Broken Finger: One Year Later

Late in the morning, exactly one year ago last May I broke my first bone.

It's not exactly one of the "Definitive Moments in World History", nonetheless the memory of the stumble, panic, and the flight and all-day stay at the hospital lingers say nothing of the obvious scar on my finger. The tendons on one side of my index finger are gone, and it swells if left in a down position for too long.

I never went into the subject in depth though: My hands!

They are massive, and the idea they could still be massive yet minus one digit was a few millimetres away from a reality that day. More or less, they are a spectacle to everyone or anyone who notices them. Slightly smaller than NBA great Shaquille O'Neal's hands, they measure fourteen inches in circumference, give or take. According to a boxing fan friend of mine they are about the same size as the late heavyweight champion Sonny Liston. I didn't envision becoming the next Sonny, so I just smiled, nodded, ran to the nearest faucet I could find, and doused them in cold water to shrink my hand size.

My secret crush from the previous decade noticed my hands, too. Oh yes! It was years ago, and she put her hand in mine to measure. Outside, I was nonchalant about it, but inside I was gushing. 😍 *Phil calm down* 😒

Before the injury, I could do the infamous "Four Hoops" trick, where I bend my fingers back and form four circles with my hands. I did this to freak out small cousins. 😁

There are disadvantages, though. Basketball jokes, wacky spelling mistakes on the keyboard, mostly. However, it's playing instruments where I have the most trouble. Where the bass guitar is a dream come true, intricate guitars and keyboards are a musician's nightmare. Never did I hit so many dual notes on strings than with these demonstrative digits! In spite of this, in the ten years since first picking up my old acoustic guitar, and getting blisters within minutes of playing Wonderwall (badly) these hands helped get me back into music, and into writing.

To think, it all could have disappeared that rainy day sixty miles west of Toronto. Everything in our lives, and about us is a gift, and at any moment they can be taken. My hope is these hands, as large as they are, will be used for good and wholesome purposes. 😮 👐 😀

If Pitching Machines Were People...

Since the beginning of April, I made the weekly pilgrimage to the batting cages in town as part of my spring training routine for this season. I changed my diet in the off-season to a seafood only, vegetarian diet, which helped with staying in shape.

In the time spent at the cages, however, I noticed the pitching machines have different personalities as well as different speeds.

The Dirty Player

He doesn't have good stuff, so after you hit his best pitch he will pitch inside just to get you off the plate. He also hates left handed batters, like REALLY!

The Angry Dad

The pitches are slow, yes, but they drop suddenly for no good reason. It also doesn't help the balls are as small as ball bearings in a child's bicycle. Not good when you bring your date to the cages, and you're swinging and missing. It takes a few pitches to know figure out what the machine is doing, so don't lose heart.

The Jealous Ex

Everything is seventy-five mph or above. He hates people. He wants to embarrass you, plain and simple. Unless a member of the Toronto Blue Jays arrives, when the cages are empty, and hits every single fastball the machine can dispense, no one challenges him.

One unfortunate note, before I go: There's that moment, when you get that perfect pitch, and you foul it off your bat the wrong way. The ball bounces into the dirt, and hits you... there.

There are usually kids around the cages waiting, so you grab your head instead. It's only for a moment, however, as the pitching machine throws another ball your way. Now, you're swinging and standing like a penguin balancing on two ice floats!

As if you didn't look goofy enough! o_O

Perspective, Roller Skates, and Free-Market Capitalism

A friend of yours from church discovered your dark secret. Instead of spending dozens of dollars at the shopping mall buying the latest, trend setting tops, unusually coloured trousers, and buckled shoes your friends Davin and Bekah like so much, you drive to almost the middle of nowhere, put down a few bucks, and enjoy four hours of... Roller Derby! 😲

Now, before you do your bad Cybermen impression, and "Deny! Deny! Deny!" Let's remember one thing: You're on film. 😮 💭 You're the goofy fan in the top row of the bleachers chowing on the tuna fish sandwich!

Yes, your secret is just broke loose and is the lead jammer, and now they're looping around on its first pass. You can be embarrassed, take a penalty, and sit out the next thirty seconds as your friends and onlookers berate you in a "power jam", or... THINK OF THE BOOK SALES!

For the first time since forever, you have the floor, and going outside to take in some family sports entertainment is a normal and neutral activity! Besides, you were surprised anyone made it that night...

You know, because it was the rookie team's second bout of the season, and they didn't lose by as many points as they did in their first game two weeks ago. #99 really improved their game and took no penalties, and what a great announcer "Mr. Whistler" is, and look at those buttons you bought last Saturday! You bought three button's with the travel team logo, no, it was two buttons and a keychain for only FOUR dollars, and the last at the register was so nice and she remembered you from the last time you went! 😊

You found there's nothing about which you should feel embarrassment! ☺ In a few minutes, you have a plethora of stories and experiences from which you can draw. 😀 Plus, if you remember enough stories, you can put them in a book, and people might even read them like they're reading this story RIGHT NOW! 😮 ❗ 😃

So, if you're having a bad day, or you need to recount an experience you had, own it with your words and take heart that you learned something. If all else fails, though, THINK OF THE BOOK SALES! 📚 😁

Are You A Better Human Than Phil Wood Was?

I was driving around the city, and I wanted to turn down the music coming from the radio, so I reached for the air conditioning knob. 😑

Backwoods Baseball, Part 2

Forsaking the warning signs on my dashboard, I make the turn towards the baseball diamond, unsure of where the road would take me. There are some things a man can replace, such as gasoline, but you cannot barter the trust of one's teammates.

Bounding over a couple of hills like an ant traversing the fringes of a checkerboard patterned tablecloth, my car arrives at another intersection: One path leads back to civilization, while the other heads off into uncharted territory and a playing field. I chose the latter, and in a short while I enter the quaint, unmapped town of Kilbride.

From what I could tell, the only prominent landmarks are a street leading to the main residential area of town, the fire hall that consists of relaxed firefighters enjoying the dusk of a summer day, and the school. The Kilbride Public School, which represents the door out from sleepy town Ontario to the big, busy world, is the place where my baseball dreams of grandeur and heroism lead me. My thoughts, as I pulled into the parking lot, turn to the meter measuring my gasoline, and a pool deep enough for a flea to drown remains. I made it.

Alas, as I find the teammates, a few more straggle in before we begin to wonder aloud: Where is the other team? o_O No sooner does the thought cross our minds then the sound of big motors and pickup trucks pull into the school disturbing the quaint peace of the valley. Their numbers are large, their choice of bats is stellar, their size is towering (well, a few of them, still...! O_O), and the odds are not in our favour.

As the game progresses the score gets wider, the breaks are beating us, and the grounders are a little further away from our grasp. Finally, the worries about gasoline are the last things I am thinking about as I head to the dugout for the final time after flying out to left field. The misadventure into the lovely town of Kilbride taught me a valuable lesson: Be prepared (DUH!), and what is more to enjoy the journey. If you don't stop to notice the Mom & Pop restaurant, the manicured rose-laden park, the old-time railroad crossings and street lamps, and the strawberry farm along the way then you will wonder how you arrived at your destination, place in life, or age in the first place!

An excursion can last thirty minutes, but the stories within that journey are limitless. ^_^

Backwoods Baseball, Part 1

I play baseball three times last week, each game for a different league in and around my hometown. My third game last week, however, was not in a usual, well lit part of suburbia, but out in the agricultural, rolling hills, and backwoods of Canada without the banjos.

First, there is my hometown of Mississauga, then a little west of there is Oakville, Burlington, and then a town called Guelph. This game I was about to participate in started almost immediately after work ended, so I not only had to get my gear from home and change clothes, I had a fair amount of driving to do. I'm a product of the 1990s, so when I need directions on how to arrive at a destination I print them out on 8.5"x11" paper, place the directions on the seat next to me, and drive the route the direction tell me to travel. No GPS, no ambient female voice telling me I made a wrong turn, and no room for error!

The major road to the diamond is a "line": The Guelph Line. Effectively, it's the border between urbanization and suburbia, and agriculture and secluded, sleepy towns like Lowville, Churchville, and Inglewood. Like the childhood home of NFL quarterback and future hall-of-famer Brett Favre, you can't find "Kilbride" on a conventional map. Google found "Kilbride Park", which is behind the elementary school, but Google believes the road to Kilbride is a straight line. Ladies and gentlemen, the Guelph Line is not a straight line; it's a border, and borders are never simple.

I took many slights and curves to stay on the Guelph Line burning the last of precious gasoline as I left, obeying traffic signs, and annoying the locals behind my automobile by doing so. I wasn't lost - I was...taking my time. As the clock indicated, throughout my journey through the Ontario backwoods, I had to put the pedal to the metal, yet it was during the many twists and turns I discovered I was only halfway to my destination when I arrived at Twiss Road (no pun intended).

Guelph Line & Twiss Road: I reached a cross roads. As the little Chief Engineer Scotty cackled in my head that "the engines aren't going to last much longer!", I eyed the little Esso gas station across the street. There was no telling how much longer the journey would last, and there was only enough gas left over for a few more kilometres.

If I get gasoline for the car, I would be late for the game. If I drove on ahead, I could be lost in the Ontario underbrush and thickets armed with baseball bats and a Los Angeles Dodgers hoody I purchased from the online store for $51 after discount.

What would I do? What would I do?

Evidence of Work

I decided to return to one of my first passions: Filmmaking ^_^

No, I'm not shooting a cinematic epic with a blockbuster film company with a billion dollar budget, instead I'm filming some short films and uploading them on YouTube. This is some of what I have so far:

My First Video

 

My First Video w/ Puppets

My First Video w/ tweezers o_O

Care Bears & The Running Joke

There are days in the annual calendar, when you take a day off from work and still receive pay: Those are called statutory ^_^ I learned that in university, believe it or not o_O The word "statutory"; I learned that when I arrived at school to study for an exam when a friend, who lived on residence, told me I went to school for no reason -_-

CARE BEARS VI: Don't get too attached to Tender-Heart, just saying.

SHE'S GOING TO KILL ME FOR TELLING THIS STORY

One of my friends from university is reading this now, and praying I'm not talking about her, but I am! ^_^ During university, I convinced one of my friends that there were scores of Care Bears movies with great subtitles. Whenever our group of friends got on the subject of movies, I would usually spin it toward a Care Bears movie I saw like "Care Bears VI: The Death of Tender-Heart".

I would go so far as to talk about "that dogfight scene" in "Care Bears XII: The Battle of California", or I would go on and on about the character development in "Care Bears V: The Search for Noble". I kept the running joke going for years because I convinced so many of my friends they were actual movies, but my friend really bought it (later on, my other friends would ask me one by one if I made it all up, and I would say yes, but she believed they were real movies!)

Finally, in my last year of university, I told her all fourteen of the Care Bears movies I gave detailed synopsizes and plot twists for were all made up. The original intent was to keep the joke going for a few months, but I convinced so much that I decided to reference it every once in awhile for years afterward. Her world kind of imploded when I said that, because she told me she couldn't find any of the movies I talked about ^_^ LOL

Every now and then I leave little jokes about the Care Bears on my Facebook page, just to lighten the mood. She hates me for that ^_^ OW! >_< (Phil gets punched in the shoulder) That hurt! Not unlike that scene from Care Bears VII: The Legend of the Doomsday Machine: Brave-Heart Lion punched Champ Bear! DUH DUH DUH! (I'm a terrible person...)