Another Saturday: Bouncing

Woke up Saturday morning. Thank God for that. Putzed around a little. Watched some Yankeeography. David Cone. Derek Jeter. Joseph left to study. I putzed around some more.

Then brought myself to the computer to work. I turned to the SIPOC page in the binder the size of an elephant's ear. Lean Six Sigma. I've mentioned it before. I'm in training as we speak. Monday and Tuesday for four weeks. I'm in the third week. And Clint - our trainer - had the gumption to give us homework.

The SIPOC. Reminiscent of Spock's crazy half brother (Sybok) from the worst Star Trek movie in existence (V), this SIPOC is an acronym standing for Sewage in Pots on Cars. Eww, gross. No no, it's... S... eh, I forget what S stands for. I - Inputs. P - Processes. O - Outputs. C - Customers. A bunch of bureaucratic repackaging of management methodologies. Well, there's some good too. I want to be fair. But now's not the time. Because I want to get to the bouncing...

I showered. Changed. Flossed. Mouthwashed. Brushed my teeth. And caught the bus. Fifty minutes. Reading Walden. About his furniture. Fascinating book, to be honest.

Got off at Pike and Pine. Walked briskly up Pine to Purr where Joseph was talking to the ECSA (Softball) Commissioner about Joseph's new position as Hall of Fame director. Yes, there's a Hall of Fame for the ECSA.

We got in the car and headed north. To the Rock. Not that Rock. That would have been south anyway. It's a pizza place in Lynnwood. My friend, a player I coach, and a person with whom I work (all the same person) - Tara - was celebrating a younger birthday than I. The reservation was a tad bit screwed up. But it didn't matter. We took over a corner of the bar and proceeded to wreak havoc upon the masses.

I saw my old boss - that boss that left on 8/29 - for the first time since his departure. He asked how it was going. I asked him the same. A bit awkward. He asked about work. I told him. And then he said to ride out the company and then look for a job at someplace like Microsoft.

After wreaking for a while, we were seated in the bowels of the restaurant where some of us - Steve, Erik, and I - spied the Penn State / Ohio State matchup. One piece of pizza. Two and three. Third beer. Fourth piece of pizza forced upon me by Ashley. California style I think. Okay, so she didn't force it. And then the fifth piece of pizza. And fifth beer.

We finished, stuffed. Some departed. The rest of us made our way to a huge warehousish building that, we soon discovered, contained huge bouncy edifices normally meant for kids. But Tara had the wacky idea that we should become kids again and bounce. And boy did we bounce. There was the obstacle course where Twiggy kept proceeding through backwards. There were the twin slides that Maggie's husband's friends kept trying to climb incorrectly. There was the basketball court where our young 16 year old overseers put the cushy huge fists for us to box. And then there was the King of the Hill float where we beat the living hell out of each other. Well, just me, Joseph, Tara, Ashley, and Twiggy. Bruises, scratches, sore muscles.

And that was after the first five minutes. Boy were we out of shape and exhausted. But we got ourselves back in and I destroyed my favorite jeans. Shredded them at the knees, really.

Almost whoopsed my cookies a few times. But held it in like a champ.

By the end, we were laying about like corpses, having had the best time in our respective recent memories.

And that's how I spent Saturday night...