Yesterday was the kind of day that would have seemed busy five years ago.
I stained the wooden swingset out back, mowed the lawn, ran six miles, worked on an iMovie for a couple hours, watched "Children of Men," did a couple of Pokerworks articles and played some poker.
Bliss.
Saturday Kate took our litter (sorry if that offends twin parents, but I think a toddler and two twin girls equals a litter) down to her parents an hour away for Father's Day. You might think I'm getting hosed on Father's Day, but in fact, an empty house for a couple of days - I couldn't go because I work Sundays - is probably the best present I could get from her. That and a pretty cool "dri-fit" running shirt.
The girls, as I've said, have been easy, but they're still newborns, and there's two of them, and it took one bad afternoon to cause an earthquake-sized rift between us last week.
The worst time of the day for Kate is in the late afternoon, when Jayden needs to be fed and bathed, the twins need to be fed and Kate has to get dinner for herself. It's also the time when the twins start to get a little fussy. One or the other inevitably wants to be held around that time, and at times even the magic swing can't appease her or her.
On Wednesday nights I run intervals with a track group full of friends, and on Thursdays, I have a softball game. Both of these activities take an hour.
When I came home Wednesday from track, my mother watched, tight-lipped, as Kate informed me that I had to give up everything.
After a couple days of wrangling with each other, including probably the first time we've gone to bed pissed off at each other, we've worked out what I think will be some solutions to the age-old argument. Those include bringing Jayden to track with me, finding different hours to work out and, most importantly, getting Kate out of the house as well.
There are many things I value in life, but most of all, other than my kids, Kate and my health, I value serenity
I am an introvert. Oh, don't act so surprised. Most poker players are probably introverts, like most runners and most mountain climbers. That means we get our energy from being alone. Alone time, as you might guess, is pretty hard to come by these days.
Sometimes "alone time" means trying to pitch a softball across a plate or smack it to the outfield fence. Sometimes it means trying to run faster than I should or reaching a summit or playing a pocket pair well.
Other times it means watching a thoughtful movie, reading a probing book or dinking around on one of the kids' movies on iMovie.
It always means time when the only person I have to answer to is me.
It's who I am. Many times I wish it were different. For years I've kept few friends, not made nearly enough business contacts and, in the past, hurt even relationships I trust because of this. And now that I've got three little ones, I've wondered why not even time with them gives me the same energy as being alone does. Maybe it's because I'm constantly trying to prevent Jayden from killing himself (look, Daddy, I can take four stairs at once), but I've felt incredibly guilty over the time I haven't spent with him and now the twins more than proud over the time I have, even when I've made what I think is a good effort to spend hours with them every day and especially on weekends.
This is exactly why for years I hesitated and even dreaded having children. I knew they would be a challenge. There's nothing easy about getting up four times a night, being exposed to gag-inducing diapers and telling a toddler 786 times that day not to do something only to see him do it for the 787th.
My challenge, I knew, would be to ration the energy I needed from my free time and be OK with the fact that it would be many years before I got as much as I needed.
Maybe that's what this weekend was for.
Because, Sunday morning, I woke up later than 8 a.m., went for a bike ride and came home, and I was struck the quiet of the house.
It seemed pretty empty.
An hour later, I went down to grab the first iMovie I ever made, a 65-minute opus about Jayden's first year, complete with songs by the Barenaked Ladies sent to shots of him naked and running through the house, which would probably get me arrested if they weren't so damn funny.
A diaperless 1-year-old boy IS pretty funny, even if that occasionally leads to disaster.
I did it because I wanted to see where we would be in a few weeks and months.
I also did it because I missed my family.
Today I'm at work, and for the first time in weeks, my body does not feel like a truck ripped through it. My body is rested and my mind is clear.
And I can't wait to see them tommorow, when the chaos comes back into my life.
I'm thankful for times of serenity like this weekend.
I'm also thankful I get them in small doses.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Wordless Wednesday, with a touch of news
Do they look identical to you?
Because they are, apparently.
Our doc got the report back today and the woman who examined the placenta said it looks like they're identical. To me this is being a little bit pregnant, but I'm going with that despite the fact that they don't look exactly alike to me. Their haircuts are different, though, and that may be skewing my view.
At the very least, I'm really thrilled with the news. I don't know why I cared, but I was hoping the girls would be identical. I guess I've always thought identical twins were kind of cool, and not for the reasons you're probably thinking, and that if I was going to have twins (at one point, I'm sorry to say, I even thought "subjected" to twins), then they might as well be identical.
And, apparently, I'm not the only one who is excited at the news:
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Whiny ass post, v. 7.3
I simply need to vent.
Blog, you're it.
The twins have decided that they were making things a little too easy for us, so they've swapped times they needed to be held throughout the day. Jayden also apparently had a Chernobyl-like meltdown for almost an hour, and though I wasn't there to witness it, I felt it when I got home, as the fallout from said meltdown turned our normally cheery household into a black hole sun.
I was mentally exhausted by 9 p.m., and after another hour-long battle getting both girls down (I'm awake, no, I"M awake, no, MY TURN NOW to be held by Daddy), I finally got a chance to sit down at poker.
I played well, if I do say so myself. I won a big pot with Q-Q, bluffed several times, had a couple draws come in and twice got all my money in when I was at least 5-1 to win.
And I lost both those pots.
And I finished down $30 for the night.
And I was PISSED.
I still am. In fact, just thinking about the two beats leaves a thin drool of anger creeping down my chin.
Again, I'm venting. The first time I had a set of 4s, turned my full house and gladly called the monkey who decided that was a good time to push his A-A (he could not have telegraphed his cards any more even by turning them face up).
Still, shit happens, right? I played well enough to crawl back into even or close to it, and then with five people in the pot, I called a raise with 7,7 and got a board of K,5,7 rainbow.
Beautiful.
By the time the betting is through, three others push their stacks in, and I need to call $22 to win a $84 pot.
Um, OK.
What do you think they all had? I put one, the initial bettor and a donkey who bet two times the pot on an underpair, one on A,K, and the third on an underset.
I was right on the initial bettor - he had 8,8. One other guy did indeed have A,K. The third I was wrong about. He had two pair. He was the only one who had me covered, of course.
I really don't mind the call with two pair. It's probably not a great call but he was getting nice odds on his money, and as I said before, those other two players really had a wide range. You could even make a case that the big bet with 8,8 wasn't terrible. At least he was betting. The call with A,K is simpy inexcusable. What on earth would make you think top pair was good there?
Well, for my good play, the poker Gods saw it fit to reward Mr. Two Pair and give him a runner, runner flush.
So. If my monster, huge favorites hold up, if the odds just play out, I'm easily up $75 for the night, or at least three buy-ins. That's a lot for me. I'm a conservative player. No way would I ever, ever ask for a suckout to get those numbers, as I know that will never happen. I've also reviewed the hand histories and poker tracker and I haven't sucked out for a big pot, or even a pot over $5, in two months. Unbelieveable, isn't it. I think the ratio over the last two months is 25-1.
Now, yes, this sucks anyway, but in the last two months, I've basically been treading water because of beats like this. Yes, I've made a few mistakes, but most of the beats have come just like this one, where I get my money in and get fucked over. I'll show you the hand histories.
When you have kids in the house, you can't throw something or even yell, so I'm hoping this will work out some of the anger. I haven't been this angry in a while, and I really don't know why. Maybe it's because my poker time is limited now, so it burns me when I lose money cause it's hard to win it back, or maybe it's just everything else and I'm really tired. Or maybe I'm really fucking tired of losing when I make the right play. That was a huge pot last night, and I won't get another chance to win a pot like that in months.
Honestly I'm so fucking discouraged right now I am thinking about putting poker off for a while. If the game is truly like that these days, where you have a great night, slowly build your bankroll the right way and then continue to have it chopped down like a tree because of some fucker catching his miracle card, forcing to you once again build it back up and then rinse and repeat, so be it. I don't need that in my life right now, not with demanding kids and climbing season approaching.
We'll see.
I've got a meeting with a group I'll be guiding this summer up three 14ers, and then I've got a date with the new James Bond.
And when he loses that huge hand I've heard about, I'll simply smile.
We've all been there, Mr. Bond, and misery loves company.
P.S. Stay tuned tommorow for some cute Wordless Wednesday pictures instead of a bitter, whiny poker post.
Blog, you're it.
The twins have decided that they were making things a little too easy for us, so they've swapped times they needed to be held throughout the day. Jayden also apparently had a Chernobyl-like meltdown for almost an hour, and though I wasn't there to witness it, I felt it when I got home, as the fallout from said meltdown turned our normally cheery household into a black hole sun.
I was mentally exhausted by 9 p.m., and after another hour-long battle getting both girls down (I'm awake, no, I"M awake, no, MY TURN NOW to be held by Daddy), I finally got a chance to sit down at poker.
I played well, if I do say so myself. I won a big pot with Q-Q, bluffed several times, had a couple draws come in and twice got all my money in when I was at least 5-1 to win.
And I lost both those pots.
And I finished down $30 for the night.
And I was PISSED.
I still am. In fact, just thinking about the two beats leaves a thin drool of anger creeping down my chin.
Again, I'm venting. The first time I had a set of 4s, turned my full house and gladly called the monkey who decided that was a good time to push his A-A (he could not have telegraphed his cards any more even by turning them face up).
Still, shit happens, right? I played well enough to crawl back into even or close to it, and then with five people in the pot, I called a raise with 7,7 and got a board of K,5,7 rainbow.
Beautiful.
By the time the betting is through, three others push their stacks in, and I need to call $22 to win a $84 pot.
Um, OK.
What do you think they all had? I put one, the initial bettor and a donkey who bet two times the pot on an underpair, one on A,K, and the third on an underset.
I was right on the initial bettor - he had 8,8. One other guy did indeed have A,K. The third I was wrong about. He had two pair. He was the only one who had me covered, of course.
I really don't mind the call with two pair. It's probably not a great call but he was getting nice odds on his money, and as I said before, those other two players really had a wide range. You could even make a case that the big bet with 8,8 wasn't terrible. At least he was betting. The call with A,K is simpy inexcusable. What on earth would make you think top pair was good there?
Well, for my good play, the poker Gods saw it fit to reward Mr. Two Pair and give him a runner, runner flush.
So. If my monster, huge favorites hold up, if the odds just play out, I'm easily up $75 for the night, or at least three buy-ins. That's a lot for me. I'm a conservative player. No way would I ever, ever ask for a suckout to get those numbers, as I know that will never happen. I've also reviewed the hand histories and poker tracker and I haven't sucked out for a big pot, or even a pot over $5, in two months. Unbelieveable, isn't it. I think the ratio over the last two months is 25-1.
Now, yes, this sucks anyway, but in the last two months, I've basically been treading water because of beats like this. Yes, I've made a few mistakes, but most of the beats have come just like this one, where I get my money in and get fucked over. I'll show you the hand histories.
When you have kids in the house, you can't throw something or even yell, so I'm hoping this will work out some of the anger. I haven't been this angry in a while, and I really don't know why. Maybe it's because my poker time is limited now, so it burns me when I lose money cause it's hard to win it back, or maybe it's just everything else and I'm really tired. Or maybe I'm really fucking tired of losing when I make the right play. That was a huge pot last night, and I won't get another chance to win a pot like that in months.
Honestly I'm so fucking discouraged right now I am thinking about putting poker off for a while. If the game is truly like that these days, where you have a great night, slowly build your bankroll the right way and then continue to have it chopped down like a tree because of some fucker catching his miracle card, forcing to you once again build it back up and then rinse and repeat, so be it. I don't need that in my life right now, not with demanding kids and climbing season approaching.
We'll see.
I've got a meeting with a group I'll be guiding this summer up three 14ers, and then I've got a date with the new James Bond.
And when he loses that huge hand I've heard about, I'll simply smile.
We've all been there, Mr. Bond, and misery loves company.
P.S. Stay tuned tommorow for some cute Wordless Wednesday pictures instead of a bitter, whiny poker post.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Pop culture Monday and MY exciting weekend
"The Sopranos," other than "The Simpsons," is probably my favorite show of all time.
And I'm not pissed off today.
Most fans of the show are, but not only have they forgotten what the show's about, they didn't really watch the show. I think they were too busy slobbering over whether Tony would get shot or go to jail or what what what and failed to see just how much this show actually did resolve.
I won't go into detail. It's not my job to be a spoiler, and in this age of DVRs I know it's possible some of you may not have seen it yet.
The Sopranos remains one of the more real shows on television ever, regardless of all the mob stuff, thanks to this ending.
Yes, the ending was a little strange. I remember cocking an eyebrow at it (as much as I can, I'm not very good at that), but I like the way Chase left it up to you to decide how you want the show to end. I actually loved that part of it actually.
Finally, here's the thing, folks. Final episodes are NEVER satisfying. There's too much expectation. Imagine planning to have sex with someone for six months. The tension would build and build until the day actually arrives. Sorry, but that session or two sessions or whatever won't ever measure up to your expectation for that day. No payoff can match that anticipation. Let's face it, with any successful series, the "last episode" hype and all the plot buildups over the years, the anticipation builds to the point where we're expecting strawberry lube and bubble baths and 50 mirrors and silk sheets and Barry White not only playing but singing in the damn room with you both and maybe even a friend joining in and toys and a video camera replaying everything in slow-mo and possibly even a hair metal ballad or two.
And the last episode of any well-loved series is just that, the final payoff.
It never measures up. "Cheers" failed, "X-Files" sucked, "Seinfeld" sucked and "St. Elsewhere" was just weird (the whole hospital was just a snow globe in some autistic kid's head?). The only episode that lived up to it was "M.A.S.H." and that was just too easy because the show was about a war, and when the war ends, the series ends and everyone says goodbye. Easy-peasy and not a fair comparison.
"The Sopranos" managed to end the series while avoiding all the cliches and yet also resolved many things and hinted at the future. The rest is up to you.
What's wrong with that?
• • •
We saw "Pirates" 3 for Kate's birthday. Mom stayed home with the twins and also watched Jayden. Newborn twins and a toddler. Mom is now crowned champion babysitter of all time.
Maybe I'm biased because I actually got a see a movie in the theaters with my wife, an event that happens now about as often as I had a girlfriend in high school, but I didn't think it was as horrible as the critics say it was. It wasn't great. In fact it has plenty of holes. But it's a summer movie. Summer is the only time I lower my expectations for movies. Usually they are pretty sky high. So the movie met my lowered summer expectations. Barely, though.
• • •
So you all got to go to Vegas eh? I had an exciting weekend too. I grilled chicken on the barbecue with my brother, did three 3 a.m. feedings and changed about 20 diapers.
Jealous?
I thought so.
P.S. My second article
in a series I'm writing for Pokerworks is up. It's been great working for Linda and I hope it can continue.
And I'm not pissed off today.
Most fans of the show are, but not only have they forgotten what the show's about, they didn't really watch the show. I think they were too busy slobbering over whether Tony would get shot or go to jail or what what what and failed to see just how much this show actually did resolve.
I won't go into detail. It's not my job to be a spoiler, and in this age of DVRs I know it's possible some of you may not have seen it yet.
The Sopranos remains one of the more real shows on television ever, regardless of all the mob stuff, thanks to this ending.
Yes, the ending was a little strange. I remember cocking an eyebrow at it (as much as I can, I'm not very good at that), but I like the way Chase left it up to you to decide how you want the show to end. I actually loved that part of it actually.
Finally, here's the thing, folks. Final episodes are NEVER satisfying. There's too much expectation. Imagine planning to have sex with someone for six months. The tension would build and build until the day actually arrives. Sorry, but that session or two sessions or whatever won't ever measure up to your expectation for that day. No payoff can match that anticipation. Let's face it, with any successful series, the "last episode" hype and all the plot buildups over the years, the anticipation builds to the point where we're expecting strawberry lube and bubble baths and 50 mirrors and silk sheets and Barry White not only playing but singing in the damn room with you both and maybe even a friend joining in and toys and a video camera replaying everything in slow-mo and possibly even a hair metal ballad or two.
And the last episode of any well-loved series is just that, the final payoff.
It never measures up. "Cheers" failed, "X-Files" sucked, "Seinfeld" sucked and "St. Elsewhere" was just weird (the whole hospital was just a snow globe in some autistic kid's head?). The only episode that lived up to it was "M.A.S.H." and that was just too easy because the show was about a war, and when the war ends, the series ends and everyone says goodbye. Easy-peasy and not a fair comparison.
"The Sopranos" managed to end the series while avoiding all the cliches and yet also resolved many things and hinted at the future. The rest is up to you.
What's wrong with that?
• • •
We saw "Pirates" 3 for Kate's birthday. Mom stayed home with the twins and also watched Jayden. Newborn twins and a toddler. Mom is now crowned champion babysitter of all time.
Maybe I'm biased because I actually got a see a movie in the theaters with my wife, an event that happens now about as often as I had a girlfriend in high school, but I didn't think it was as horrible as the critics say it was. It wasn't great. In fact it has plenty of holes. But it's a summer movie. Summer is the only time I lower my expectations for movies. Usually they are pretty sky high. So the movie met my lowered summer expectations. Barely, though.
• • •
So you all got to go to Vegas eh? I had an exciting weekend too. I grilled chicken on the barbecue with my brother, did three 3 a.m. feedings and changed about 20 diapers.
Jealous?
I thought so.
P.S. My second article
in a series I'm writing for Pokerworks is up. It's been great working for Linda and I hope it can continue.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
A little bit of poker in my life
As you may have noticed, this is still a poker blog, but only in the technical sense.
I still write about poker, and I still play poker every night, and I still even consider myself a poker blogger.
But as you may also have noticed, when I'm writing these days, poker doesn't get near as many words as running or the twins or Jayden. There's a lot more there with a pair of newborn ladies and a toddler than writing about how I screwed up A,J in EP yet again and how I suffered yet another bad beat and poor me and I hate our government.
You have, after all, read all that before. Much more eloquently, in fact.
The last thing I do these days is offer poker advice. Let's face it. I'm a good player. I've never deposited past my initial foray of $200 in pokerroom.com (man, that was another world ago), and through a series of withdraws, I've funded Full Tilt, Poker Stars, Bodog and Ultimate Bet accounts from that initial $200. I'm one of the leaders on the Mookie board and won one this year.
But I'm hardly as good as many of you. My thinking rarely travels beyond third level. My highest level of cash games are $50 NL, and I'm currently enjoying three tables of UB at $25 NL. I still play low-level SnGs, and even those lately have sucked. I don't ever expect to win a MTT, and though I have a healthy bankroll, a win in the Full Tilt $26K would probably surpass it.
Yet here I go. If you think this tip is somewhat like trying to teach Miles Davis how to play the blues in B-flat, then by all means, have yourself a chuckle and skip over it. But it's a good tip, and it seems to play out again and again, without fail.
I have KK and $30 in front of me in a $25 NL game. I raise 3x, and I get one caller from a lady who has a $13 stack. She typically buys in short. This, as we'll see later, is important.
The flop is a decent one, Q,9,3, all rainbow. She has position on me, however, so I bet the pot, $2.
She smooth calls. At this point I'm not too worried. I suppose she could have J,10 or maybe a weak Q. She could also have a set but I can't worry about monsters just yet.
The turn is a harmless 2, and I bet $4.50 into the $6 pot. I wouldn't mind a call here but I don't want to give odds out either.
She pushes all in.
What's your move?
• • •
I don't mind it when other blogs make you wait for a day or so to get comments, but what I'm saying here isn't really all that amazing, and in many cases, it probably won't be much of a decision for many of you. So I'll continue here.
What do you think she had?
At that point I was fairly sure I knew what she had.
I put her on Q,J sooted, and that's what she flipped over when I called.
I was sure because of the tip that's coming, and it's a strange trend, in my mind, yet it plays out over and over and over, and I'd be willing to be it plays out at all but the highest levels.
When a player is on the short stack, they are far too willing to gamble with a marginal hand like top pair.
I know. "Wow, thanks Peaker. You're amazing. I'll bet you raise in EP with AA, too, don't you? You should write a book on poker stragety."
But here's the thing. This is a cash game, remember? It's not a tournament. And the "short stack" is relative. Let's say this was a tournament. With the blinds being .10/.25, her M is 37. That's hardly a time to be pushing with only a decent hand.
Yet what I've found, over and over, is if a stack has less than 60 percent of a buy-in, that person will gamble with anything, and usually that means top pair, weak kicker. Sometimes it even means a pair in their hand with overcards on the board, or it could also mean an overpair.
You should call these players more often than not if you have a good hand, but not a hand you would normally blow half your stack with, like just a pair with a great kicker or an overpair that can be beaten by higher overpairs. I doubt this is true at the higher levels, but at $25 NL up to $100 NL, this seems to be the case.
It really amazes me too. It seems like such a dumb play. Apparently there's a school of thought out there that OTHER players are going to be willing to gamble with much less, too, and I do think that's true. If she shoves with $40, totally covering me, I think twice before calling with KK, and unless I've got a good read on her (which I did in this case, she wasn't a good player), I fold.
Yet most of the time, what I've found is I wait for those players to make those mistakes and shove their stacks and I pick them off. I've made more money off these players than any other except for spiking sets or big hands with sooted connectors against a big overpair.
Reckless short stack cash game poker is rarely profitable, it seems to me. But if there are shortstack players who make money off this strategy, I'm willing to listen.
After all, as we've just seen, I'm no poker author.
I still write about poker, and I still play poker every night, and I still even consider myself a poker blogger.
But as you may also have noticed, when I'm writing these days, poker doesn't get near as many words as running or the twins or Jayden. There's a lot more there with a pair of newborn ladies and a toddler than writing about how I screwed up A,J in EP yet again and how I suffered yet another bad beat and poor me and I hate our government.
You have, after all, read all that before. Much more eloquently, in fact.
The last thing I do these days is offer poker advice. Let's face it. I'm a good player. I've never deposited past my initial foray of $200 in pokerroom.com (man, that was another world ago), and through a series of withdraws, I've funded Full Tilt, Poker Stars, Bodog and Ultimate Bet accounts from that initial $200. I'm one of the leaders on the Mookie board and won one this year.
But I'm hardly as good as many of you. My thinking rarely travels beyond third level. My highest level of cash games are $50 NL, and I'm currently enjoying three tables of UB at $25 NL. I still play low-level SnGs, and even those lately have sucked. I don't ever expect to win a MTT, and though I have a healthy bankroll, a win in the Full Tilt $26K would probably surpass it.
Yet here I go. If you think this tip is somewhat like trying to teach Miles Davis how to play the blues in B-flat, then by all means, have yourself a chuckle and skip over it. But it's a good tip, and it seems to play out again and again, without fail.
I have KK and $30 in front of me in a $25 NL game. I raise 3x, and I get one caller from a lady who has a $13 stack. She typically buys in short. This, as we'll see later, is important.
The flop is a decent one, Q,9,3, all rainbow. She has position on me, however, so I bet the pot, $2.
She smooth calls. At this point I'm not too worried. I suppose she could have J,10 or maybe a weak Q. She could also have a set but I can't worry about monsters just yet.
The turn is a harmless 2, and I bet $4.50 into the $6 pot. I wouldn't mind a call here but I don't want to give odds out either.
She pushes all in.
What's your move?
• • •
I don't mind it when other blogs make you wait for a day or so to get comments, but what I'm saying here isn't really all that amazing, and in many cases, it probably won't be much of a decision for many of you. So I'll continue here.
What do you think she had?
At that point I was fairly sure I knew what she had.
I put her on Q,J sooted, and that's what she flipped over when I called.
I was sure because of the tip that's coming, and it's a strange trend, in my mind, yet it plays out over and over and over, and I'd be willing to be it plays out at all but the highest levels.
When a player is on the short stack, they are far too willing to gamble with a marginal hand like top pair.
I know. "Wow, thanks Peaker. You're amazing. I'll bet you raise in EP with AA, too, don't you? You should write a book on poker stragety."
But here's the thing. This is a cash game, remember? It's not a tournament. And the "short stack" is relative. Let's say this was a tournament. With the blinds being .10/.25, her M is 37. That's hardly a time to be pushing with only a decent hand.
Yet what I've found, over and over, is if a stack has less than 60 percent of a buy-in, that person will gamble with anything, and usually that means top pair, weak kicker. Sometimes it even means a pair in their hand with overcards on the board, or it could also mean an overpair.
You should call these players more often than not if you have a good hand, but not a hand you would normally blow half your stack with, like just a pair with a great kicker or an overpair that can be beaten by higher overpairs. I doubt this is true at the higher levels, but at $25 NL up to $100 NL, this seems to be the case.
It really amazes me too. It seems like such a dumb play. Apparently there's a school of thought out there that OTHER players are going to be willing to gamble with much less, too, and I do think that's true. If she shoves with $40, totally covering me, I think twice before calling with KK, and unless I've got a good read on her (which I did in this case, she wasn't a good player), I fold.
Yet most of the time, what I've found is I wait for those players to make those mistakes and shove their stacks and I pick them off. I've made more money off these players than any other except for spiking sets or big hands with sooted connectors against a big overpair.
Reckless short stack cash game poker is rarely profitable, it seems to me. But if there are shortstack players who make money off this strategy, I'm willing to listen.
After all, as we've just seen, I'm no poker author.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
There ain't no cure for the post-race blues
Sunday I ran five miles.
Every step was a struggle.
I could barely maintain a 9-minute-mile pace when just a week ago I was running at 8:35 without much effort.
So what’s the difference?
One is that not sleeping as well as I should - two tiny girls have something to say about that for now - may be catching up to me.
Two is I gave blood a few days ago, and that’s literally robbing your system of oxygen. At sea level that’s a slight problem. At 5,000 feet that hurts.
Mostly, though, I’m suffering from something else.
We runners call it the post-race blues, and I think it pertains to my life, not just my running.
The Bolder/Boulder is a tough race, and my body is still feeling the effects of running hard for 50 minutes.
This, though, goes beyond effort.
Training for an event is a tricky thing when your main goal is to be fit for life. You start to see the race, the mountain, whatever, in your bathroom mirror in the morning. Skipping a workout doesn’t happen because of The Goal. You eat well, sleep well (if you can) and take care of yourself. You are focused.
And then the day comes, and then it’s over.
It’s impossible not to have a letdown.
I have other goals for the summer. I have Race for the Cure, a 5K, on July 4. I have another 10K, the Human Race, on July 28. I have several mountains I’ll be guiding this summer. But those goals are distant, and the sense of urgency isn’t there right now.
And that brings me to the twins.
A birth, especially this birth, was much like a race. We didn’t know the exact day, but we worked for it, and when it got here, we worked and worked and worked and ran and charged up hills and got up at 3 a.m. and changed a mountain of diapers.
And then, well, now we continue to do it.
Parenting doesn’t have a finish line. That doesn’t mean there aren’t any letdowns.
The girls have been so good, I’m nervously waiting for the other, Exorcist-like side, to come out. I’m wondering if they’re good only because Mom is here, and when she leaves, will chaos, instead of being kept on the sidelines, will charge off the bench. I’m wondering if I’ll be getting up at 3 a.m. for months, not weeks.
I’ve gotten an invitation to play a home game this weekend. I hope I can make it but I’m thinking I can’t. I haven’t had a good poker game with my buddies in at least a month. I haven’t even seen a movie with them. I miss them. I am wondering how long it will take for Kate to start to view our increasingly clingy and active toddler as Dennis the Menace and not our lovable little guy.
The grind, already, is getting to me a bit.
My poker game has reflected the post-race blues a bit, seesawing back and forth $25 up and down, and yet I still believe I’m playing well. I’m playing, I believe, better than ever, dumping two pairs and sets with abandon when its so obvious my opponent has drawn out on me (and that has happened FAR TOO MUCH lately). Yes, it’s possible my opponents are merely making moves on me, but this being $25 NL, I doubt it. You just don’t see it at that level. Every other time someone else has looked them up, they’ve got their third club or that made straight.
There are days when life gets drenched in the post-race blues. One thing I have learned.
It’s best to attempt to put on your running shoes, put the feet forward, and start churning away toward the next high.
So here I go.
Every step was a struggle.
I could barely maintain a 9-minute-mile pace when just a week ago I was running at 8:35 without much effort.
So what’s the difference?
One is that not sleeping as well as I should - two tiny girls have something to say about that for now - may be catching up to me.
Two is I gave blood a few days ago, and that’s literally robbing your system of oxygen. At sea level that’s a slight problem. At 5,000 feet that hurts.
Mostly, though, I’m suffering from something else.
We runners call it the post-race blues, and I think it pertains to my life, not just my running.
The Bolder/Boulder is a tough race, and my body is still feeling the effects of running hard for 50 minutes.
This, though, goes beyond effort.
Training for an event is a tricky thing when your main goal is to be fit for life. You start to see the race, the mountain, whatever, in your bathroom mirror in the morning. Skipping a workout doesn’t happen because of The Goal. You eat well, sleep well (if you can) and take care of yourself. You are focused.
And then the day comes, and then it’s over.
It’s impossible not to have a letdown.
I have other goals for the summer. I have Race for the Cure, a 5K, on July 4. I have another 10K, the Human Race, on July 28. I have several mountains I’ll be guiding this summer. But those goals are distant, and the sense of urgency isn’t there right now.
And that brings me to the twins.
A birth, especially this birth, was much like a race. We didn’t know the exact day, but we worked for it, and when it got here, we worked and worked and worked and ran and charged up hills and got up at 3 a.m. and changed a mountain of diapers.
And then, well, now we continue to do it.
Parenting doesn’t have a finish line. That doesn’t mean there aren’t any letdowns.
The girls have been so good, I’m nervously waiting for the other, Exorcist-like side, to come out. I’m wondering if they’re good only because Mom is here, and when she leaves, will chaos, instead of being kept on the sidelines, will charge off the bench. I’m wondering if I’ll be getting up at 3 a.m. for months, not weeks.
I’ve gotten an invitation to play a home game this weekend. I hope I can make it but I’m thinking I can’t. I haven’t had a good poker game with my buddies in at least a month. I haven’t even seen a movie with them. I miss them. I am wondering how long it will take for Kate to start to view our increasingly clingy and active toddler as Dennis the Menace and not our lovable little guy.
The grind, already, is getting to me a bit.
My poker game has reflected the post-race blues a bit, seesawing back and forth $25 up and down, and yet I still believe I’m playing well. I’m playing, I believe, better than ever, dumping two pairs and sets with abandon when its so obvious my opponent has drawn out on me (and that has happened FAR TOO MUCH lately). Yes, it’s possible my opponents are merely making moves on me, but this being $25 NL, I doubt it. You just don’t see it at that level. Every other time someone else has looked them up, they’ve got their third club or that made straight.
There are days when life gets drenched in the post-race blues. One thing I have learned.
It’s best to attempt to put on your running shoes, put the feet forward, and start churning away toward the next high.
So here I go.
Sunday, June 03, 2007
It's not my fault
You've probably already heard about the Cards at the World Series of Poker.
Those cards are Poker-P-E-E-K cards.
I am Poker-P-E-A-K-E-R.
P-E-E-K
P-E-A-K
See the difference?
Good.
In other news, I'm nearly as weary as you might think. The twins are still relatively easy-peasy and are basically sleeping through the night, albeit with some feedings and some 11 p.m. fussing, usually right when Daddy is planning to check-raise his set on a two-flush board.
They also seem to have a knack for shitting when we take the diaper OFF. Sweeties, you've got it backward. At least I think you do. Maybe you're doing it on purpose.
And Allie seems to have a knack for sensing my presense. She sleeps a lot but when I'm in charge of watching them, she pitches a fit and kinda makes it clear she wants to be held. So I hold her, and she looks up at me and whines occasionally until I talk to her.
Is this how it starts?
Ya know, I DO control your destiny right now, little ones. Perhaps you shouldn't toy with me.
Mom has been a Godsend here. I truly don't know how we're going to do it when she leaves in a few weeks.
Now that I'm strictly a cash game player - I haven't played an SnG in weeks, and I only make it out to the Mookie, where I finished a respectable 14th last week - I'm getting a little tired of the see-saw battle. I've been up to $700 on Ultimate Bet, where I'm mostly playing right now, and I've been down to $635 all last month. I would love to blame most of it on suckouts. And, yes, the suckouts have been horrific and plentiful (as an aside, I sure would like to suck out, but I have this darned knack to keep getting my money in ahead most of the time; how stupid of me). But I've also made the occasional stupid play that bumps me back a bit.
Last night I thought I played as well as I ever have and I finished $1 up. Sometimes it truly isn't about the results.
I'm also feeling weary after the 10K race and giving blood for the first time in a year (and, I suppose, not sleeping my full 8 every night). Time to get the energy back up. I need wings!
Those cards are Poker-P-E-E-K cards.
I am Poker-P-E-A-K-E-R.
P-E-E-K
P-E-A-K
See the difference?
Good.
In other news, I'm nearly as weary as you might think. The twins are still relatively easy-peasy and are basically sleeping through the night, albeit with some feedings and some 11 p.m. fussing, usually right when Daddy is planning to check-raise his set on a two-flush board.
They also seem to have a knack for shitting when we take the diaper OFF. Sweeties, you've got it backward. At least I think you do. Maybe you're doing it on purpose.
And Allie seems to have a knack for sensing my presense. She sleeps a lot but when I'm in charge of watching them, she pitches a fit and kinda makes it clear she wants to be held. So I hold her, and she looks up at me and whines occasionally until I talk to her.
Is this how it starts?
Ya know, I DO control your destiny right now, little ones. Perhaps you shouldn't toy with me.
Mom has been a Godsend here. I truly don't know how we're going to do it when she leaves in a few weeks.
Now that I'm strictly a cash game player - I haven't played an SnG in weeks, and I only make it out to the Mookie, where I finished a respectable 14th last week - I'm getting a little tired of the see-saw battle. I've been up to $700 on Ultimate Bet, where I'm mostly playing right now, and I've been down to $635 all last month. I would love to blame most of it on suckouts. And, yes, the suckouts have been horrific and plentiful (as an aside, I sure would like to suck out, but I have this darned knack to keep getting my money in ahead most of the time; how stupid of me). But I've also made the occasional stupid play that bumps me back a bit.
Last night I thought I played as well as I ever have and I finished $1 up. Sometimes it truly isn't about the results.
I'm also feeling weary after the 10K race and giving blood for the first time in a year (and, I suppose, not sleeping my full 8 every night). Time to get the energy back up. I need wings!
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Monday, May 28, 2007
Digging deep into the well
I ran 49 minutes in the Bolder/Boulder 10K Memorial Day race, or about a minute slower than what I wanted.
But that's OK. No one runs their best race at the Bolder/Boulder.
And my well of strength and reserve that I usually pull on to get me through the hard parts wasn't there as much as I needed today.
There were two reasons for this. One is what everyone faces: The Bolder/Boulder is a damn hard course, with hills piled upon hills, and the last two miles, a flat, downhill paradise compared to the middle three miles, ends with a steep, oh-my-God, quarter-mile hill that drains any hope you may have of finishing super strong.
After a while, facing that many hills, the well simply runs dry, no matter how hard you've trained.
The second reason is actually two reasons.
Yeah.
Allie, or lil' Miss Priss, as I have come to call her, decided that she would rather be awake and held from 9:30 p.m. until, oh, 1 a.m. last night. Then Andie took over for the rest of the night.
Ah, the joy of twins.
Kate, God Bless her, tried to do as much as she could, and Mom, who is here for a month, mopped up the rest, but it was still almost impossible to sleep. I slept, maybe, three hours before my biggest race of the year.
I hoped it would not affect my performance, but alas, as I charged up yet another hill, my legs felt as if they were wading in maple syrup. The hills had something to do with that. Not sleeping, I'm sure, had a lot to do with it.
A 10K is not a marathon like the 2007 World Series of Poker Main Event. It is not a 5K, either, like a turbo SnG. It's a race where you have to run hard for an hour. You're not running quite as hard as you would in a 5K, so you're not close to puking. And you're not running the distance that you do in a marathon or a half marathon, so you don't really suffer from exhausation. But you do get tired. And you do breath hard the whole race. Damn hard at times, especially when you're climbing those hills.
It's the perfect combination of speed and strength, and if the strength isn't there, the speed suffers a bit.
I found myself not caring a bit, a bad sign, around mile 4, as I huffed and puffed up another climb. That's when I knew the sleep, or lack of it, to be more precise, would hurt me more than I wanted.
I was able to attack the downhills and remain steady/fast on the straightaways, but I wasn't able to charge up the hills as much as I wanted.
Yet I still had a good race. Running 49 minutes still means I ran around a 7:50-per-mile pace. At altitude and over a tough course, that's pretty good. That got me somewhere in the top 3,500 out of 48,000 people entered. And I had a great time. It was nice to decompress these last wild two weeks.
But I do wonder if these little girls, along with the continued demand of Jayden, will ever prevent me from becoming an elite runner.
Then again, in the last half-mile, knowing that the race's toughest hill awaited, I was nearly spent. I wondered where I would find the strength to finish.
And I looked down at my bib and saw Jayden's face and the mugs of the two little girls who became a part of my life last week.
Those girls cost me in today's race.
I suppose it's only fair, then, that near the end, looking at their faces gave me the strength I needed to bring it home.
But that's OK. No one runs their best race at the Bolder/Boulder.
And my well of strength and reserve that I usually pull on to get me through the hard parts wasn't there as much as I needed today.
There were two reasons for this. One is what everyone faces: The Bolder/Boulder is a damn hard course, with hills piled upon hills, and the last two miles, a flat, downhill paradise compared to the middle three miles, ends with a steep, oh-my-God, quarter-mile hill that drains any hope you may have of finishing super strong.
After a while, facing that many hills, the well simply runs dry, no matter how hard you've trained.
The second reason is actually two reasons.
Yeah.
Allie, or lil' Miss Priss, as I have come to call her, decided that she would rather be awake and held from 9:30 p.m. until, oh, 1 a.m. last night. Then Andie took over for the rest of the night.
Ah, the joy of twins.
Kate, God Bless her, tried to do as much as she could, and Mom, who is here for a month, mopped up the rest, but it was still almost impossible to sleep. I slept, maybe, three hours before my biggest race of the year.
I hoped it would not affect my performance, but alas, as I charged up yet another hill, my legs felt as if they were wading in maple syrup. The hills had something to do with that. Not sleeping, I'm sure, had a lot to do with it.
A 10K is not a marathon like the 2007 World Series of Poker Main Event. It is not a 5K, either, like a turbo SnG. It's a race where you have to run hard for an hour. You're not running quite as hard as you would in a 5K, so you're not close to puking. And you're not running the distance that you do in a marathon or a half marathon, so you don't really suffer from exhausation. But you do get tired. And you do breath hard the whole race. Damn hard at times, especially when you're climbing those hills.
It's the perfect combination of speed and strength, and if the strength isn't there, the speed suffers a bit.
I found myself not caring a bit, a bad sign, around mile 4, as I huffed and puffed up another climb. That's when I knew the sleep, or lack of it, to be more precise, would hurt me more than I wanted.
I was able to attack the downhills and remain steady/fast on the straightaways, but I wasn't able to charge up the hills as much as I wanted.
Yet I still had a good race. Running 49 minutes still means I ran around a 7:50-per-mile pace. At altitude and over a tough course, that's pretty good. That got me somewhere in the top 3,500 out of 48,000 people entered. And I had a great time. It was nice to decompress these last wild two weeks.
But I do wonder if these little girls, along with the continued demand of Jayden, will ever prevent me from becoming an elite runner.
Then again, in the last half-mile, knowing that the race's toughest hill awaited, I was nearly spent. I wondered where I would find the strength to finish.
And I looked down at my bib and saw Jayden's face and the mugs of the two little girls who became a part of my life last week.
Those girls cost me in today's race.
I suppose it's only fair, then, that near the end, looking at their faces gave me the strength I needed to bring it home.
Friday, May 25, 2007
This week in pokerpeaker, my column and the mandatory "aww how cute" shot
Highlights of the week:
* Listening to Allie load her shorts a third time while being burped after consuming the adult caloric equivalent of four Burger King Whoppers, three Chicken McWhoppers and a truckload of fries.
* Having AA cracked with all the money in prelop by 10,7 when he caught his second 7 on the river. I am SO tired of getting in with the best of it and getting punished for it this month. At least my QQ is a healthy pair.
* Working the 3 a.m. feedings and realizing I only have 90 to go (ideally).
* Staring with longing at "Borat" as it arrived by Netflix yesterday and realizing I have no idea when I'll get to it.
* Running well and actually feeling great four days before the Bolder/Boulder, a 10K with 40,000 and probably my biggest race of the year.
* Knowing that grandma, my mother, is on her way for a month of extra hands. Who-hoo!
* Buying the new Megadeth and Ozzy albums and approving of them.
* Knowing also that it doesn't matter what I write here, people are only here to see the cute-as-buttons photo.
It's cool. They ARE pretty damn cute.
Here's the photos of the week:
Jayden. He came home from a playdate today and said, "Babies, babies, babies." He brought his footstool over to the bassinate and peered into it. There have been a couple more meltdowns than normal, but he also seems to be enjoying his big brother status.
The girls cuddling. Andie always has to snuggle next to her sister. Allie is the one with her eyes open. They seemed to really look around yesterday. It was as if they could really see for the first time:
As you might expect, I wrote a column for the Greeley Tribune a few hours after the girls were home. I've posted these in the past, so here it goes:
By Dan England
Tribune staff writer
People ask me what it takes to climb a mountain. It's a question with many answers, and most of them aren't in your control.
It takes a clear day free of thunderstorms. It takes a little sleep (but not a lot). It usually takes partners willing to suffer alongside you.
Most of all, though, for me, it took four words.
I Will Not Fail.
I Will Not Fail, repeated sometimes as often as my heart pounding through my fleece shirt, got me through many of the miseries mountains throw at you when you're attempting to reach their tops.
I Will Not Fail got me through wind that knocked me down like a playground bully, altitude sickness so bad that I puked on many trips even before I started and a deep layer of exhaustion that coated me like caramel on an apple.
It even got me through my worst day, when I got caught in a rock avalanche in Rocky Mountain National Park and spent 16 hours walking back to the car with Dad after the boulders pounded me into a bloody mess.
Now I face a new challenge.
I wonder what I can do to find the strength to bring twin girls into a safe, happy and healthy home.
Allie and Andie England were born Thursday, and I'm a proud, exhausted and happy father.
I'm also a little terrified.
Parenthood, to do it right, is a tough task, filled with endless squalls and bottles and diapers, all of it on much less sleep than you want or even need.
It is, in many ways I've found, like mountain climbing, in the sense that you've got a completely intimidating and daunting task in front of you, and you don't have much sleep in you to help you do it.
Those who have been there before, as we have with Jayden, who will turn 2 at the end of June, know what's ahead. In this case, with twins awaiting our care, along with a demanding toddler, ignorance may indeed have been bliss.
But every year I train for the mountains, and I've found that the running and lifting and preparing the gear gets me ready mentally as well as physically. It prepares you for the tough task ahead. It prepares you to push out the pain and let in the joy.
Kate went into labor twice, once at 32 weeks, before finally having what I now call my two little wonders of the world. And I believe that those incidents, along with painting the nursery pink, getting armfuls of pink clothes and staining our new wooden fence (not pink, thank God) may have helped prepare me.
I'm terrified. But I'm also at peace. Kind of.
The next time I see them, which will be in just a few hours, the next morning after the first day of their lives, I'll stare down at the two little 6-pound bundles (dressed in pink, probably) and gather myself for their first serious talk from Daddy.
I'll be honest with them, first and foremost. I'll tell them that Daddy wasn't sure about you two at first. Daddy, to be honest, still isn't completely sure. Daddy, in fact, may be more scared than you.
Then I'll tell them that they, along with Jayden, will be the toughest climb I've ever faced.
Finally, though, I'll kiss their heads and whisper something in their ear.
"Hello, little ones," I'll say. "I'm glad you're healthy. I'm glad you're here. I love you."
And I Will Not Fail.
* Listening to Allie load her shorts a third time while being burped after consuming the adult caloric equivalent of four Burger King Whoppers, three Chicken McWhoppers and a truckload of fries.
* Having AA cracked with all the money in prelop by 10,7 when he caught his second 7 on the river. I am SO tired of getting in with the best of it and getting punished for it this month. At least my QQ is a healthy pair.
* Working the 3 a.m. feedings and realizing I only have 90 to go (ideally).
* Staring with longing at "Borat" as it arrived by Netflix yesterday and realizing I have no idea when I'll get to it.
* Running well and actually feeling great four days before the Bolder/Boulder, a 10K with 40,000 and probably my biggest race of the year.
* Knowing that grandma, my mother, is on her way for a month of extra hands. Who-hoo!
* Buying the new Megadeth and Ozzy albums and approving of them.
* Knowing also that it doesn't matter what I write here, people are only here to see the cute-as-buttons photo.
It's cool. They ARE pretty damn cute.
Here's the photos of the week:
Jayden. He came home from a playdate today and said, "Babies, babies, babies." He brought his footstool over to the bassinate and peered into it. There have been a couple more meltdowns than normal, but he also seems to be enjoying his big brother status.
The girls cuddling. Andie always has to snuggle next to her sister. Allie is the one with her eyes open. They seemed to really look around yesterday. It was as if they could really see for the first time:
As you might expect, I wrote a column for the Greeley Tribune a few hours after the girls were home. I've posted these in the past, so here it goes:
By Dan England
Tribune staff writer
People ask me what it takes to climb a mountain. It's a question with many answers, and most of them aren't in your control.
It takes a clear day free of thunderstorms. It takes a little sleep (but not a lot). It usually takes partners willing to suffer alongside you.
Most of all, though, for me, it took four words.
I Will Not Fail.
I Will Not Fail, repeated sometimes as often as my heart pounding through my fleece shirt, got me through many of the miseries mountains throw at you when you're attempting to reach their tops.
I Will Not Fail got me through wind that knocked me down like a playground bully, altitude sickness so bad that I puked on many trips even before I started and a deep layer of exhaustion that coated me like caramel on an apple.
It even got me through my worst day, when I got caught in a rock avalanche in Rocky Mountain National Park and spent 16 hours walking back to the car with Dad after the boulders pounded me into a bloody mess.
Now I face a new challenge.
I wonder what I can do to find the strength to bring twin girls into a safe, happy and healthy home.
Allie and Andie England were born Thursday, and I'm a proud, exhausted and happy father.
I'm also a little terrified.
Parenthood, to do it right, is a tough task, filled with endless squalls and bottles and diapers, all of it on much less sleep than you want or even need.
It is, in many ways I've found, like mountain climbing, in the sense that you've got a completely intimidating and daunting task in front of you, and you don't have much sleep in you to help you do it.
Those who have been there before, as we have with Jayden, who will turn 2 at the end of June, know what's ahead. In this case, with twins awaiting our care, along with a demanding toddler, ignorance may indeed have been bliss.
But every year I train for the mountains, and I've found that the running and lifting and preparing the gear gets me ready mentally as well as physically. It prepares you for the tough task ahead. It prepares you to push out the pain and let in the joy.
Kate went into labor twice, once at 32 weeks, before finally having what I now call my two little wonders of the world. And I believe that those incidents, along with painting the nursery pink, getting armfuls of pink clothes and staining our new wooden fence (not pink, thank God) may have helped prepare me.
I'm terrified. But I'm also at peace. Kind of.
The next time I see them, which will be in just a few hours, the next morning after the first day of their lives, I'll stare down at the two little 6-pound bundles (dressed in pink, probably) and gather myself for their first serious talk from Daddy.
I'll be honest with them, first and foremost. I'll tell them that Daddy wasn't sure about you two at first. Daddy, to be honest, still isn't completely sure. Daddy, in fact, may be more scared than you.
Then I'll tell them that they, along with Jayden, will be the toughest climb I've ever faced.
Finally, though, I'll kiss their heads and whisper something in their ear.
"Hello, little ones," I'll say. "I'm glad you're healthy. I'm glad you're here. I love you."
And I Will Not Fail.
Monday, May 21, 2007
Out of the womb
I suppose I don't blame the twins for taking as long as they did to leave the womb. The womb, after all, is a pretty nice place.
There's food, shelter and no real danger.
Eventually, though, everyone has to leave.
And so we brought them home today.
Both of them.
(We tried to leave one for a few more days, to sort of break us back into infant parenting, but the nurses wouldn't go for it).
As any infant is forced out of the womb by push, yank or, in our case, cut, something strange happens. The parents enter a womb.
The womb is the hospital, and it, like a uterus, is a pretty nice place. There's good, cheap, healthy food via room service or a quick trip to the cafeteria. There's shelter from life, really, as an unlimited supply of diapers, wipes and formula (or breastfeeding support; we took advantage of both) is only a reach away. Help from nurses is also only a moment's notice away as well. Most of all, there's no real danger. There's no danger of a sleepless night because you can take the babies to the nursery. There's no real danger of pulling your hair out when the babies just won't stop crying because the nurses are there to take over (or the dozens of visitors are there to take the baby). There's no real danger of the baby dying, and that irrational fear alone will burn a hole in parents' stomachs. Believe me, there was many a night when I stood over Jayden's crib and relaxed only after I saw his chest rise and fall a few times.
Outside the womb, all these things lurk just behind the cute outfits, cute poops and cute cuddles. And life tends to get thrown in there too. Like, say, your job. And all the stupid little things that we have to do, like laundry (which increases with babies) and cleaning (ditto) and making dinner. Many of these things are ruled by people who don't work on infant time and could care less that you have 20 minutes to race back to the house before your wife needs your help feeding a twin. Just the other day, taking care of a sinus infection (in that wonderful timing that life enjoys throwing at you) meant spending two hours at an "urgent" (ha) care clinic, then waiting an hour while the dumbfawkers at Wal-Mart stopping mouth-breathing long enough to fill my prescription in one of the worst cases of customer service I have ever seen.
But when Wal-Mart decided to lose a prescription customer, we were in the womb of the hospital, so it didn't matter that much.
Now we're out.
We've been lucky. We've had so many people help us. Twins do have an advantage in the sense that even those who would rather be strapped to headphones and forced to listen to recordings of goats humping, fingernails on a chalkboard and Celine Dion than have children understand that twins are tough. We've had more outfits than Baby Gap's spring catalouge dumped on us. We've got enough diapers to start our own store (look out, Wal-Mart), and just the other day my neighbor mowed my lawn for me, without me asking and even though I've been there four months and already managed to splatter the side of his garage while I stained my fence during a windy day. Every Tuesday one of Kate's co-workers fixes us dinner. My co-workers are planning to ship dinners as well.
We're hardly rich, but it's a nice start.
And Allie and Andie, so far, have been easy-peasy. I know there will be nights - and Allie already screamed bloody murder for 10 minutes before Kate finished pumping and we gave her the sweet, sweet gold - but so far, so good. So very, very good. Our doctor today said they've been healthier than many singletons.
Twins power, activate!
I'm lucky to have such a superstar of a mom for a wife. She's already pumping more milk than most dairy cows and has remained in good spirits despite a painful C-section and a touch of the blues (she had her first "I don't know why I'm crying" episode tonight).
We're out of the womb now, and we feel what I"m sure Allie and Andie felt as they were taken out of the uterus: A little scared, a little unsure and a little dazed.
But they're also looking around at all the new experiences with a little bit of wonder.
So are we.
After all, the world outside the womb can be a pretty nice place too.
P.S. I got an article published at Poker Works, ironically enough the first in a series on learning how to play poker while raising babies. Linda wrote a nice article about our birth, as did CC.
And I can't thank everyone enough for all your comments. It was so nice to see all of the support. I'll need it in these next few weeks, even if I'm not around as much as I'd like to be (the Mookie, for instance, is out for now). I"ll keep up as much as I can in these next few weeks and thanks.
AND NOW FOR SOME PHOTOS!!!!!
ANOTHER shot of the twins as they start to wake up from post-womb hibernation:
They naturally gravitate toward each other. I swear this is not a pose:
Jayden holding a sister (I'm not sure which one):
We found the house decorated when we got back. Outside the womb seems colorful and friendly. We just hope it continues!
There's food, shelter and no real danger.
Eventually, though, everyone has to leave.
And so we brought them home today.
Both of them.
(We tried to leave one for a few more days, to sort of break us back into infant parenting, but the nurses wouldn't go for it).
As any infant is forced out of the womb by push, yank or, in our case, cut, something strange happens. The parents enter a womb.
The womb is the hospital, and it, like a uterus, is a pretty nice place. There's good, cheap, healthy food via room service or a quick trip to the cafeteria. There's shelter from life, really, as an unlimited supply of diapers, wipes and formula (or breastfeeding support; we took advantage of both) is only a reach away. Help from nurses is also only a moment's notice away as well. Most of all, there's no real danger. There's no danger of a sleepless night because you can take the babies to the nursery. There's no real danger of pulling your hair out when the babies just won't stop crying because the nurses are there to take over (or the dozens of visitors are there to take the baby). There's no real danger of the baby dying, and that irrational fear alone will burn a hole in parents' stomachs. Believe me, there was many a night when I stood over Jayden's crib and relaxed only after I saw his chest rise and fall a few times.
Outside the womb, all these things lurk just behind the cute outfits, cute poops and cute cuddles. And life tends to get thrown in there too. Like, say, your job. And all the stupid little things that we have to do, like laundry (which increases with babies) and cleaning (ditto) and making dinner. Many of these things are ruled by people who don't work on infant time and could care less that you have 20 minutes to race back to the house before your wife needs your help feeding a twin. Just the other day, taking care of a sinus infection (in that wonderful timing that life enjoys throwing at you) meant spending two hours at an "urgent" (ha) care clinic, then waiting an hour while the dumbfawkers at Wal-Mart stopping mouth-breathing long enough to fill my prescription in one of the worst cases of customer service I have ever seen.
But when Wal-Mart decided to lose a prescription customer, we were in the womb of the hospital, so it didn't matter that much.
Now we're out.
We've been lucky. We've had so many people help us. Twins do have an advantage in the sense that even those who would rather be strapped to headphones and forced to listen to recordings of goats humping, fingernails on a chalkboard and Celine Dion than have children understand that twins are tough. We've had more outfits than Baby Gap's spring catalouge dumped on us. We've got enough diapers to start our own store (look out, Wal-Mart), and just the other day my neighbor mowed my lawn for me, without me asking and even though I've been there four months and already managed to splatter the side of his garage while I stained my fence during a windy day. Every Tuesday one of Kate's co-workers fixes us dinner. My co-workers are planning to ship dinners as well.
We're hardly rich, but it's a nice start.
And Allie and Andie, so far, have been easy-peasy. I know there will be nights - and Allie already screamed bloody murder for 10 minutes before Kate finished pumping and we gave her the sweet, sweet gold - but so far, so good. So very, very good. Our doctor today said they've been healthier than many singletons.
Twins power, activate!
I'm lucky to have such a superstar of a mom for a wife. She's already pumping more milk than most dairy cows and has remained in good spirits despite a painful C-section and a touch of the blues (she had her first "I don't know why I'm crying" episode tonight).
We're out of the womb now, and we feel what I"m sure Allie and Andie felt as they were taken out of the uterus: A little scared, a little unsure and a little dazed.
But they're also looking around at all the new experiences with a little bit of wonder.
So are we.
After all, the world outside the womb can be a pretty nice place too.
P.S. I got an article published at Poker Works, ironically enough the first in a series on learning how to play poker while raising babies. Linda wrote a nice article about our birth, as did CC.
And I can't thank everyone enough for all your comments. It was so nice to see all of the support. I'll need it in these next few weeks, even if I'm not around as much as I'd like to be (the Mookie, for instance, is out for now). I"ll keep up as much as I can in these next few weeks and thanks.
AND NOW FOR SOME PHOTOS!!!!!
ANOTHER shot of the twins as they start to wake up from post-womb hibernation:
They naturally gravitate toward each other. I swear this is not a pose:
Jayden holding a sister (I'm not sure which one):
We found the house decorated when we got back. Outside the womb seems colorful and friendly. We just hope it continues!
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Born, born and reborn
It's now 10:45 p.m., and Day One of my daughter's lives is only a few hours old.
My new life is as well.
The streets are nearly empty of cars, the street lights flood even the darkest parts of Greeley, and the traffic signals turn green even before I stop as I approach. Most sleep in preparation for Friday, the best day of the week, to be sure, but still another workday.
It's peaceful.
It's exactly how I feel inside.
It's also exactly the opposite of how I felt just a few hours ago.
• • •
We went into the doc's on edge and, I'm sorry to say now, ready for battle. Kate had had enough, after yet another sleepless night (I barely got a few myself). One of the twins was in her ribs, she could barely breathe, and she was tired of lugging around two babies.
But our doctor, after checking Kate and finding out that she was essentially halfway there, agreed with our pleas and checked Kate into the hospital.
It was time, she agreed.
Two hours later, after dropping off softball equipment for our team at a friend's house (priorities, of course) and posting (priorities again), we were in the hospital, and doc broke Kate's water. We hung around for another two hours after a nice little ole thing we call an epidural (I prefer to call it heaven). Suddenly Kate was ready to go, and that's when the shortest half hour of my life, coupled with the longest two minutes of my life, happened.
"She's at 10."
"Dan, put these scrubs on. We're headed to the OR."
"Uh, OK."
"Go, go go."
It was another 10 minutes when Kate was prepared to deliever and our doc suddenly sent me away.
"Baby B is deaccelerating. I have to do a C-section. Dan you have to step outside."
• • •
So I sat outside the doors, calm as can be on the outside, while my stomach did the Tango.
The clock slowed to a crawl.
All I knew was one of my daughters was having trouble and they were preparing to carve up Kate like she was the roast beast at Christmas. And so I waited.
And waited.
It was only two mintues, but when a nurse came back for me, I sprinted to the OR and found two squaling girls on the side.
Oh.
Wow.
OK.
"Which one is the boy?"
Um...
"No, wait, they're both girls."
Heh. I almost fainted.
• • •
So there they were, and I really thought that this time wouldn't be nearly as weird, now that I've had a baby under my belt, but seeing two of them there was...um....I still dont' know how to describe it.
It didn't hit me until I carried both of them back to Kate in the recovery room. It would be the second time she would see them.
Holy shit, I thought. My arms are full.
(We've already heard "You've got your hands full" at least 15 times, and we haven't even left the damn hospital. Oh and once I looked up and saw, literally, 25 people crowded around the window staring at my babies. Yes, there are two. Now please go away).
My arms are full, my hands are full, and my life is full now. It will almost be too much.
Almost.
Jayden seemed really excited about his sisters, and while I know it won't always be that way, it was really nice to see him smile at his two girls.
Kate was so relieved despite just being carved open a few hours ago. She feels good. It's her last labor. I can tell she's really happy.
As for me, I am at peace, and I'm not sure I expected that feeling. Maybe this was hanging over my head more than I realized.
Or maybe I'm ready for it. Maybe I'm ready for the chaos and the joy and the exhaustation I'll surely feel these next few months.
Maybe I'm ready for my new life.
Day one of their lives is only a few hours old.
Day two of my own starts tommorow.
Kate moments after they were born:
And say hello to Andie and Allie. Allie was 6 pds., 1 oz. Andie was 5 pds., 13 ozs. They look good, they just ate well, they are breathing even better and the doctor does not think they will need any time in the NICU.
Allie is the one on the left. I think.
P.S. They look identical, don't they? Even trained baby nurses have a hard time telling them apart. Maybe I'm being ghey, but I have to admit this excites me to no end.
My new life is as well.
The streets are nearly empty of cars, the street lights flood even the darkest parts of Greeley, and the traffic signals turn green even before I stop as I approach. Most sleep in preparation for Friday, the best day of the week, to be sure, but still another workday.
It's peaceful.
It's exactly how I feel inside.
It's also exactly the opposite of how I felt just a few hours ago.
• • •
We went into the doc's on edge and, I'm sorry to say now, ready for battle. Kate had had enough, after yet another sleepless night (I barely got a few myself). One of the twins was in her ribs, she could barely breathe, and she was tired of lugging around two babies.
But our doctor, after checking Kate and finding out that she was essentially halfway there, agreed with our pleas and checked Kate into the hospital.
It was time, she agreed.
Two hours later, after dropping off softball equipment for our team at a friend's house (priorities, of course) and posting (priorities again), we were in the hospital, and doc broke Kate's water. We hung around for another two hours after a nice little ole thing we call an epidural (I prefer to call it heaven). Suddenly Kate was ready to go, and that's when the shortest half hour of my life, coupled with the longest two minutes of my life, happened.
"She's at 10."
"Dan, put these scrubs on. We're headed to the OR."
"Uh, OK."
"Go, go go."
It was another 10 minutes when Kate was prepared to deliever and our doc suddenly sent me away.
"Baby B is deaccelerating. I have to do a C-section. Dan you have to step outside."
• • •
So I sat outside the doors, calm as can be on the outside, while my stomach did the Tango.
The clock slowed to a crawl.
All I knew was one of my daughters was having trouble and they were preparing to carve up Kate like she was the roast beast at Christmas. And so I waited.
And waited.
It was only two mintues, but when a nurse came back for me, I sprinted to the OR and found two squaling girls on the side.
Oh.
Wow.
OK.
"Which one is the boy?"
Um...
"No, wait, they're both girls."
Heh. I almost fainted.
• • •
So there they were, and I really thought that this time wouldn't be nearly as weird, now that I've had a baby under my belt, but seeing two of them there was...um....I still dont' know how to describe it.
It didn't hit me until I carried both of them back to Kate in the recovery room. It would be the second time she would see them.
Holy shit, I thought. My arms are full.
(We've already heard "You've got your hands full" at least 15 times, and we haven't even left the damn hospital. Oh and once I looked up and saw, literally, 25 people crowded around the window staring at my babies. Yes, there are two. Now please go away).
My arms are full, my hands are full, and my life is full now. It will almost be too much.
Almost.
Jayden seemed really excited about his sisters, and while I know it won't always be that way, it was really nice to see him smile at his two girls.
Kate was so relieved despite just being carved open a few hours ago. She feels good. It's her last labor. I can tell she's really happy.
As for me, I am at peace, and I'm not sure I expected that feeling. Maybe this was hanging over my head more than I realized.
Or maybe I'm ready for it. Maybe I'm ready for the chaos and the joy and the exhaustation I'll surely feel these next few months.
Maybe I'm ready for my new life.
Day one of their lives is only a few hours old.
Day two of my own starts tommorow.
Kate moments after they were born:
And say hello to Andie and Allie. Allie was 6 pds., 1 oz. Andie was 5 pds., 13 ozs. They look good, they just ate well, they are breathing even better and the doctor does not think they will need any time in the NICU.
Allie is the one on the left. I think.
P.S. They look identical, don't they? Even trained baby nurses have a hard time telling them apart. Maybe I'm being ghey, but I have to admit this excites me to no end.
Stirrings, Part II (This time it's for real)
Doc just stripped Kate's membranes and that seems to have gotten her going like a house o fire.
We are headed to the hospital as we speak. If it doesn't work, she will break Kate's water.
Long story short: We're having those babies today.
We are headed to the hospital as we speak. If it doesn't work, she will break Kate's water.
Long story short: We're having those babies today.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Tagged by CC (and I didn't know it until I already posted)
You get two posts on a Sunday. Don't let it go to your head.
CC over at Quest of a Closet Poker Player tagged me, so here are seven random and little-known facts about myself.
1. I'm having twin girls.
HA HA HA HA HA. Just kidding. I know as much as I've blogged about this that everyone on planet Earth, and maybe some on that new planet that seems able to hold life, knows that.
(Edit: Upon re-reading this, I just realized what an arrogant comment that is. Yeah, EVERYONE on planet Earth reads your blog, Dan. Come on. I have maybe, maybe, 35 regular readers, and that's just on bloglines, so it really could be a lot less).
OK, seriously:
1. I'm not sure if I ever wrote about this, but I played enough trombone in college to probably major in it. I was in the basketball band at the University of Kansas and played in its jazz ensembles. I was one of the better players (you have to be to make the men's basketball band, which gets to travel to the tournaments with the team), but I wasn't one of the top players. I played when I worked in Salina in the symphony and a funk band there and played for five years in a Greeley swing band before finally giving it up after Jayden was born two years ago.
2. I had braces three times, including a year in college, which was awesome. The third time I had clear braces, so at least I didn't look 15. I really hope Jayden doesn't get my jaw.
3. I was such a geek in the seventh grade that I was teased all the time. Not fighting back more is my biggest regret today, and it's probably why I can be difficult, even an asshole at times. I don't want to ever feel like I didn't fight for myself ever again. Unfortunately this affected my relationship with my little brother, resulting in me treating him like shit for many years (biggest regret number two), but we're close now.
4. I could give up alcohol, candy or any kind of dessert, really (peanut butter pie might be tough), but I don't think I could give up queso and chips. It's my favorite food and my biggest weakness.
5. I always have to keep busy. I can't just sit around and chill, unless I"m reading a book or watching a movie because then I'm "doing something." While this has helped me accomplish a great deal, it's probably prevented me from smelling the roses and just enjoying the quiet moments.
6. I am a bleeding-heart, pinko liberal because I believe in personal freedoms more than any other value I hold dear. Yet as I begin to raise children I worry about the choices they would make and almost would prefer to make them myself. Isn't that a contradiction?
7. And if you didn't get the idea that I love the mountains, I named my dog Denali after the highest peak in North America. Despite this, I've almost died three times in the mountains. In fact, me not dying in each of those situations is something like hitting a two-outer in poker. I've been lucky. This has led me to question why I continue to climb when I now have kids, and I don't have a really good answer. This is one reason why I'm embracing running as I hope it will fill the void as I continue to cut back.
Tagged (and I apologize if I tagged someone who's already been tagged; finding those who haven't was harder than I thought)
Drizz
Stacie the twins queen
Chipper
Iakaris
Katitude
Iron Girl
Love Elf
JJok
CC over at Quest of a Closet Poker Player tagged me, so here are seven random and little-known facts about myself.
1. I'm having twin girls.
HA HA HA HA HA. Just kidding. I know as much as I've blogged about this that everyone on planet Earth, and maybe some on that new planet that seems able to hold life, knows that.
(Edit: Upon re-reading this, I just realized what an arrogant comment that is. Yeah, EVERYONE on planet Earth reads your blog, Dan. Come on. I have maybe, maybe, 35 regular readers, and that's just on bloglines, so it really could be a lot less).
OK, seriously:
1. I'm not sure if I ever wrote about this, but I played enough trombone in college to probably major in it. I was in the basketball band at the University of Kansas and played in its jazz ensembles. I was one of the better players (you have to be to make the men's basketball band, which gets to travel to the tournaments with the team), but I wasn't one of the top players. I played when I worked in Salina in the symphony and a funk band there and played for five years in a Greeley swing band before finally giving it up after Jayden was born two years ago.
2. I had braces three times, including a year in college, which was awesome. The third time I had clear braces, so at least I didn't look 15. I really hope Jayden doesn't get my jaw.
3. I was such a geek in the seventh grade that I was teased all the time. Not fighting back more is my biggest regret today, and it's probably why I can be difficult, even an asshole at times. I don't want to ever feel like I didn't fight for myself ever again. Unfortunately this affected my relationship with my little brother, resulting in me treating him like shit for many years (biggest regret number two), but we're close now.
4. I could give up alcohol, candy or any kind of dessert, really (peanut butter pie might be tough), but I don't think I could give up queso and chips. It's my favorite food and my biggest weakness.
5. I always have to keep busy. I can't just sit around and chill, unless I"m reading a book or watching a movie because then I'm "doing something." While this has helped me accomplish a great deal, it's probably prevented me from smelling the roses and just enjoying the quiet moments.
6. I am a bleeding-heart, pinko liberal because I believe in personal freedoms more than any other value I hold dear. Yet as I begin to raise children I worry about the choices they would make and almost would prefer to make them myself. Isn't that a contradiction?
7. And if you didn't get the idea that I love the mountains, I named my dog Denali after the highest peak in North America. Despite this, I've almost died three times in the mountains. In fact, me not dying in each of those situations is something like hitting a two-outer in poker. I've been lucky. This has led me to question why I continue to climb when I now have kids, and I don't have a really good answer. This is one reason why I'm embracing running as I hope it will fill the void as I continue to cut back.
Tagged (and I apologize if I tagged someone who's already been tagged; finding those who haven't was harder than I thought)
Drizz
Stacie the twins queen
Chipper
Iakaris
Katitude
Iron Girl
Love Elf
JJok
Pocket Pair Problem
After being within a gnat's wig of puking, I learned not to eat a huge bowl of cereal before my first 5K.
After nursing a horrible headache and barely making the peak, I learned that drinking a lot before a big mountain was probably not a good idea.
And after dealing with a mess that I have not yet fully recovered from, even months later, I've learned not to feed a baby prunes.
Why, then, can't I learn how to play pocket pairs like a maniac?
Actually, I have learned how to play them well. I've learned to be aggressive with them but fold them when necessary. Just not all the time.
Last night I shoved with AA and not only my profit for the night but my stack along with it. The one mistake wiped out three solid hours of cash profit and left me in the red for the night.
I misplayed the hand several ways. I did not re-raise enough before the flop and got two callers. Then I raised on the flop, and two called me. The board was harmless and uncoordinated, and yet I chose to ignore the red flag that the calls should have sent up. When a K hit the turn, I shoved and a guy with a set of 8s happily called me after betting .25 into a $10 flop (which screamed "please don't go away").
It's such a horrible play - I was hoping both of them had QQ? - that I won't go into it too much.
What I'm wondering is what it is about pocket pairs that continue to be so tempting?
I do such a great job of folding them 9/10 times, but it's that one time that can wipe out all the efforts of the other 9. That's No Limit Hold 'Em, and that's why the game is so great.
I know I've made more money off others' pocket pairs than any other hand. They are why I win.
But I think I've probably lost more off them either.
Oh, and speaking of a pair, after 37 weeks, Kate has decided that she wants to remain pregnant forever.
Ha, ha, ha, just kidding honey.
Ow!
I really feel sorry for her at this point. I'd be a ROYAL bitch if I was carrying around 13 pounds of girls who have decided that they would rather not come out until, say, August. Instead her spirits remain high, although they are wavering. Kate started growling at a car ahead of us because she didn't pull out screaming and tires smoking the instant the light turned green.
Yes, it's the anticipation that makes Christmas so great, but you wouldn't like it either if they brought out the Christmas trees in July and told you that new blue tricycle would be there for you in just a few days.
And, of course, if you had to GIVE BIRTH to the tricycle.
P.S. Congrats to Ryan on his little one. What a doll.
After nursing a horrible headache and barely making the peak, I learned that drinking a lot before a big mountain was probably not a good idea.
And after dealing with a mess that I have not yet fully recovered from, even months later, I've learned not to feed a baby prunes.
Why, then, can't I learn how to play pocket pairs like a maniac?
Actually, I have learned how to play them well. I've learned to be aggressive with them but fold them when necessary. Just not all the time.
Last night I shoved with AA and not only my profit for the night but my stack along with it. The one mistake wiped out three solid hours of cash profit and left me in the red for the night.
I misplayed the hand several ways. I did not re-raise enough before the flop and got two callers. Then I raised on the flop, and two called me. The board was harmless and uncoordinated, and yet I chose to ignore the red flag that the calls should have sent up. When a K hit the turn, I shoved and a guy with a set of 8s happily called me after betting .25 into a $10 flop (which screamed "please don't go away").
It's such a horrible play - I was hoping both of them had QQ? - that I won't go into it too much.
What I'm wondering is what it is about pocket pairs that continue to be so tempting?
I do such a great job of folding them 9/10 times, but it's that one time that can wipe out all the efforts of the other 9. That's No Limit Hold 'Em, and that's why the game is so great.
I know I've made more money off others' pocket pairs than any other hand. They are why I win.
But I think I've probably lost more off them either.
Oh, and speaking of a pair, after 37 weeks, Kate has decided that she wants to remain pregnant forever.
Ha, ha, ha, just kidding honey.
Ow!
I really feel sorry for her at this point. I'd be a ROYAL bitch if I was carrying around 13 pounds of girls who have decided that they would rather not come out until, say, August. Instead her spirits remain high, although they are wavering. Kate started growling at a car ahead of us because she didn't pull out screaming and tires smoking the instant the light turned green.
Yes, it's the anticipation that makes Christmas so great, but you wouldn't like it either if they brought out the Christmas trees in July and told you that new blue tricycle would be there for you in just a few days.
And, of course, if you had to GIVE BIRTH to the tricycle.
P.S. Congrats to Ryan on his little one. What a doll.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Are they here yet?
Despite the fact that we've/I:
• Played a wild afternoon cash game that saw a guy gather up 10xs the buy in and then lose half of it in one hand (I finished four buy-ins ahead)...
• Walked 500 miles and will walk 500 more...
• Played with Jayden in the sun and warm weather all day...
• Tried having...um...never mind.....
• Ate some spicy burritos.....
• Begged the doctor to strip her membranes (maybe next week, she said)....
• Tried to talk the girls into coming out....
• Invested $3 into a $1 rebuy blogger tourney Friday and donked out in two hands after an hour and a half of thrills and chills....
• Asked Kate if she's had a contraction every five minutes....
• Am going nuts here.....
• Are at 37 weeks.....
STILL NO BABIES.
Sigh.
• Played a wild afternoon cash game that saw a guy gather up 10xs the buy in and then lose half of it in one hand (I finished four buy-ins ahead)...
• Walked 500 miles and will walk 500 more...
• Played with Jayden in the sun and warm weather all day...
• Tried having...um...never mind.....
• Ate some spicy burritos.....
• Begged the doctor to strip her membranes (maybe next week, she said)....
• Tried to talk the girls into coming out....
• Invested $3 into a $1 rebuy blogger tourney Friday and donked out in two hands after an hour and a half of thrills and chills....
• Asked Kate if she's had a contraction every five minutes....
• Am going nuts here.....
• Are at 37 weeks.....
STILL NO BABIES.
Sigh.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
In the greatest upset since, um, Golden State v. Dallas...
Yes, it's only third, but this is HORSE we're talking about here. I didn't even know why all the chips were being shipped my way once.
Stud was good to me, I played Razz well, sucked out in Hold Em once and survived Omaha and Stud Hi/Lo.
And I beat Drizz in a last-longer bet. Even if it WAS a turbo, and even if Drizz did suffer perhaps the worst suckout I've ever seen in hold 'em, if me beating him in HORSE in a last-longer bet isn't the upset of the century, I don't know what is. Maybe that hockey thing against the Russians.
This may be my last Mookie event for a while — and I will miss it dearly, even if it is just until the twins learn how to sleep through the night (they HAVE to be here by next week or Kate may just kill me) — so this was a nice way to say goodbye for a bit. Just as I've been suffering a long dry spell with my tournament game too.
Maybe this is a good omen.
Let's hope so.
As it pertains to poker AND babies!
P.S. Oh and I had the honor of talking to Iakaris via cell phone last night. He's in Denver and I was apologizing for not going out there to see him. I would like to keep my marriage whole and frying-pan free, so I don't dare ask, especially because I just know THAT'S when they would come.
I gave him a scouting report about our 2/5 limit poker game here in Colorado (can't wait to see THAT post) and got to visit with him a bit.
I figured he would sound like an intelligent, snooty guy, but he sounded pretty regular. Even almost young, like he was a college dude or something. I can't wait to meet him. December!
Conversations I've had in the past few days
Brotherpeaker: "Anything?"
Pokerpeaker: "No."
Pp: (Asked last night at 9:30 p.m.) "Have you had any lately?"
Kate: "Yes, I've had several in the last hour."
Pp: "Are they regular?"
Kate: "No."
(Wait two minutes)
Pp: "Have you had one?"
Kate: "You're going to drive me nuts. Is that your goal?"
Pp: (meekly) "no."
Co-workers, asked throughout the day at least 85 times: "Any babies yet?"
What I say: "I'm still here aren't I?" (fake laugh)
What I would like to say: "Please fuck off."
Kate: (POW) Punches husband in the arm.
Pp: "Ow! Jesus! What was that for?"
Kate: "Because I felt like it."
(Late last night)
Pp: "Any word?"
Kate: "They died down when I went to bed."
Pp: "Sigh."
POKER CONTENT:
I'm reading Sklansky's and Miller's "No Limit Hold 'em: Theory and Practice." In some ways I really love it, given that there are some ideas and practices that I wasn't considering or was considering but didn't really know it and why until now. That's rare in a poker book these days.
But I'm also struggling with all the math. Math really isn't my thing. I'm a writer. In fact, a funny, quick story. I could read and write before I entered Kindergarten. I even gave a report on Mexico that won some Best of Show award from a science fair. Anyway, school officials tested me, thinking I might be a genius, and I failed so badly at the math portion that they just said, "never mind." So I'm not a genius, I guess, it's just that all my brain cells that were supposed to go to math also went to English.
I can figure pot odds, percentages (thanks to Gordon's rule of 4 and 2) and that sort of thing, but Sklansky's math is deep, complex and, for me, difficult.
I'm doing my best to absorb the concepts, and not the math so much, of the book, and it's working pretty well.
But my question is, how much math do we really need to be a great player? Am I selling myself short? I'm happy, quite honestly, being a winning player at the $25 NL and $50 NL levels with occasional dabbling in the $100 NL. I hope to win a large MTT someday but don't expect big scores all the time. So do I need all that math?
See you at the Mookie tonight. Maybe.
Pokerpeaker: "No."
Pp: (Asked last night at 9:30 p.m.) "Have you had any lately?"
Kate: "Yes, I've had several in the last hour."
Pp: "Are they regular?"
Kate: "No."
(Wait two minutes)
Pp: "Have you had one?"
Kate: "You're going to drive me nuts. Is that your goal?"
Pp: (meekly) "no."
Co-workers, asked throughout the day at least 85 times: "Any babies yet?"
What I say: "I'm still here aren't I?" (fake laugh)
What I would like to say: "Please fuck off."
Kate: (POW) Punches husband in the arm.
Pp: "Ow! Jesus! What was that for?"
Kate: "Because I felt like it."
(Late last night)
Pp: "Any word?"
Kate: "They died down when I went to bed."
Pp: "Sigh."
POKER CONTENT:
I'm reading Sklansky's and Miller's "No Limit Hold 'em: Theory and Practice." In some ways I really love it, given that there are some ideas and practices that I wasn't considering or was considering but didn't really know it and why until now. That's rare in a poker book these days.
But I'm also struggling with all the math. Math really isn't my thing. I'm a writer. In fact, a funny, quick story. I could read and write before I entered Kindergarten. I even gave a report on Mexico that won some Best of Show award from a science fair. Anyway, school officials tested me, thinking I might be a genius, and I failed so badly at the math portion that they just said, "never mind." So I'm not a genius, I guess, it's just that all my brain cells that were supposed to go to math also went to English.
I can figure pot odds, percentages (thanks to Gordon's rule of 4 and 2) and that sort of thing, but Sklansky's math is deep, complex and, for me, difficult.
I'm doing my best to absorb the concepts, and not the math so much, of the book, and it's working pretty well.
But my question is, how much math do we really need to be a great player? Am I selling myself short? I'm happy, quite honestly, being a winning player at the $25 NL and $50 NL levels with occasional dabbling in the $100 NL. I hope to win a large MTT someday but don't expect big scores all the time. So do I need all that math?
See you at the Mookie tonight. Maybe.
Sunday, May 06, 2007
Bonus Sunday Haiku
Kate is cramping now.
Is it true or false this time?
I guess I'll know soon.
Edit:
No, but we're closer
Can't be more than a few days
Cause wife is frazzled
Is it true or false this time?
I guess I'll know soon.
Edit:
No, but we're closer
Can't be more than a few days
Cause wife is frazzled
Saturday, May 05, 2007
Pokerpeaker's deep thoughts
Labor is a lot like taking a crap. No matter how much you try to make it happen, sometimes it just won't budge.
And then it decides to come at the worst possible time.
Now we're trying walking to the park and back. Kate feels them against her cervix. They are, essentially, knocking on the door.
Now we just need to let them in/out.
OH, and I got a book today about little thoughts on being a Daddy to a little girl.
Pg. 84
"Teach her how to play poker."
:)
And then it decides to come at the worst possible time.
Now we're trying walking to the park and back. Kate feels them against her cervix. They are, essentially, knocking on the door.
Now we just need to let them in/out.
OH, and I got a book today about little thoughts on being a Daddy to a little girl.
Pg. 84
"Teach her how to play poker."
:)
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Bad Girls
This could pertain to my twins, given that they refuse to come out of room right now. Not that I blame them. The womb is a pretty nice place. But come on, ladies, it's time to see the world! You come out of that room RIGHT NOW!
They're ignoring Daddy.
I"m told I'd better get used to it.
On a poker note — yes, I still play poker, every night, in fact — I've never understood why QQ is called the Hiltons. Are we naming that hand after Paris Hilton and her sister?
If so, good, because I hate Paris Hilton.
And I hate QQ.
I've lost more money with QQ than any other hand. I have made five times as much with 10,10 and JJ. Easily. QQ is like Paris, who looks really, really good on the surface and is a dangerous little wench underneath. Why does it continue to beckon to me? Like the stripper I once dated long ago, before I found the wholesome power rock that is Kate, I know I should get away from it more often but I just...can't.
All small with the board pairing? The guy has the other xx. Aggression before the flop? The guy always has KK or AA (and I always call, at least, with QQ unless it's a shove). Flop a set? It turns into a flush or a straight despite me blistering my finger on the raise button. I finally got stacked last night on a 6,2,9 board when the other guy showed no aggression pre-flop to my raise. I put him on JJ and shoved. He had a set. Maybe if I listened to my don't go broke with one pair mantra, I'd be OK.
I can make great laydowns. All the time. I have no idea why QQ is different.
Maybe it's the looks. That always gets the guys.
I did play the Mookie last night. I felt all right about it after struggling with SnGs lately (0-5 on cashing this week) and wondering why I bother playing them any more at all. Cash games are going so well, if SnGs weren't fun I would just ditch them completely. Strangely enough, my MTT game is pretty good now. It used to be horrible, but generally in every Mookie I've played I've either made the final table or put myself in a good position to do so. I was a coin flip away from being in the top 10 after gasping on life support earlier that night.
By the way, Mookie is playing his ass off. He barely missed another final table. Good show. JJOK seems to be another hot player right now, but he's got the mutiple power working for him.
See, girls, JJOK did a good job with his girls. It's OK to come out. Join the world.
Please.
They're ignoring Daddy.
I"m told I'd better get used to it.
On a poker note — yes, I still play poker, every night, in fact — I've never understood why QQ is called the Hiltons. Are we naming that hand after Paris Hilton and her sister?
If so, good, because I hate Paris Hilton.
And I hate QQ.
I've lost more money with QQ than any other hand. I have made five times as much with 10,10 and JJ. Easily. QQ is like Paris, who looks really, really good on the surface and is a dangerous little wench underneath. Why does it continue to beckon to me? Like the stripper I once dated long ago, before I found the wholesome power rock that is Kate, I know I should get away from it more often but I just...can't.
All small with the board pairing? The guy has the other xx. Aggression before the flop? The guy always has KK or AA (and I always call, at least, with QQ unless it's a shove). Flop a set? It turns into a flush or a straight despite me blistering my finger on the raise button. I finally got stacked last night on a 6,2,9 board when the other guy showed no aggression pre-flop to my raise. I put him on JJ and shoved. He had a set. Maybe if I listened to my don't go broke with one pair mantra, I'd be OK.
I can make great laydowns. All the time. I have no idea why QQ is different.
Maybe it's the looks. That always gets the guys.
I did play the Mookie last night. I felt all right about it after struggling with SnGs lately (0-5 on cashing this week) and wondering why I bother playing them any more at all. Cash games are going so well, if SnGs weren't fun I would just ditch them completely. Strangely enough, my MTT game is pretty good now. It used to be horrible, but generally in every Mookie I've played I've either made the final table or put myself in a good position to do so. I was a coin flip away from being in the top 10 after gasping on life support earlier that night.
By the way, Mookie is playing his ass off. He barely missed another final table. Good show. JJOK seems to be another hot player right now, but he's got the mutiple power working for him.
See, girls, JJOK did a good job with his girls. It's OK to come out. Join the world.
Please.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
I forgot to read the fine print
Alterate titles for this post:
• The uterus that cried wolf.
• Oops
• Just kidding
• Top ten reasons why false labor rocks (I could only think of two so I had to discontinue that)
• Oh well, at least (maybe) I'll get to play The Mookie.
We were at the hospital until 3:45 a.m. after contractions began at 9:30 p.m. and did not stop and in fact got stronger and were 5-7 minutes apart. That seems like labor to me. How about you?
But I forgot to read the fine print:
*Contractions even 5-7 minutes apart do not necessarily mean babies are on the way. Uterus will not be held responsible for a lack of sleep, disappointment or embarassment felt if in fact babies do not come. All rights reserved. Past performance does not guarentee future success. It's a good idea to test uterus 2-3 times before water actually breaks. Do not be alarmed by babies moving around in the womb and stretching stomach out to "Alien" like proportions as they just want to know why the hell Mom has those funny 'monitor-disc' things on the belly. Pain does not mean babies are on the way. Playing Sarah McLachlan on the stereo provided by the room because your wife likes it apparently may in fact hinder delivery from happening. It doesn't matter how much you want the babies to just be here so you can move on, it happens when they are ready, not you. Future labor contractions may in fact be false as well so tough shit."
P.S. You girls are SO grounded when you get out.
• The uterus that cried wolf.
• Oops
• Just kidding
• Top ten reasons why false labor rocks (I could only think of two so I had to discontinue that)
• Oh well, at least (maybe) I'll get to play The Mookie.
We were at the hospital until 3:45 a.m. after contractions began at 9:30 p.m. and did not stop and in fact got stronger and were 5-7 minutes apart. That seems like labor to me. How about you?
But I forgot to read the fine print:
*Contractions even 5-7 minutes apart do not necessarily mean babies are on the way. Uterus will not be held responsible for a lack of sleep, disappointment or embarassment felt if in fact babies do not come. All rights reserved. Past performance does not guarentee future success. It's a good idea to test uterus 2-3 times before water actually breaks. Do not be alarmed by babies moving around in the womb and stretching stomach out to "Alien" like proportions as they just want to know why the hell Mom has those funny 'monitor-disc' things on the belly. Pain does not mean babies are on the way. Playing Sarah McLachlan on the stereo provided by the room because your wife likes it apparently may in fact hinder delivery from happening. It doesn't matter how much you want the babies to just be here so you can move on, it happens when they are ready, not you. Future labor contractions may in fact be false as well so tough shit."
P.S. You girls are SO grounded when you get out.
Stirrings
I was knee-deep in Stephen King's latest book (his best in quite a while), and Kate spooked me enough to strip one of my nine mountaineering lives right off my soul.
Then she told me the news.
Contractions. Seven minutes apart. One after the other.
It's now 12:28 a.m. And I think this is it.
Then she told me the news.
Contractions. Seven minutes apart. One after the other.
It's now 12:28 a.m. And I think this is it.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Lying in wait and living on the edge
— "Sometimes I feel I've got to (clap clap) run away"
Soft Cell
On midnight on a Sunday, with a work week staring you in the face, I think I'd rather be anywhere than Wal-Mart.
At that time, it looks like the worst place on earth, with its fading yellow ozone light flooding the store and ragged low-level employees who just crawled out of the sea and sprouted legs hanging by the entrance and smoking and staring at you through their meth hazes with sunken eyes.
Yet there I was, shuffling through the store, looking for Motrin. Jayden came down with a sore throat, and after a visit to the E.R., needed some tropical punch Motrin to help ease the swelling (air passages, after all, are a good thing). I was the only one in the store besides the zombie employees and some large person who wore a wife beater and a pair of Zuma pants who could have passed for a man or a woman. I just wanted to get out of there. And then Soft Cell started playing over the loudspeaker, and Wal-Mart on a Sunday night was the place for a little reflection.
I'm now old enough to have one of my favorites songs when I was a kid be played at Wal-Mart, which doesn't exactly go for what I would call an edgy playlist. And I'm facing easily one of the biggest challenges of my life, any day now.
And at the moment, I honestly don't know if I can handle it.
The Twins Thing is hanging over our heads like a piano in a Bugs Bunny cartoon, and I've reached the point now where I just want the damn thing to drop.
When Kate went into labor three weeks ago, I honestly was deathly relieved when they stopped the contractions, but what I didn't realize at the time was I was also relieved that they were going to be here and we could move on and start working.
I am the kind of person who stresses out at the anticipation of work more than stresses about the work itself. Once I dive in, I can chew through just about anything. This is pretty typical of the Type A folk (A, of course, stands for "Anal") that I group myself with. So just imagine with being presented with a big project - a Twins-sized project - and have it dangle in your Inbox for days and now weeks on end without any resoultion.
I was grateful for the extra time. Now I just want it over with.
The Well Meaners have only made things worse. Parents of multiples talk about the same thing, the "You've got your hands full" comments during a trip to the mall, and how after a while they start to feel like a tiny piece of broken glass has just been interested under your fingernail every time you hear it. Every time I hear "How's The Wife Doing," I wince. Are they here yet? I'll bet you're on pins and needles! When is she due again? Chortle Chortle Chortle.
I appreciate their concern. I know they are showing their support. But at this point, too much really is enough.
(On a side note, someone asked Kate Saturday in a restaurant if she was having twins. We weren't talking about it at the time, so she obviously just looked at her belly. WTF? What if the answer is no? "Oh, well, you're really huge anyway.")
It could also be that I truly haven't been honest with myself and how stressed I actually am about this whole thing. Kate finally admitted to me, last night at 1 a.m., when I was explaining why I was such a pissant lately, that she too was worried about it and was feeling guilty about not being more excited about this.
I told her, and I'm telling myself now, that we're not more excited because we know what's coming. Mountain climbing is one of the best things I do in this world. And yet when I'm getting up at 2:30 a.m. and packing my pack and heading out for a long day, I'm not excited. I know how hard it's gonna be.
But I also know how satisfied and happy I'll be at the end of the day.
I think the piano will drop any day now. And as of today, I'll welcome it when it does.
In the Bugs Bunny cartoon, after all, when that piano does drop, it hurts at first. They're squished, in fact.
But in the very next frame, they're whole again.
Soft Cell
On midnight on a Sunday, with a work week staring you in the face, I think I'd rather be anywhere than Wal-Mart.
At that time, it looks like the worst place on earth, with its fading yellow ozone light flooding the store and ragged low-level employees who just crawled out of the sea and sprouted legs hanging by the entrance and smoking and staring at you through their meth hazes with sunken eyes.
Yet there I was, shuffling through the store, looking for Motrin. Jayden came down with a sore throat, and after a visit to the E.R., needed some tropical punch Motrin to help ease the swelling (air passages, after all, are a good thing). I was the only one in the store besides the zombie employees and some large person who wore a wife beater and a pair of Zuma pants who could have passed for a man or a woman. I just wanted to get out of there. And then Soft Cell started playing over the loudspeaker, and Wal-Mart on a Sunday night was the place for a little reflection.
I'm now old enough to have one of my favorites songs when I was a kid be played at Wal-Mart, which doesn't exactly go for what I would call an edgy playlist. And I'm facing easily one of the biggest challenges of my life, any day now.
And at the moment, I honestly don't know if I can handle it.
The Twins Thing is hanging over our heads like a piano in a Bugs Bunny cartoon, and I've reached the point now where I just want the damn thing to drop.
When Kate went into labor three weeks ago, I honestly was deathly relieved when they stopped the contractions, but what I didn't realize at the time was I was also relieved that they were going to be here and we could move on and start working.
I am the kind of person who stresses out at the anticipation of work more than stresses about the work itself. Once I dive in, I can chew through just about anything. This is pretty typical of the Type A folk (A, of course, stands for "Anal") that I group myself with. So just imagine with being presented with a big project - a Twins-sized project - and have it dangle in your Inbox for days and now weeks on end without any resoultion.
I was grateful for the extra time. Now I just want it over with.
The Well Meaners have only made things worse. Parents of multiples talk about the same thing, the "You've got your hands full" comments during a trip to the mall, and how after a while they start to feel like a tiny piece of broken glass has just been interested under your fingernail every time you hear it. Every time I hear "How's The Wife Doing," I wince. Are they here yet? I'll bet you're on pins and needles! When is she due again? Chortle Chortle Chortle.
I appreciate their concern. I know they are showing their support. But at this point, too much really is enough.
(On a side note, someone asked Kate Saturday in a restaurant if she was having twins. We weren't talking about it at the time, so she obviously just looked at her belly. WTF? What if the answer is no? "Oh, well, you're really huge anyway.")
It could also be that I truly haven't been honest with myself and how stressed I actually am about this whole thing. Kate finally admitted to me, last night at 1 a.m., when I was explaining why I was such a pissant lately, that she too was worried about it and was feeling guilty about not being more excited about this.
I told her, and I'm telling myself now, that we're not more excited because we know what's coming. Mountain climbing is one of the best things I do in this world. And yet when I'm getting up at 2:30 a.m. and packing my pack and heading out for a long day, I'm not excited. I know how hard it's gonna be.
But I also know how satisfied and happy I'll be at the end of the day.
I think the piano will drop any day now. And as of today, I'll welcome it when it does.
In the Bugs Bunny cartoon, after all, when that piano does drop, it hurts at first. They're squished, in fact.
But in the very next frame, they're whole again.
Saturday, April 28, 2007
A very special episode of "Intervention"
Preview: On the next "Intervention"....
Voice over: A family struggles to overcome its addictions.
A father gambles too much.
Dad, aka Pokerpeaker: "Dammit! Why do I continue to play sooted connectors? They never hit! And I HATE QQ! And why do you leave the computer on at night if you don't want me to play before I go to bed?"
Mom, aka Kate: "We could have had a dinner together at McDonalds with the money you just lost!"
Voice over: A mother, pregnant with twins and due ANY MOMENT NOW, falls in love with naps.
Kate: "ZZZZZZZZ"
Voice over: And a toddler named Jayden enters into treatment for pacifier addiction.
Jayden: (Frantic sounds). WWAAAAAAAAA!
(Dad puts pacifier back in Jayden's mouth)
(Jayden gets contented, almost dreamy, look on his face)
Three family members. Three struggles with addiction. On the next "Intervention"
Voice over: A family struggles to overcome its addictions.
A father gambles too much.
Dad, aka Pokerpeaker: "Dammit! Why do I continue to play sooted connectors? They never hit! And I HATE QQ! And why do you leave the computer on at night if you don't want me to play before I go to bed?"
Mom, aka Kate: "We could have had a dinner together at McDonalds with the money you just lost!"
Voice over: A mother, pregnant with twins and due ANY MOMENT NOW, falls in love with naps.
Kate: "ZZZZZZZZ"
Voice over: And a toddler named Jayden enters into treatment for pacifier addiction.
Jayden: (Frantic sounds). WWAAAAAAAAA!
(Dad puts pacifier back in Jayden's mouth)
(Jayden gets contented, almost dreamy, look on his face)
Three family members. Three struggles with addiction. On the next "Intervention"
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Finishing Second to Mom is heartwarming but frustrating
For my new column for the Greeley Tribune, I"ll occasionally write a personal column, as I did last month about the Daddy Spot. This is my second one. I thought I would share it again.
A couple quick things:
• I am Mr. Split Personality. I"m just crushing the cash games right now (three-tabling $25 NL on Ultimate Bet), but my SnG game has gone in the tank. I"m still making good decisions, but all my good hands have not held up or I'm just running into monster coolers. But my Mookie game is strong, as last week's third-place finish and fourth-place position on the leaderboard shows.
Of course, this is much better than tanking the Mookie and the cash games and doing well in SnGs, so I'm not complaining.
• Speaking of The Mookie, I'll be there tonight. It's been a blast lately with the good turnouts.
Here's the column:
There is nothing in this world that warms my heart more than when Jayden says, "Daddy!"
But I don't hear it as often as I'd like.
"Mom?" Jayden says to me as Kate drives away for a break with her friends, leaving him in my care at Pheasant Run Park during a glorious evening.
Jayden is a couple months shy of his second birthday, and he's learned to say a few words. He can't put together sentences yet, but one word usually does the trick. "Mom?," of course, means "Where the heck is Mom?"
He asks that 10 more times as our mini-van drives away.
In our home, Mom, not Daddy, is King.
When Kate places him on the bed in the morning, in the few minutes I'll have with him before I have to get ready for work, Jayden usually cries out of fear that Mom will go away. At night, when I'm excited to see him, Jayden squirms when I pick him up, angling his way back to Mom. When I open my arms as he watches "Cars," he'll nod his head "No" and nuzzle up next to Mom.
It's not all bad. When I lay on the floor, Jayden inevitably can't resist the urge to dogpile me. When he's playing in the backyard, Jayden usually comes in to "ask" me to join him (the kid already knows his father). And when I come home, he always says, "Daddy!"
Then he goes back to Mom.
"Mom?" Jayden says to me at the park, in between slides down on his belly while he says "weeeee!" He just saw a woman get out of another minivan who looks like a mom. She is a mom. Just not Mom.
"Go play," I say.
I've got no one to blame for this but myself. I put in my fair share of time, even watching him on Fridays, one of my "weekend" days for working Sunday, but Kate puts more hours than me. She gets up with him early to watch cartoons, feeds him breakfast and takes him to day care. She is extremely good at being Mom.
But other times I wonder if it would make a difference if I, say, fixed him breakfast (we'll find out soon enough, when the twins arrive). After spending all day with him Friday, on Saturday morning, Jayden favors Mom once again. Jayden doesn't hand out extra credit for a day spent with him. Either that or Mom gets awarded double points.
I have to admit, sometimes I get a little jealous at being second fiddle, even when I realize that my mom is the first person I call when I'm sick. And I'm 35.
I also know our roles are different. I'm the one Jayden can dogpile. I'm the one who throws him under the bed to make forts. I, more than Kate, take him to the park.
"Daddy?" Jayden says, in the distance, as he struggles to find his way through a plastic tube filled with screaming children. "I'm here," I answer.
Jayden appears a moment later, after another trip down the slide, with his arms outstretched to me, so I can pick him up and put him on a wheel that spins around and around. He laughs. I laugh. He turns to look at me and touches my nose. I pretend to eat his hand. He laughs and wants to be put down. He runs off to the slide again.
"Daddy!" he says, again, before I tell him it's time to head to the car and grab some dinner. It's times like these when the jealousy fades, and I feel good about my place in his world.
Then, as we're walking back to the car, he looks over at another mini-van that's just pulled up. A woman yells at her kids to get in the car.
"Mom?" Jayden asks and looks at me.
Sigh.
— Dan England covers the outdoors, entertainment and the environment for The Tribune. His column runs on Tuesdays. If you have an idea for a column, call 392-4418 or write dengland@greeleytribune.com.
A couple quick things:
• I am Mr. Split Personality. I"m just crushing the cash games right now (three-tabling $25 NL on Ultimate Bet), but my SnG game has gone in the tank. I"m still making good decisions, but all my good hands have not held up or I'm just running into monster coolers. But my Mookie game is strong, as last week's third-place finish and fourth-place position on the leaderboard shows.
Of course, this is much better than tanking the Mookie and the cash games and doing well in SnGs, so I'm not complaining.
• Speaking of The Mookie, I'll be there tonight. It's been a blast lately with the good turnouts.
Here's the column:
There is nothing in this world that warms my heart more than when Jayden says, "Daddy!"
But I don't hear it as often as I'd like.
"Mom?" Jayden says to me as Kate drives away for a break with her friends, leaving him in my care at Pheasant Run Park during a glorious evening.
Jayden is a couple months shy of his second birthday, and he's learned to say a few words. He can't put together sentences yet, but one word usually does the trick. "Mom?," of course, means "Where the heck is Mom?"
He asks that 10 more times as our mini-van drives away.
In our home, Mom, not Daddy, is King.
When Kate places him on the bed in the morning, in the few minutes I'll have with him before I have to get ready for work, Jayden usually cries out of fear that Mom will go away. At night, when I'm excited to see him, Jayden squirms when I pick him up, angling his way back to Mom. When I open my arms as he watches "Cars," he'll nod his head "No" and nuzzle up next to Mom.
It's not all bad. When I lay on the floor, Jayden inevitably can't resist the urge to dogpile me. When he's playing in the backyard, Jayden usually comes in to "ask" me to join him (the kid already knows his father). And when I come home, he always says, "Daddy!"
Then he goes back to Mom.
"Mom?" Jayden says to me at the park, in between slides down on his belly while he says "weeeee!" He just saw a woman get out of another minivan who looks like a mom. She is a mom. Just not Mom.
"Go play," I say.
I've got no one to blame for this but myself. I put in my fair share of time, even watching him on Fridays, one of my "weekend" days for working Sunday, but Kate puts more hours than me. She gets up with him early to watch cartoons, feeds him breakfast and takes him to day care. She is extremely good at being Mom.
But other times I wonder if it would make a difference if I, say, fixed him breakfast (we'll find out soon enough, when the twins arrive). After spending all day with him Friday, on Saturday morning, Jayden favors Mom once again. Jayden doesn't hand out extra credit for a day spent with him. Either that or Mom gets awarded double points.
I have to admit, sometimes I get a little jealous at being second fiddle, even when I realize that my mom is the first person I call when I'm sick. And I'm 35.
I also know our roles are different. I'm the one Jayden can dogpile. I'm the one who throws him under the bed to make forts. I, more than Kate, take him to the park.
"Daddy?" Jayden says, in the distance, as he struggles to find his way through a plastic tube filled with screaming children. "I'm here," I answer.
Jayden appears a moment later, after another trip down the slide, with his arms outstretched to me, so I can pick him up and put him on a wheel that spins around and around. He laughs. I laugh. He turns to look at me and touches my nose. I pretend to eat his hand. He laughs and wants to be put down. He runs off to the slide again.
"Daddy!" he says, again, before I tell him it's time to head to the car and grab some dinner. It's times like these when the jealousy fades, and I feel good about my place in his world.
Then, as we're walking back to the car, he looks over at another mini-van that's just pulled up. A woman yells at her kids to get in the car.
"Mom?" Jayden asks and looks at me.
Sigh.
— Dan England covers the outdoors, entertainment and the environment for The Tribune. His column runs on Tuesdays. If you have an idea for a column, call 392-4418 or write dengland@greeleytribune.com.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
The first race, suckout special and still put
Every time I’m in a race, there are moments I just want it to be over.
“Damn,” I’ll think to myself. “This is HARD.”
Thoughts of stopping and walking always haunt me. It just looks so sweet, those walking alongside the course, the way new parents look at pillows three stacks high or dieters gaze at cheesecake (or poker players smile at a turned set).
There are many reasons I run races. Not a whole lot of them have anything to do with fun.
Sunday I ran my first race of the summer season. It was a 5-mile run over rolling hills through Greeley and put on by our running coach. It, like many of the races I’ve run, was a lot more fun upon reflection than during the actual race.
I think a lot of our experiences are like that. Christmas dinner with the family can mean itchy sweaters, tense moments and dry turkey. Poker tournaments are stressful, sometimes cantankerous affairs, yet I always think how much fun they were, even after I bust out.
Races are the same way, too, and Sunday was no exception. It was hot at times. At times I couldn’t breathe much. I gagged a few times after the bile in my throat got caught in my craw. I was exhausted at times, too, and other times I had lots of energy. I rarely felt really good, but I know my running is improving because I rarely was completely miserable either.
My time was 38:52, or about a 7:47 per-mile pace. I was proud of that, and that time meant I may very well reach my goal of 47-48 minutes at the BolderBoulder, one of the country’s biggest (and most fun) 10K races in Boulder.
Still, there were many times during the race when I wanted to stop. The fun comes when you push through that pain and make yourself go, and go, in fact a little faster.
• • •
Speaking of pain, last night a guy at my table was raising every hand, and I pushed all in with AA when I flopped a set. The guy got his runner, runner flush on the river when he couldn’t let Q,10 sooted go to a re-raise.
That’s what I get for playing .5/.10 poker as a wind-down to the evening after playing the $25 NL tables for the better part of an hour Friday night. If I’m going to hang around there, even if it’s just for fun, I have to expect suckouts. I got one.
• • •
Oh, yeah, the girls. Kate is taking those blood pressure pills, and though she’s still having the occasional contraction, they’re still staying put for now. The doc wants her on those pills until they are 36 weeks, but I’m almost thinking a compromise is in order. They make her feel dizzy and exhausted all the time.
I say she takes them until mid-way through the 35th week. They’ve had those steroid shots and they’re already 5 pounds each. Really, how bad could it be?
Kate also thinks her body is getting ready for labor.
They’re coming. I can feel it too. Just not right now.
Probably.
“Damn,” I’ll think to myself. “This is HARD.”
Thoughts of stopping and walking always haunt me. It just looks so sweet, those walking alongside the course, the way new parents look at pillows three stacks high or dieters gaze at cheesecake (or poker players smile at a turned set).
There are many reasons I run races. Not a whole lot of them have anything to do with fun.
Sunday I ran my first race of the summer season. It was a 5-mile run over rolling hills through Greeley and put on by our running coach. It, like many of the races I’ve run, was a lot more fun upon reflection than during the actual race.
I think a lot of our experiences are like that. Christmas dinner with the family can mean itchy sweaters, tense moments and dry turkey. Poker tournaments are stressful, sometimes cantankerous affairs, yet I always think how much fun they were, even after I bust out.
Races are the same way, too, and Sunday was no exception. It was hot at times. At times I couldn’t breathe much. I gagged a few times after the bile in my throat got caught in my craw. I was exhausted at times, too, and other times I had lots of energy. I rarely felt really good, but I know my running is improving because I rarely was completely miserable either.
My time was 38:52, or about a 7:47 per-mile pace. I was proud of that, and that time meant I may very well reach my goal of 47-48 minutes at the BolderBoulder, one of the country’s biggest (and most fun) 10K races in Boulder.
Still, there were many times during the race when I wanted to stop. The fun comes when you push through that pain and make yourself go, and go, in fact a little faster.
• • •
Speaking of pain, last night a guy at my table was raising every hand, and I pushed all in with AA when I flopped a set. The guy got his runner, runner flush on the river when he couldn’t let Q,10 sooted go to a re-raise.
That’s what I get for playing .5/.10 poker as a wind-down to the evening after playing the $25 NL tables for the better part of an hour Friday night. If I’m going to hang around there, even if it’s just for fun, I have to expect suckouts. I got one.
• • •
Oh, yeah, the girls. Kate is taking those blood pressure pills, and though she’s still having the occasional contraction, they’re still staying put for now. The doc wants her on those pills until they are 36 weeks, but I’m almost thinking a compromise is in order. They make her feel dizzy and exhausted all the time.
I say she takes them until mid-way through the 35th week. They’ve had those steroid shots and they’re already 5 pounds each. Really, how bad could it be?
Kate also thinks her body is getting ready for labor.
They’re coming. I can feel it too. Just not right now.
Probably.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Thank you, girls, for staying put for another week
That may be the title of my posts until they actually come.
I could have done something braggy like:
• A New Me at the Mookie
• I Am Awesome
• I Love The Mookie
• Chop, Chop, Chop
• We here are Bartles and James thanks you for your support
But, nah, let's keep the karma going, shall we?
Yes. Let's.
First of all, thank you for all your support, folks. Things are dandy right now. Kate is feeling the weight of almost 11 pounds of baby, which is like having a Shaq, but so far those little girls are actually cooperating with Daddy and have decided to hang in the womb a bit longer. So now even if Kate lasts until Sunday, I get to cover the jazz festival here, I get to run in a race, and, most importantly, the two will be at 34 weeks and their lungs will have had the chance to get some super-mongo development thanks to a steriod shot or two that Kate got before she went home.
(Side note: Kate took the shot in the butt. Damn. Those girls aren't even out yet and they're ALREADY kicking our ass).
Kate, a P.E. teacher, hopes that doesn't ruin their chances in gymnastics for the Olympics. I hope the steriod doesn't mean they will have huge racks at 13, thereby forcing me to take lessons on how to clean a shotgun on my front porch until they are 26.
Anyway, shall we move on to the Mookie?
Yes. Let's
• • •
So I am floating around here:
And what would the old Pokerpeaker, like the guy, er, two weeks ago would have done? He would have waited around for a premium hand and hoped for the best.
That, after two years of playing good, solid poker, I've discovered does not win you tournaments. Especially blogger tournaments. Tough ones like the Mookie.
Now I have blogged before about how I was changing my style, blah blah blah, yeah yeah yeah. And I did. I bluff a lot more now. But what I still didn't do was steal.
Stealing is an art. It is much harder than it looks. And it's something that poker books don't teach. At least, not very well. I was a book learner. After a year of play money three years ago, I decided to really learn the game and got a bunch of books and read the shit out of them. Those books helped. I learned the game. I am extremely sound. Fundamental. Downright solid.
But unfortunately, those books, along with playing a year of play money and learning that simply playing solid poker wins big pots, doesn't teach you how to steal. When everyone else at the table knows how to play - and that's true more and more these days, not just at blogger tournaments, well, you can't just play solid poker, make great laydowns and hope others make a mistake.
I figured that given my style of tight-until-a-diamond-comes-out-of-your-butt wouldn't have to change too much. But I did need to steal. I needed to be more aggressive pre-flop based on position and the situation and who I was up against and not just my cards.
So I've been working on that. I have played $25 NL poker to build my bankroll on Ultimate Bet (my last PSO bonus before Neteller exploded, so I figure why not build that sucker up to go along with Full Tilt and Poker Stars?). I have stolen many more pots, even at that level.
So...at the Mookie tonight, I stole. A lot. For me, at least. I didn't go crazy. Every hand I raised with was a decent holding. But I raised more on position than what I had. Before I would fold K,8 sooted, even on the button in a six-handed game. Tonight I raised it automatically.
I won't go on and on about this. There were other keys tonight. I made some great laydowns - K,A three times, JJ once when Kat re-raised me all in with AA - and I made some decent bluffs post-flop, including 10,3 against Waffles when I was on life support and 4,2 against a big blind with nothing. And I got lucky, twice getting trips with K,8, once when I was nearly gasping for air. I only made two bad plays tonight and got away from them when I realized they weren't working.
Finally, though, I realized something. It was easier when I was raising a fair amount. For instance, it was easy to get away from JJ, even though I had to raise it in first position, because Kat, a solid player, re-raised me. Plus I had lots more blinds to work with, so I wasn't always pushing and hoping for coin flips. In fact, I didn't have many tonight. The ones I did have, 2-3, I won two and lost one.
Oh, and there was this, too:
That's right, two away from the final table, I am re-raised all in while I hold K,A, and I call it, and he has K,J, and he gets a J on the flop, and I was just starting to say MOTHER *((^(8JLI SON....
And then the A hit on the turn.
Oh.
Never mind.
So, I got lucky, and I made good laydowns, and I made a lot more steals than I normally would, and after winning that huge pot, it was on to the final table, and we wound up chopping it up for second and third, given that Mattazuma had a huge lead on the two of us and I wanted to take the money at that point.
Nice win, Matta.
Here it is, with a tie for second:
So I believe I"m looking pretty good on the Mookie leader board.
Maybe, just maybe, that hot wind that Don is feeling on his neck is me breathing down it.
Wait. That sounded really ghey.
Moving on.
• • •
This poker blog continues to entertain me with the top-10 Poker Babes. I love it.
I have a few in mind. Change 100, Kat, Gracie, Iron Girl, Poison, Love Elf, Carmen, The Princess, April and my favorite twin mom (links to the right, I'm tired). My wife gets counted too even though she knows about as much about poker as Jayden (something I hope to remedy one day; Jayden, not Kate). She's carrying two boulders in her belly right now. She gets a pass.
• • •
I will abide by Pauly's wishes and not blast ESPN for deciding to part with him so soon after getting us all excited about the poker coverage this year.
Instead, I'll offer a note of praise.
Pauly isn't working there because of creative differences.
Now, it would be extremely easy for Pauly to have given in and decided he would do fluffy features on the same fucking (sorry, pardon my french but I'm fired up over this) pros every damn year. He didn't do that, despite the fact that this gig meant a lot to him, more, I believe, than he's even letting on.
As a journalist, I've had to fight for my writing style in the past, and so when Pauly got the gig, I (and apparently lots of others) sent him one piece of advice: Be yourself.
Apparently he took that to heart, but I get the feeling he knew that anyway.
Look, I'm so impressed with this because I'm not sure I would do the same thing. It's easy for me to say I would stick to my guns and tell ESPN that it would be my way or no way, but that's a pretty nice gig. I'm sure I would probably compromise a bit. It hurts to say that, and yet, I probably would.
Pauly stuck to it. He's also right. Poker is a nasty business and a wonderful game at the same time, and I'm tired of ESPN presenting it like it's the annual Scrabble tournament. Pauly wanted to show both sides. As, by the way, most good journalists do.
Good for him. I'll continue to read his wonderful blog. Now more than ever.
• • •
I was thinking about how much fun tournaments are, but I've focused most of my attention on cash games this year, successfully, I might add. I don't know if I'll have much else when the girls arrive. It's a lot easier to leave a cash game and tend to a squawly baby than an SnG. Even if it's turbo. And I hate turbo SnGs anyway.
I do hope I can continue with the Mookie. I don't know if convincing Mom when she's out here that I need her to feed baby A or Baby 1A so I can play a poker tournament will work.
Maybe if I tell her about how you've all been so supportive lately it will help.
I could have done something braggy like:
• A New Me at the Mookie
• I Am Awesome
• I Love The Mookie
• Chop, Chop, Chop
• We here are Bartles and James thanks you for your support
But, nah, let's keep the karma going, shall we?
Yes. Let's.
First of all, thank you for all your support, folks. Things are dandy right now. Kate is feeling the weight of almost 11 pounds of baby, which is like having a Shaq, but so far those little girls are actually cooperating with Daddy and have decided to hang in the womb a bit longer. So now even if Kate lasts until Sunday, I get to cover the jazz festival here, I get to run in a race, and, most importantly, the two will be at 34 weeks and their lungs will have had the chance to get some super-mongo development thanks to a steriod shot or two that Kate got before she went home.
(Side note: Kate took the shot in the butt. Damn. Those girls aren't even out yet and they're ALREADY kicking our ass).
Kate, a P.E. teacher, hopes that doesn't ruin their chances in gymnastics for the Olympics. I hope the steriod doesn't mean they will have huge racks at 13, thereby forcing me to take lessons on how to clean a shotgun on my front porch until they are 26.
Anyway, shall we move on to the Mookie?
Yes. Let's
• • •
So I am floating around here:
And what would the old Pokerpeaker, like the guy, er, two weeks ago would have done? He would have waited around for a premium hand and hoped for the best.
That, after two years of playing good, solid poker, I've discovered does not win you tournaments. Especially blogger tournaments. Tough ones like the Mookie.
Now I have blogged before about how I was changing my style, blah blah blah, yeah yeah yeah. And I did. I bluff a lot more now. But what I still didn't do was steal.
Stealing is an art. It is much harder than it looks. And it's something that poker books don't teach. At least, not very well. I was a book learner. After a year of play money three years ago, I decided to really learn the game and got a bunch of books and read the shit out of them. Those books helped. I learned the game. I am extremely sound. Fundamental. Downright solid.
But unfortunately, those books, along with playing a year of play money and learning that simply playing solid poker wins big pots, doesn't teach you how to steal. When everyone else at the table knows how to play - and that's true more and more these days, not just at blogger tournaments, well, you can't just play solid poker, make great laydowns and hope others make a mistake.
I figured that given my style of tight-until-a-diamond-comes-out-of-your-butt wouldn't have to change too much. But I did need to steal. I needed to be more aggressive pre-flop based on position and the situation and who I was up against and not just my cards.
So I've been working on that. I have played $25 NL poker to build my bankroll on Ultimate Bet (my last PSO bonus before Neteller exploded, so I figure why not build that sucker up to go along with Full Tilt and Poker Stars?). I have stolen many more pots, even at that level.
So...at the Mookie tonight, I stole. A lot. For me, at least. I didn't go crazy. Every hand I raised with was a decent holding. But I raised more on position than what I had. Before I would fold K,8 sooted, even on the button in a six-handed game. Tonight I raised it automatically.
I won't go on and on about this. There were other keys tonight. I made some great laydowns - K,A three times, JJ once when Kat re-raised me all in with AA - and I made some decent bluffs post-flop, including 10,3 against Waffles when I was on life support and 4,2 against a big blind with nothing. And I got lucky, twice getting trips with K,8, once when I was nearly gasping for air. I only made two bad plays tonight and got away from them when I realized they weren't working.
Finally, though, I realized something. It was easier when I was raising a fair amount. For instance, it was easy to get away from JJ, even though I had to raise it in first position, because Kat, a solid player, re-raised me. Plus I had lots more blinds to work with, so I wasn't always pushing and hoping for coin flips. In fact, I didn't have many tonight. The ones I did have, 2-3, I won two and lost one.
Oh, and there was this, too:
That's right, two away from the final table, I am re-raised all in while I hold K,A, and I call it, and he has K,J, and he gets a J on the flop, and I was just starting to say MOTHER *((^(8JLI SON....
And then the A hit on the turn.
Oh.
Never mind.
So, I got lucky, and I made good laydowns, and I made a lot more steals than I normally would, and after winning that huge pot, it was on to the final table, and we wound up chopping it up for second and third, given that Mattazuma had a huge lead on the two of us and I wanted to take the money at that point.
Nice win, Matta.
Here it is, with a tie for second:
So I believe I"m looking pretty good on the Mookie leader board.
Maybe, just maybe, that hot wind that Don is feeling on his neck is me breathing down it.
Wait. That sounded really ghey.
Moving on.
• • •
This poker blog continues to entertain me with the top-10 Poker Babes. I love it.
I have a few in mind. Change 100, Kat, Gracie, Iron Girl, Poison, Love Elf, Carmen, The Princess, April and my favorite twin mom (links to the right, I'm tired). My wife gets counted too even though she knows about as much about poker as Jayden (something I hope to remedy one day; Jayden, not Kate). She's carrying two boulders in her belly right now. She gets a pass.
• • •
I will abide by Pauly's wishes and not blast ESPN for deciding to part with him so soon after getting us all excited about the poker coverage this year.
Instead, I'll offer a note of praise.
Pauly isn't working there because of creative differences.
Now, it would be extremely easy for Pauly to have given in and decided he would do fluffy features on the same fucking (sorry, pardon my french but I'm fired up over this) pros every damn year. He didn't do that, despite the fact that this gig meant a lot to him, more, I believe, than he's even letting on.
As a journalist, I've had to fight for my writing style in the past, and so when Pauly got the gig, I (and apparently lots of others) sent him one piece of advice: Be yourself.
Apparently he took that to heart, but I get the feeling he knew that anyway.
Look, I'm so impressed with this because I'm not sure I would do the same thing. It's easy for me to say I would stick to my guns and tell ESPN that it would be my way or no way, but that's a pretty nice gig. I'm sure I would probably compromise a bit. It hurts to say that, and yet, I probably would.
Pauly stuck to it. He's also right. Poker is a nasty business and a wonderful game at the same time, and I'm tired of ESPN presenting it like it's the annual Scrabble tournament. Pauly wanted to show both sides. As, by the way, most good journalists do.
Good for him. I'll continue to read his wonderful blog. Now more than ever.
• • •
I was thinking about how much fun tournaments are, but I've focused most of my attention on cash games this year, successfully, I might add. I don't know if I'll have much else when the girls arrive. It's a lot easier to leave a cash game and tend to a squawly baby than an SnG. Even if it's turbo. And I hate turbo SnGs anyway.
I do hope I can continue with the Mookie. I don't know if convincing Mom when she's out here that I need her to feed baby A or Baby 1A so I can play a poker tournament will work.
Maybe if I tell her about how you've all been so supportive lately it will help.
Monday, April 16, 2007
Something to cheer us up (including myself)
Today's gut-grabbing news out of Virginia Tech brought me out of my funk in a strange way.
It's truly horrible what happened out there, and you all know that. But it brought our recent scare, as well as my whole attitude toward the twins, into a little more focus.
I'll never complain about having twins again. How can I after seeing so many kids - and they still are kids - have their lives cut short.
And though Friday's scare in the hospital was worrisome, even a little terrifying at times, the twins would have a great chance of pulling out of it, to the degree that talking about the alternative probably isn't even necessary. We have hope, and it grows stronger every day Kate can carry those twins.
Yes, she's miserable right now, but she's carrying a couple new lives. I know the parents of those students would give anything to trade with us.
My heart goes out to them.
• • •
This situation isn't nearly as dire, but today I got a letter from one of my favorite sites, Pandora.
"I'm writing today to ask for your help. The survival of Pandora and all of Internet radio is in jeopardy because of a recent decision by the Copyright Royalty Board in Washington, DC to almost triple the licensing fees for Internet radio sites like Pandora. The new royalty rates are irrationally high, more than four times what satellite radio pays and broadcast radio doesn't pay these at all. Left unchanged, these new royalties will kill every Internet radio site, including Pandora.
In response to these new and unfair fees, we have formed the SaveNetRadio Coalition, a group that includes listeners, artists, labels and webcasters. I hope that you will consider joining us.
Please sign our petition urging your Congressional representative to act to save Internet radio.
Please sign the petition. I'm a big fan of Internet radio and would hate to see something else in my life screwed with (like online poker) because of Congress.
• • •
Finally, this poker blog is listing the top 10 poker babes. We could all use a little mindless, fun poker chatter right now, so stop by when you get a chance to restore at least a little faith back in this world.
It's truly horrible what happened out there, and you all know that. But it brought our recent scare, as well as my whole attitude toward the twins, into a little more focus.
I'll never complain about having twins again. How can I after seeing so many kids - and they still are kids - have their lives cut short.
And though Friday's scare in the hospital was worrisome, even a little terrifying at times, the twins would have a great chance of pulling out of it, to the degree that talking about the alternative probably isn't even necessary. We have hope, and it grows stronger every day Kate can carry those twins.
Yes, she's miserable right now, but she's carrying a couple new lives. I know the parents of those students would give anything to trade with us.
My heart goes out to them.
• • •
This situation isn't nearly as dire, but today I got a letter from one of my favorite sites, Pandora.
"I'm writing today to ask for your help. The survival of Pandora and all of Internet radio is in jeopardy because of a recent decision by the Copyright Royalty Board in Washington, DC to almost triple the licensing fees for Internet radio sites like Pandora. The new royalty rates are irrationally high, more than four times what satellite radio pays and broadcast radio doesn't pay these at all. Left unchanged, these new royalties will kill every Internet radio site, including Pandora.
In response to these new and unfair fees, we have formed the SaveNetRadio Coalition, a group that includes listeners, artists, labels and webcasters. I hope that you will consider joining us.
Please sign our petition urging your Congressional representative to act to save Internet radio.
Please sign the petition. I'm a big fan of Internet radio and would hate to see something else in my life screwed with (like online poker) because of Congress.
• • •
Finally, this poker blog is listing the top 10 poker babes. We could all use a little mindless, fun poker chatter right now, so stop by when you get a chance to restore at least a little faith back in this world.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
One deep breath, then another
Other than the worst pain we've ever felt in our lives, together (Kate with the labor pains, mine with the fingers that she crushed thanks to said pains), Kate's labor with Jayden was one of the most fun times of my life.
Kate essentially started labor after her check-up to the doctor's two days before he was due. Contractions started 10 minutes apart and stayed that way, one after another, painless little tight pushes that I happily marked with questions and my watch, even at a wings place where we ate dinner, drawing worried stares from our waitress.
She came down at 11 p.m. that night, 10 hours after her appointment, and said, "Um, my water just broke."
Um, OK, let's call the doctor.
We were ready.
Kate was a sprinter, and six hours later, she had Jayden, one of the happiest times in my life.
I had those memories as Kate began having contractions last night, Friday night, after a long, two-hour struggle to get Jayden to stay in his new toddler bed and hit the hay.
They were 10 minutes apart; little, tight pushes like clockwork, and earlier that day, our doc told us she was dialating a bit and her cervix was thinning.
Only this time, Kate was a hair's length of 33 weeks.
We were not ready.
Not even close.
Um, OK, let's call the doctor, I said.
The doctor left it up to us. We could come in or try to wait it out a little longer and hoped the contractions stopped.
At 10 p.m. Kate looked at me.
"We'd better go in," she said.
Labor, despite the horrible pain that comes with it, is supposed to be happy, exciting, fun time. People, after all, rarely make it a point to bring video cameras to the hospital.
Last night, we were doing everything we could to prevent it.
Once the doctor checked Kate, she admitted her right away. Kate's cervix was soft, like butter, she said, and she didn't want to take chances.
We moved into our labor room and hoped for the best. They gave Kate a shot to slow the contractions, and I crashed on the couch, which they fixed up with a stiff pillow and sterile sheets. It was as wide as a coffin, so my arms squished into side, making them fall asleep, meaning I woke up every 20 minutes to pins and needles.
It matched my nerves.
"Have you had one," I asked Kate every 10 minutes, through sleep.
The contractions died down, and I began to dream of my own pillow and Jayden, who was in bed and being watched by Kate's brother. Then they kicked up again.
"I'm starting to cramp," Kate told me.
Crap.
The situation wasn't dire. Even if they were born that night, they would be almost 5 pounds each. It's just that the less time they don't have to spend in the infant hospital, the better.
I woke up an hour later. It was 2:30 a.m. I sat up and asked Kate how she was doing.
"I haven't had any in an hour," she said. "I think you can go home."
I threw on her sweatshirt and went out into the cold night.
Jayden woke up at 6:15 a.m., but after I brought him back to bed with me, he slept for another hour, until it was 7:30 a.m. and I was dreaming of silk sheets, deep pillows and...
WHOMP!
I heard Jayden giggling on my back. Now, as I am a guy, I can appreciate a good dogpile as anyone, but not at 7:30 a.m., when I"m already tired.
A lot of good came out this experience. I spent a good day with Jayden instead of staining our new wooden fence and fertizling our lawn (with lawn care, mind you). It made me appreciate our twins and made me realize that I really do want them here and healthy. It made me appreciate our first labor with Jayden and how nice it was to have a relatively easy and quick delivery.
Most of all, it will make me appreciate our next time in the delivery room, when the girls come to our world to say hello.
I just hope the girls appreciate what a special place the womb is, and that they can wait at least another week or two before they leave it for good.
Kate essentially started labor after her check-up to the doctor's two days before he was due. Contractions started 10 minutes apart and stayed that way, one after another, painless little tight pushes that I happily marked with questions and my watch, even at a wings place where we ate dinner, drawing worried stares from our waitress.
She came down at 11 p.m. that night, 10 hours after her appointment, and said, "Um, my water just broke."
Um, OK, let's call the doctor.
We were ready.
Kate was a sprinter, and six hours later, she had Jayden, one of the happiest times in my life.
I had those memories as Kate began having contractions last night, Friday night, after a long, two-hour struggle to get Jayden to stay in his new toddler bed and hit the hay.
They were 10 minutes apart; little, tight pushes like clockwork, and earlier that day, our doc told us she was dialating a bit and her cervix was thinning.
Only this time, Kate was a hair's length of 33 weeks.
We were not ready.
Not even close.
Um, OK, let's call the doctor, I said.
The doctor left it up to us. We could come in or try to wait it out a little longer and hoped the contractions stopped.
At 10 p.m. Kate looked at me.
"We'd better go in," she said.
Labor, despite the horrible pain that comes with it, is supposed to be happy, exciting, fun time. People, after all, rarely make it a point to bring video cameras to the hospital.
Last night, we were doing everything we could to prevent it.
Once the doctor checked Kate, she admitted her right away. Kate's cervix was soft, like butter, she said, and she didn't want to take chances.
We moved into our labor room and hoped for the best. They gave Kate a shot to slow the contractions, and I crashed on the couch, which they fixed up with a stiff pillow and sterile sheets. It was as wide as a coffin, so my arms squished into side, making them fall asleep, meaning I woke up every 20 minutes to pins and needles.
It matched my nerves.
"Have you had one," I asked Kate every 10 minutes, through sleep.
The contractions died down, and I began to dream of my own pillow and Jayden, who was in bed and being watched by Kate's brother. Then they kicked up again.
"I'm starting to cramp," Kate told me.
Crap.
The situation wasn't dire. Even if they were born that night, they would be almost 5 pounds each. It's just that the less time they don't have to spend in the infant hospital, the better.
I woke up an hour later. It was 2:30 a.m. I sat up and asked Kate how she was doing.
"I haven't had any in an hour," she said. "I think you can go home."
I threw on her sweatshirt and went out into the cold night.
Jayden woke up at 6:15 a.m., but after I brought him back to bed with me, he slept for another hour, until it was 7:30 a.m. and I was dreaming of silk sheets, deep pillows and...
WHOMP!
I heard Jayden giggling on my back. Now, as I am a guy, I can appreciate a good dogpile as anyone, but not at 7:30 a.m., when I"m already tired.
A lot of good came out this experience. I spent a good day with Jayden instead of staining our new wooden fence and fertizling our lawn (with lawn care, mind you). It made me appreciate our twins and made me realize that I really do want them here and healthy. It made me appreciate our first labor with Jayden and how nice it was to have a relatively easy and quick delivery.
Most of all, it will make me appreciate our next time in the delivery room, when the girls come to our world to say hello.
I just hope the girls appreciate what a special place the womb is, and that they can wait at least another week or two before they leave it for good.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Small Steps, like buying wind energy, might be pretty cool
I try to be an environmentalist.
I recycle everything. I mulch our lawn rather than bag the grass and fill up our landfills. I turn off the water when I brush my teeth.
But I also drive an SUV. It’s a Toyota CRV that gets 20 miles to the gallon, but I could be driving a much better car.
And I also use disposable diapers.
And I tend to leave too many lights on in the house and the computer on for too long.
I’m even the environmental reporter for our paper, but I don’t cover the environment well because I don’t have time for it - I’m also the entertainment reporter and the Adventure editor, among my duties - and I struggle to make national environmental issues relevant for our local readers.
So after watching “An Inconvenient Truth” and now being convinced, more than ever, that global warming will in fact destroy our planet if nothing is done, I struggled with what to do. “Sports Illustrated” just did a story on global warming and how it will affect sports, and every day there’s another story in the newspaper about it. So I can’t just push it aside in my mind.
I’m not trading in my CRV for a hybrid. I love it, and I still am a mountaineer and need the 4WD. Plus, the car is paid for and in great shape. Money is tight and will only get a lot tighter once the girls are born in a couple weeks. I can’t afford another monthly payment.
I’m not switching to cloth diapers. We’ll have three children in them. I’m sure that it would be much better to use cloth diapers, but the energy it will take to wash them probably offsets what I’ll save by using cloth. My energy, not the Earth’s.
I will do my best to turn off lights when I leave the room and make sure the computer is off or at least asleep. But bad habits are bad habits. They’re hard to break no matter how hard you try.
But here’s what I just did.
I just signed up for wind energy.
It was easier than I thought. I went to Xcel Energy’s Web site and signed up for its Windsource program.
It will cost me almost $5 a month extra to pay for the five 100-kWh blocks a month. As the average house uses 6 100-kWh blocks a month, I’ve nearly paid for all my home’s energy using wind power.
I really hate the wind, so I might as well put some if it to use.
I'll pay for it through my poker money. $5 a month means I'll have to make one less donkey call, play one less small stakes SnG or goad someone into calling my value bet when I have quads. Besides, I"m charitable enough with my poker money. I'd rather give it to the earth than some douchebag who slowplayed QQ to the river.
I’m not being preachy here. But this is a small, inexpensive way to help with global warming. Xcel energy is a business. If there’s no demand for wind power, it won’t attempt to produce as much as possible, only what voters require. But if the demand is there, it’s quite possible Xcel will do what it can to supply more wind power.
I’ve just added a bit more to the demand.
The problem with the environment and an issue like global warming is it seems like such an overwhelming problem that it really seems as if there’s no way one person could do anything to make a difference.
This is one cheap, easy, small step that can, in fact, make a big difference.
I won’t save the world. I’m too selfish for that. And my family needs me.
But maybe I’ll continue to take small steps like buying wind energy. If I continue to do that, maybe instead of trying to be an environmentalist, I’ll actually be one.
I recycle everything. I mulch our lawn rather than bag the grass and fill up our landfills. I turn off the water when I brush my teeth.
But I also drive an SUV. It’s a Toyota CRV that gets 20 miles to the gallon, but I could be driving a much better car.
And I also use disposable diapers.
And I tend to leave too many lights on in the house and the computer on for too long.
I’m even the environmental reporter for our paper, but I don’t cover the environment well because I don’t have time for it - I’m also the entertainment reporter and the Adventure editor, among my duties - and I struggle to make national environmental issues relevant for our local readers.
So after watching “An Inconvenient Truth” and now being convinced, more than ever, that global warming will in fact destroy our planet if nothing is done, I struggled with what to do. “Sports Illustrated” just did a story on global warming and how it will affect sports, and every day there’s another story in the newspaper about it. So I can’t just push it aside in my mind.
I’m not trading in my CRV for a hybrid. I love it, and I still am a mountaineer and need the 4WD. Plus, the car is paid for and in great shape. Money is tight and will only get a lot tighter once the girls are born in a couple weeks. I can’t afford another monthly payment.
I’m not switching to cloth diapers. We’ll have three children in them. I’m sure that it would be much better to use cloth diapers, but the energy it will take to wash them probably offsets what I’ll save by using cloth. My energy, not the Earth’s.
I will do my best to turn off lights when I leave the room and make sure the computer is off or at least asleep. But bad habits are bad habits. They’re hard to break no matter how hard you try.
But here’s what I just did.
I just signed up for wind energy.
It was easier than I thought. I went to Xcel Energy’s Web site and signed up for its Windsource program.
It will cost me almost $5 a month extra to pay for the five 100-kWh blocks a month. As the average house uses 6 100-kWh blocks a month, I’ve nearly paid for all my home’s energy using wind power.
I really hate the wind, so I might as well put some if it to use.
I'll pay for it through my poker money. $5 a month means I'll have to make one less donkey call, play one less small stakes SnG or goad someone into calling my value bet when I have quads. Besides, I"m charitable enough with my poker money. I'd rather give it to the earth than some douchebag who slowplayed QQ to the river.
I’m not being preachy here. But this is a small, inexpensive way to help with global warming. Xcel energy is a business. If there’s no demand for wind power, it won’t attempt to produce as much as possible, only what voters require. But if the demand is there, it’s quite possible Xcel will do what it can to supply more wind power.
I’ve just added a bit more to the demand.
The problem with the environment and an issue like global warming is it seems like such an overwhelming problem that it really seems as if there’s no way one person could do anything to make a difference.
This is one cheap, easy, small step that can, in fact, make a big difference.
I won’t save the world. I’m too selfish for that. And my family needs me.
But maybe I’ll continue to take small steps like buying wind energy. If I continue to do that, maybe instead of trying to be an environmentalist, I’ll actually be one.
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