fan, and I’m still rooting for them, but I have to say, I think the Indians are going to win the ALCS.  They seem to have the same drive and determination that has carried the Rockies so far.  Don’t get me wrong, I think the Red Sox have it too, but it doesn’t look to be as strong in them as it is in the Indians.  That being said, if the Indians do go to the Series, I’ll be pulling for the Rockies all the way.  Not just because the Indians will have beaten my team, but because it’s thrilling to see a team that most people–including myself–wrote off at the beginning of the season as no more than a bump on the radar, pulling themselves up and going all the way to the championship. 

However, it would be even more thrilling to see my boys pull out of this little slump they seem to have fallen into and win it all.

A little side note here, if Terry Francona even makes a move toward Eric Gagne for however many games we have left this year, I’m taking a road trip up to Boston, hunting Gagne down, and stuffing him down Francona’s throat.

Okay, so the third thing that’s on my mind today is, of course, all these problems I’m having with my publisher.  Some of the authors who’ve pulled their rights have gotten together and started a private group where we can voice our concerns and complaints without fear of being labeled “problem authors”–something that was implied in one of the emails I received from the publisher.

In short, we’ve started a “bitch and moan” group.  I’ve posted there several times about things that bother me with this publisher.  This morning I posted about the fact that neither of the owners has bothered to address the problem with the web site being down this weekend.  No apology, no explanation, just dead silence.  One of the authors, who also happens to be an editor, followed my post with a message that wondered if any of us who’d pulled our rights had thought about the fact that when we did, whoever edited our book would not get paid for their work.  I hadn’t realized that, and okay, I admit it, hadn’t even thought about it.  I mean, I knew editors were paid a royalty–have no idea if that’s the correct term here, maybe I should say a percentage–for each time a book they edited is sold, but I had no idea they didn’t at least get paid…something for the time they put in during the editing process.  So, the editor who worked on my book will not get paid.  That sucks.  Then again, I won’t get paid either.  Still, it isn’t fair and I’m sorry her hard work will earn her nothing because she definitely improved on my work.

The thing is…(you knew it was coming, didn’t you?) the fact that she won’t ever get paid isn’t my fault, just as it isn’t hers.  As I told her when I responded to her post, the fault rests squarely on the shoulders of the publisher.  And since the publisher has gone into hiding again and isn’t responding to their authors, there’s not a whole lot any of us can do about it.  We can only hope we’ll hear something sooner rather than later and when we do, it will satisfy all of us.  Meanwhile, I’d hate to see this whole thing turn into a finger-pointing contest, or to borrow the words of this editor, an “us” versus “them” scenario.  The authors did what they felt they had to do in light of the publishers breach of contract and we’re sorry if the editors or cover artists are not being paid.  Beyond that, there’s nothing we can do.

It’s all in the publisher’s hands now.    

I’m not sure why that title popped into my head this morning, but it did so I’m going to go with it–and hopefully continue with it in the Fridays to come.  I’m feeling…um, melancholy this morning.  Or maybe a better way to put it would be pensive, because I’m not feeling sad, which is the first definition listed for melancholy in the dictionary.  The second is pensive, contemplative.  That describes my feelings better.

Also, I’ve noticed a lot of bloggers are following certain themes for their blogs as a way of coming up with ideas about what to write on certain days, i.e. Thursday Thirteen.  The themes don’t appeal to me, but I like the alliterativeness of the titles–hence Friday Folly.

From Websters Dictionary; folly–1) a lack of good sense, understanding or foresight, 2) an act or instance of foolishness.

Like most people, I’ve had a few of those in my life and they fall under several categories; a) some which I regret, b) some which I learned from, c) some which, though stupid at the time, turned out all right in the end,  and d) some which I can now look back on and say, “What the heck was I thinking?”  My Friday Folly for today is one which falls under a) right now, but I hope will some day be included under c).

Back when I was a kid, I was on a softball team that sucked–and I mean, it really sucked.  We were the youngest team in the league and we didn’t win a single game that year…think “Bad News Bears” without the happy ending.  One fateful night, our game was rained out.  I wasn’t in the mood to read, so I turned on the TV and as I flipped through the channels, I happened to catch a baseball game.  I was a highly competitve kid and I played softball, so watching a baseball game seemed like a good idea at the time.  I don’t remember who the opposing team was, but I do remember the winning team was the Boston Red Sox.  And by the time the game was over, I was mesmerized.

The reason for my fascination?  Tony Conigliaro, a hot-shot rookie, who before he was beaned in the eye several years later, showed promises of becoming one of those outstanding players who go down in the sports annals as one of the greatest who ever played the game.

As the kids today say, I was crushing on Tony C, and he returned the favor by infecting me with an incurable disease, a passion for the Red Sox.  If you’re a Sox fan, you know what I’m talking about.  If you’re not, all you have to do is watch the movie “Fever Pitch,” it’ll give you a pretty good idea of what it means to be a Red Sox fan.  So, since the disease is incurable, I still root for them, and there are times when I curse the name of Tony Congliaro and times when I think he was the best thing that ever happened to me.

Unfortunately, right now, I’m cursing his name.  The Sox have given up a 14 1/2 game lead in the AL East, which is bad enough in itself, but what’s worse is they’ve given it up to the Yankees.  I know, I know, you’ve heard it all before, maybe even caught me talking about it on this blog–dare I hope?–but it seemed a good way to start this theme because it’s one of those things that happen in your life which will keep you guessing until the end.

The thing is, was it a gift or a curse?  Well, thank goodness, the jury’s still out on that one and I can still hope that it’ll turn out all right in the end…

…but probably not this year.    

No post yesterday, because Unwilling Angel was released and I was busy with all the hoopla that goes with having a book released.  I tell you, it’s an aweome thing when you submit a manuscript then hear from a publisher that they would like to offer you a contract, but when it finally hits the cyber-space bookshelf–after weeks, or even months, of edits, countless hours spent working with a cover artist to find just the right cover, and days of pre-promotions, it’s a relief.  You get–or I do–a feeling of whew, at last it’s done!  Now I can move on,

The thing is, what do I do next?

I have plenty of options to choose from–five, count ’em, five works-in-progress, seven completed books which need a home, more promotions for my new release, web site to be updated, etc., etc., etc.–none of which appeal to me at the moment.  You see, after yesterday’s whirlwind, I need a break and I can feel my Procrastination Slut persona coming to the fore.

I’ve written about her before in my LJ blog, but I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned her here, so I’ll give you a bit of explanation.  I have this tendency to shut down, especially when I have a lot of things I need to do.  It’s irritating, but there it is.  I’ve learned not to fight it, but that doesn’t mean I can’t dream of what it would be like if I banished her for good.

Hmmm…I’d have numerous books either out on the market or awaiting release, I’d finish off those WIPs and get them out to publishers in the blink of an eye, I’d compose query letters and synopses with little or no painful frustration, I’d be a computer-savvy wiz at promotions, and I’d know how to upload a picture to this blog–

 –and that’s another thing, why is it when you click on the “insert image” icon on WordPress, you don’t get a “browse” option like you do on almost every other site in the cyber-world?  Instead, you get seven fields which have to be filled out and most days, my brain is way too tired for that.  Maybe while the Procrastination Slut is ruling, I should present this to her as a puzzle to be solved.  She doesn’t like to work, but she has no objection to sitting on her butt and playing around with the computer.  So, maybe if I don’t classify it as work, but dress it up as an…enigma (she likes fancy words), I can fool her into figuring it out, because I know there’s a way to do it, I just haven’t found it yet!

Anyway, the Procrastination Slut is back–hey, do you think that’s what’s wrong with the Red Sox, they’re putting off till tomorrow what should be done today, or more correctly, what should have been done weeks ago?  I’ve been trying not to think about this, but I have to say it, Boston is through for the season, they may as well pack up their equipment and slink off the field with their tails between their legs.  And I do mean slink.  They have no reason to hold their heads up and I have no desire to give them a standing O.  Come to think of it, they’d better keep their heads down, ’cause I’m sure there are a lot of fans in closer proximity than I am, who’d love nothing more than to toss a few balls and bats at them.  A word of advice, boys; keep your batting helmets handy this winter, it may save you from a hospital visit.  Oh, and during the post-season when you’re not playing, in between watching the New York Yankees win the AL and probably go on to win the World Series, maybe you should hit the Patriots up for some shoulder pads and a lesson or two on how to band together when times are tough–you obviously don’t have a clue.  To put it in lingo you’ll understand…you suck wicked bad!

Okay, that helped a little bit.  Now, back to our regularly scheduled program…the Procrastination Slut reigns supreme in my world and there’s no telling how long she’ll hang around.  So, while she’s reclining on her chaise lounge (her version of a throne), popping bite-size Heath bars in her mouth (her version of chocolate truffles), and being entertained by her sister’s latest romantic thriller (her version of a court jester), I’m going to present her with a conundrum (I think she’ll like that word):  How many cyber-space imbeciles does it take to post an image on WordPress?

Her answer (I’d bet money on this one):  Ask me later, I’m too busy wasting time right now.

I can’t think of a single thing to write about right now.  So I’m just going to do my personal style of…um, can’t remember what it’s called…you know, that psychic thingie where you have a pencil in your hand, you clear your mind, and let your pencil write without thinking about what you’re writing, only I’m doing it with a keyboard instead of a pencil–and jeez, I hope my editor doesn’t read this ’cause she’ll probably drive all the way up here from Georgia and shoot me for that run-on sentence.

It’s a ho-hum Tuesday in my neck of the woods.  The sun is coming out, melting away the mist that’s hovering around the mountains and we’re supposed to have a high of 73 degrees today.  It was down in the forties this morning when I got up and it’s almost like being back in Maine.  Except here I have the mountains around me, which is something I really missed when I lived in Maine.  Not that there weren’t mountains there, but we lived in southern Maine, about a half hour south of Portland in a little town called Saco.  You had to drive some distance to see mountains, but I could get in my car and be at the beach in about ten minutes.  That was nice, but I’m not a beach type of person, I much prefer the mountains.  I guess that’s because I was raised in Knoxville, at the foot of the Smoky Mountains. or maybe it’s because my dad’s family is from Black Mountain, NC, and I spent a lot of time there while I was growing up.  We always went to the mountains on vacation.  I never even saw a beach until I was eighteen and went to Florida with some friends after my freshman year of college.

Stream of conciousness–is that what this is called?  Hmm, doesn’t sound right, but what do I know?

Since I got up, I’ve been researching publishers, trying to figure out who I’m going to submit my manuscript to–you know, the one I just got the rights back for?  I’ve got a list of five, one of which is located in the South and is looking for books with a strong southern presence, which Snow Shadows definitely has.  It takes place in the mountains of North Carolina and is based on an ancient Cherokee legend–hard to get more Southern than that.

Next, comes the dreaded query letter–blech!  I don’t even want to think about that right now.

Okay, I’ve got to say this and quit putting it off.  Maybe if I write about it, I can put it aside.  The Red Sox lost last night and the Yankees won, which means our lead in the AL East is down to 3 1/2 games.  There are eleven games left and I’m afraid the prediction I made back in May is about to come true–the Yankees are going to come back and take the AL East.  The Red Sox, well, the way we’re playing right now, we don’t even deserve to be in the wild card race, but we’ll probably make it.  I just don’t think we have a snowball’s chance of going any farther (further–there’s those two words again, I’m going to have to look them up on Grammar Slammer and get them straight in my mind once and for all).

And as Forrest Gump said, that’s all I have to say about that.  It’s too painful to talk about.

So, this ho-hum day is going to be spent in the worst possible way–well, okay, maybe not the worst possible, but it’s pretty bad in my book–drafting, and hopefully polishing, a query letter to be sent to the publishers I’ve chosen to submit to.  I probably should read over the synopsis again, I’m sure it could benefit from a bit of polishing too.  I should probably get busy on that right now…

The thing is, there’s this side of me I call the Procrastination Slut and I have a feeling she’s going to come to the forefront today.  Which means I probably won’t get a thing done, at least, nothing of any value.  

Oh, well, that might be the best thing considering my second book is coming out tomorrow, and I’ll be busy all day with promotions.  I hope you’ll check it out, Unwilling Angel by Caitlyn Hunter at www.twilightfantasies.com.  It’s a sweet paranormal romance along the lines of It’s a Wonderful LIfe.

 

For me, this past weekend was one of extreme highs and lows, and in my mind, can only be compared to a roller coaster ride.  It had the heart-pounding thrill of climbing that unbelievably high slope, the breath-stealing anticipation of reaching the top then teetering there for a few spine-chilling moments, and finally, the mind-blowing descent down the other side.  By Sunday, I didn’t know whether to give in and enjoy the sensations or shut my eyes and scream, “Stop the ride, I want to get off!”

I climbed into the car on Friday night while it was hovering at the ride’s lowest point, held there by the Yankees defeating the Red Sox–a game we should have won and would have if our stellar and much-revered bullpen had performed the way they were expected to.

On Saturday morning, the car started its rickety climb up the slope when I received word from a publisher saying they wanted to include my short story “The Secret Life of Alice Smitty” in their PMS: Poison, Murder, Satisfaction anthology–see Saturday’s post “Happy Dances.”

Shortly after that, we reached the pinnacle when Josh Beckett led Boston to a 10-1 trouncing of the Yankees.  It was a beautiful thing, especially since I actually got to see it!  Of course, I had to watch it on Fox–do those people have any idea how incredibly dull and insipid their sports coverage is?–but even that wasn’t enough to dull my excitement.

Sunday morning the car was teetering on the summit when I received word from the publisher of my first book, “Death by Indifference,” that they were closing at the end of this month.  This one was its own little roller coaster ride in and of itself.  I was in turn, crestfallen, ecstatic, pissed off, and hopeful.  Crestfallen because that meant my book would only be available till September 30th.  Ecstatic because they’d had the good sense to close before being forced into bankruptcy as so many others in the epublishing industry have been in the last few months–thereby tying up the rights to countless books for months on end and causing unfair and unbearable distress to their authors.  Pissed off because I knew for months this was coming, I saw all the red flags and ignored them.  I’d signed a contract with them back in February for my paranormal romance, “Snow Shadows.”  They more or less sat on the manuscript for seven long months, and I can’t tell you how many times I thought of writing them and pulling the book–patience is not a strong point of mine!–but I let it slide.  How stupid is that?  Hopeful because it means the days of wondering and worrying are over.  As of September 30th, I can submit both books to other publishers and with any luck, they’ll see the light of day sometime in the future.   

Sunday afternoon and we’re still teetering on the brink.  My husband and I have been looking for a house for the past six months or so.  We finally found not one, but two we like enough to make an offer on and now we have to decide which one we like more.  They have a fairly equal amount of pros and cons, so the only thing to do now is weigh each pro/con individually and see where that leads us.

Sunday night, we plunged into the abyss when the Red Sox blew another game to the Yankees–I don’t want to talk about it!–then it was back up again when the Patriots won their game against the Chargers, hopefully silencing at least a few of their critics regarding the accusations of cheating which came to the forefront this past week.  One of the other bloggers on WordPress, http://firedannyainge.wordpress.com, made a very valid point about this and I quote,

The Patriots have lost quite a few players in recent years that weren’t too happy about not getting paid. Ty Law, Lawyer Milloy, Willie McGinnest, Adam Vinatieri etc… to name a few. Wouldn’t you think if this had been going on for a long time that one of these players would have blown the whistle if they knew?”

Well, duh, of course.  Why didn’t I think of that?  So, thanks firedannyainge for pointing this out and giving me ammunition to use against my husband who is a Colts fan.

So now, the hair-raising ride is over at last, I can climb with wobbly knees out of the car, and get on with my normally dull and staid life.  The thing is, I have a sneaky suspicion I’m going to be feeling the repercussions from this particular roller coaster ride for a long time to come.

Okay, the Red Sox lost to the Yankees last night–again!  The season is rolling to a close and those damned Yankees are making us look like fools.  If we don’t do something, Boston’s going to replace the Yankees as the biggest chokers in baseball, topping their 2004 downfall in the ALCS when they were ahead three games and lost the next four to our beloved Sox.

That’s just wrong and I have two words to say to all of Red Sox Nation: Tessie Up!

This takes a bit if explaining–especially if you’re not a Sox fan–so I hope you’ll stick with me.  It has to do with superstitions.  If you’re a baseball fan, you gotta have ’em.  I’ve got a gazillion where the Red Sox are concerned.  Given last night’s game, I’d have to say mine aren’t working, so I’m calling out to Red Sox Nation to Tessie Up!  Because our boys need it.  Desperately.  

Where is this coming from?  Well, this morning, I was following one of my own personal superstitions and reading the comments written by some of the Yankee fans to an article on AOL Sports about last night’s game.  One of them said–and I’m paraphrasing here–“The ghost of Babe Ruth is back!”

Meaning, of course, that the Curse of the Bambino is alive and well and living in Red Sox Nation.

Can’t argue with that, especially since the Yankees have hacked away at our lead in the AL East until it’s down to a measly 4 1/2 games–and I’m afraid it’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better.  If it ever does get better.  So, we’ve got to do something to stop the Babe.  We’ve got to counter-attack with Tessie.

What’s Tessie?  Well, roughly, “Tessie” is a song from the early 20th century that was adopted by the “Royal Rooters,” a group of Red Sox supporters as their rally cry.  Some people believe the singing of “Tessie” is the reason Boston was going to and winning the World Series pretty regularly back in the early 1900’s, back before 1918 when Ruth was sold to the Yankees.  I’ve even seen it posited that the Curse of the Bambino is nothing compared to the Curse of Tessie.  “Tessie” is also credited with the 86 year drought because they stopped singing it after 1918.  Then, in 2004, the Dropkick Murphy’s released an updated version of the song and when people started singing it at the games, Boston won the World Series again.

So, have they stopped playing “Tessie” at Fenway?  Or, could it be that Tessie is a jealous ghost and we’re not giving her enough attention?  If the fans at Fenway–and oh, how I wish I could join you–start singing Tessie’s accolades again, not just after the game but during it, will we salvage this season that’s slipping through our fingers?

Or, are they already singing it and Tessie’s ghost is getting her butt kicked by Babe Ruth’s ghost the same way we’re getting ours kicked by the Yankees?  (I really can’t say because I’m down here in NC and I have to rely on ESPN’s pretty worthless coverage of the Red Sox.)

Thing is, we have to do something to give our boys a boost.  So, to all the Fenway Faithful, Tessie Up!  Don’t just smile when you hear it played after the game and think, “oh, what a catchy tune,” but open your mouths and sing.  And not just when the game is over.  Belt it out at the top of the second, the bottom of the sixth, whenever, and get all the people around you singing too.

Don’t know the words?  You can find them here (along with a better explanation than mine):

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tessie

And let’s see if we can’t stop this humiliating downward spiral before it’s too late.

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