Well, long time no see.  I apologize for what regrettably seems to be a consistent pattern of not posting entries on here as much as I should, but in this instance I actually have a legitimate excuse.  As you will know if you read my previous entry, I was traded from the Cleveland Indians to the Oakland Athletics on May 10^th/11^th and since then have been in the process of putting my affairs in order, driving across the country, finding living accommodations, putting my affairs back in order again, and trying to get my bearings back after a whirlwind two weeks.  There is also the interesting problem of this blog’s address being linked to the Indians, whom I no longer play for.  After considering it (briefly) I decided to just change the color scheme on here and keep it going, under the assumption that not enough people visit this blog for anyone to particularly care.  Anyhow, the last two weeks have been a very strange experience.  First of all, before I even got to Midland, TX I found out that one of my new teammates with the RockHounds was going to be one of my old teammates/roommates Ryan Edell, which has made the whole transition to a new organization a little bit easier (my other ex-roommate Erik Stiller is actually playing for Corpus Christi, the opposing team in our current series so the gang is back together so to speak).  Speaking of which, the transition from one organization to another has been both fairly smooth and kind of akward.  All of the basics are the same; you throw, run, lift, do shoulder programs, and play, but each organization has different ideas, philosophies and points of emphasis so after five years in one system it feels a little weird to be adapting to another one.  I feel like I’m in the wrong place a lot of the time, but as I’m here a while things will feel more and more natural.  Away from the field there has been precious little to report (unless of course you would like to hear the details of my housing search).  I’m currently plugging through Lars Brownworth’s history of the Bysantine empire, Lost to the West as well as Bill Bryson’s A Short History of Nearly Everything, which is quickly becoming a favorite of mine.  Anyhow, I’m going to stop writing before I bore everyone to death and as always, before you go enjoy a poem on me.

White Note

By W.S. Merwin

Autumn comes early this year

the last morning of August

fog fills the valley clouding

the late roses and the scent

of wet leaves floats in the light

one day after the full moon

it is the time of going

small flocks of migrant birds catch

like strands of wool in the trees

west of the village and wait

for something to remind them

of the journey and their own

way and when the fog lifts

they have gone and with them the days

of summer have vanished

and the leaves here and there begin

taking to themselves

the colors of sunlight

to keep them