I guess I'm not the only one, but I totally woke up and had to scrape off my windshield this morning. It was a shock, to say the least.

I realized that I don't have a particularly heavy winter jacket and that, more importantly, I don't currently have gloves. The windshield-scraping certainly was a struggle - I came out of it with a slightly sliced index finger and a more-than-slightly bent windshield wiper - the result of over-vigorous stroking. The ice had numbed the finger, so I didn't notice the blood until I got back in the car and was already on the road. My right ring finger was also dealt a scraping-related cut, as my class ring (Who wears a class ring? Dorks, that's who.), probably too big when I received it in 2002, is now way too big. It must have been sliding around and - whack - a centimeter-long slice at the base of the finger.

I also don't have boots, but this is less of a problem.

I also don't have a car with doors that properly open in the winter. They'll unlock just fine (and, as my old boss claims to have never locked his car, I'll move that way for the winter just in case they start giving me problems), but they're not particularly good at not-freezing shut. I was late for work two or three days for this reason last winter, but it didn't really matter because, well, there wasn't much to do in the middle of the winter.

Is there a cure for doors that freeze shut? I'm not sure.

Perhaps I'll pay the 12 bucks a month for the carport. Probably a good investment, I think.

- - - - - - - - -

I spoke to a broadcaster friend - one of my favorites - on Monday. I went to see him during our all-star break in July, and had stayed in touch as he worked his way to a new job opportunity during the end of the summer. He had called while I was in line at CoPa on Saturday afternoon, certainly assuming that I was still in the baseball world.

So he told me his story of moving and starting anew and trying to make a positive impact in his new market, and it was really pretty exciting. A hardworking guy, and I think he'll be a fantastic success.

So, of course, then I told him my story. About the shitcanning. (I love using the term "shitcanning.") About the regroup trip. About the fact that I had sent out a resume previously. About finding the job. About volleyball breaks. About the atmosphere. About the new roommate. About things. Updates, you know. (RHH's readership is a select group.)

So, the conversation's coming to an end, and he nails it: "Dude, you sound really happy."

I think he was right. Obviously, some nerves, but not until next April or May, when the season's going and I'm not, but he totally nailed it.

- - - - - - - - -

Work is generally good. It's busy, and I'm learning a lot, and I'm getting to know my coworkers a bit more. To be honest, I wish I knew them better, but perhaps there'll be opportunities soon. I've got a lot of married coworkers, and a few that are older, and I don't sense that there's much staff going-out. Not many people live in my corner of the Ring Fingernail - a 30-minute hike from the office - but I'm getting the sense that it's a generally good group.

I did get to make fun of someone who came in for an interview on Thursday, so that was cool. I was walking by a cluster of desks as the HR person was going over the interview with one person who was in there, and one who wasn't. "He was so arrogant," one was saying, "and the popped collar," the other said. And I jumped in, mentioning that I noticed him when he entered the office, and I was impressed by the garish choice of polo shirt (bright, bright pink) and the winning smile, but did a double take when I noticed the unbuttoned, flipped collar. We all shared a good laugh, so that was nice.

I think most people know my name at this point, and I can at least make bad jokes to them. That's worth something.

As I wrote here a few weeks ago, I really enjoyed my interview. It got me excited about the company. It was silly, and that made it good.

Well, since the interview, I'd exchanged about 14 words outside of "Hey" with the owner/boss/CEO/whatever. Utterances, rather, as all were volleyball-related grunts. She emphasizes the open-door policy, and her door was open this afternoon, so I walked in.

"Hey, you got 90 seconds for a story?"
"Sure. ? . "

So I told her about talking to my broadcasting pal, and how we hadn't been in real contact for about three months, and how he closed the conversation with, "Dude, you sound happy." And I told her I thought he was right, and that I was happy that I've wound up there. She said she was happy too, and mentioned that my DS was ecstatic. So that's worth something.

It was a nice conversation to have, though weird, but good, too.

- - - - - - - -

Great email received, courtesy of the boss, on Monday.

To: All Staff
Subject: Friday the 13th
Content:

In celebration of nothing in particular, we’re going to have an office outing this Friday – the 13th (ooowwweeeeeeoooo). [Ed: I don't think "ooowwweeeeeeoooo" rhymes with "Magglio," though I hope it does.]

At 1:30, we’ll convoy [to a local bowling alley], knock down a few pins and relieve a little stress – some more than others.

So, bring your Fred Flintstone twinkle toes, your rock balls and be prepared to make fun of each other.

That's bowling. Instead of working. And that's awesome.

Also, I've confirmed that beer consumption is acceptable. That's awesomer.

Reminds me of the last time I went bowling, about six months ago, again with new coworkers. I was totally awesome, and totally did a turkey dance. Owing to the turkey, of course.

Perhaps you'll get a full recap.

[Also, read that full post. I had just started running. I think it was 1.1 miles. Last week, I did eight. And I'm doing six on the treadmill now that it's snowing. Treadmills hurt my legs. Maybe I need new shoes.]

- - - - - - - - -

I feel no need to justify my "baseball bigamy," as Flax referred to it. However, I will. The Tiges are my closest big league team, and they're awesome to watch. They're the team that gets local coverage. They're the team that was on TV every single night of the summer. They're the team that has two eminently likable TV guys (and two awful radio guys). They're the team with some of the best young talent in baseball, and a crusty, old school manager. They're the team with one guy who played in the 'Port, and one major contributor who I spent a season watching lead the Midwest League in strikeouts. There's a lot to like about them, and I've proudly jumped on the bandwagon.

(For the record, the annoying guy next to me on Saturday - I hope he had a happy 30th birthday tonight - asked me how long I'd been a Tigers fan. "About three months," I proudly said. But I can see myself adopting them permanently.)

Do I feel the tie to them like I do to the Cubs? Of course not. But will I support them as far as they can go? Of course I will.

Are they my favorite American League team? Yup. (My second-favorite: the Twins. My third-favorite: the White Sox. Figure that out. The Tribe might even be number four, though that might be going too far.)

- - - - - - - -

For the first time ever at Comerica Park, I'll be the youngest person in my group on Saturday. Maybe I'll get a free souvenir foam finger out of it, or something.

If it gets to game five ("If." I love this team), the stars will be out. Not just Robertson, but also R-Josh, Nemo, and Carrie. I can feel the energy.

- - - - -

What's your favorite Cory Lidle memory? Mine is a recent one. Last Saturday, he was pulled by Joe Torre, and nobody stood up to slap his ass or give him a fist pound or a high five when he returned to the dugout. I'm not sure he was particularly well-liked.

I'm sure that ESPN overcovered his death. Or, at least, they covered his death at the expense of the question of "Why the hell was a plane able to, you know, fly straight into a high-rise? Aren't there air space restrictions?" There was reporting to be done, and they failed.

But instead we got a string of "It's a tragedy when the game loses one of its own" and "Our thoughts and prayers are with his family" and "It's a shocking, shocking day" quotes. What a waste of obligatory quotes.

- - - - - -

I've watched Today every day this week. 15 minutes, anyway. The first segment is really pretty good. I learn a bit.

- - - -

Check out Skipper's October 8th post. I'm "bro," and she was in withdrawal. That's flattering.

I understand every word she writes, and six percent of her sentences. Which is probably about the same as she understands of mine. Neither of us makes much sense.

XTC's "I'd Like That." A pretty good song to dance at 68 percent speed to, I think. If it weren't such a hokey song, I think she'd like to do something to The Rapture's "Love Is All."

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

I indeed got the Bob Pollard album on Tuesday. It kind of sucks. Or at least the boring-to-awesome ratio is pretty bad. He's on autopilot, but he's got no main project during which he tries anymore.

I guess "Supernatural Car Lover" is the highlight.

- - - - - -

Is there any reason for optimism in the Cats-Boilers game? Probably not, but I'm optimistic-ish. Go Cats.