Wow, Andrew's really going at this Diaryland stuff! I can't even keep up. I don't know if I want a weblog, or if I want the three optional fields. So I'm just going to stick with the same ol' same ol' until I decide.

Saturday and Monday at the ballpark went quickly because I had so much to do. I spent most of Saturday's game writing my Sunday column, then had to write the game story afterwards. Then Casey and I went to dinner in the Village and to see The Cat's Meow with Kirsten Dunst and Eddie Izzard and Grandpa Gilmore, you know, the guy from the Dodge commercials. It's about media magnate William Randolph Hearst and the murder on his yacht back in the 20s. I love movies like that.

Sunday we woke up to rain and the media rep from the team called me in the morning to tell me the game was postponed, so I took my time getting ready and had lunch before leaving Casey's. I went back to Little Silver to do some laundry and some computer stuff (last entry) and then decided to call Dave because I wanted to find a bar with the NTN trivia game, but Redheads didn't have it and the second one we went to, the Mad Hatter in Sea Bright, didn't have it on until we were ready to go. Oh well, at least we know where to find it down there. And it was a nice evening for a drive.

Then I got to spend the night in front of the TV, something I don't do much anymore.

Monday morning I played hockey and did quite well. It was a good game, a close one (we sometimes have problems with competetive balance when dividing up the teams) and I left feeling thoroughly exhausted. It carried over to today: I walked slowly the rest of yesterday; I slept well when I did, but when I woke up during the night, I could not lie comfortably; and I still feel it in my legs today. I wanted to run today, but I couldn't do it.

Last night's doubleheader was more of the same from Saturday: I spent much of the first game tracking down stats and stuff on the internet, then writing my notebook. During the second game, I wrote up the stuff I needed from the first. But the time the second one ended, all I needed to do was add the final score and go to the clubhouse to get quotes.

I hung around the ballpark a little afterwards. Hall of Fame pitcher Bob Feller was there signing autographs and stayed out on the concourse in 40-degree weather until he signed for every last fan on line. Then he came up to the press box, where he was supposed to be able to eat his hot dog in peace, and he spent another half hour talking with team employees and a few journalists. After I wrote my story and got his autograph on a Hall of Fame baseball, I went out to the bar and hung out with some of the team staff and watched hockey and had a beer. Casey, at the Howie Day concert, called me when he played "Disco" and I immediately had a flashback to last summer, when she sent me the CD and I'd play it over and over in my car, particularly when driving to the ballpark.

Back in Jersey City after the show, she called me while I was near Exit 13A on the Turnpike, the last exit before 14, the turnoff for Jersey City and my last chance to decide if I'd sleep at my place or hers. So I went to hers, then came back to my apartment (with a stop at the supermarket) this morning.

And I've spent the entire afternoon going through e-mails and job postings and applying to six or eight or 10 -- I don't even know. Maybe one of them will produce at least a phone call and I won't feel so useless and trapped in a job I soon won't be able to stand in any capacity. Still, it's much better than a relationship like that.

But getting some resumes out was a requirement for today, a requirement for me before I'd allow myself to update or catch up on all the diaries I've neglected in the last week. There'll be too many, I'm sure, but I'm at least going to Casey's and Tessa's and Heather's.

Right ...

about ...

now.