Just Be Good.

Wow, there's a lot going on. Some good, some really good. Also, some really bad.

And now I ramble.

The good...my Cards are making news by wheeling and dealing on some sweet trades. First, they ship away Chris Duncan (or Duncan't) to the BoSox for Julio Lugo. Duncan absolutely sucks this year, so I would've traded him for a bag of Funyuns. And we get Lugo, who plays shortstop...so hopefully that means the also-sucking Khalil Greene will be packaged in a trade soon. I'd muuuch rather see Greene go than Brendan Ryan. And just an hour or so ago, we traded for Matt Holliday. That's a pretty big gun to bat behind Albert! Middle of the lineup as of tonight: Albert, Holliday, Ludwick. That's balls. Hopefully we can come up with a nice little trade package to get Roy Halladay or Cliff Lee next.

Went camping yesterday. And by camping, I mean brought all my camping shit, then decided to come home instead. I'm just kind of tired of camping by myself. I used to do it all the time. But I got to thinking yesterday...I guess when you get to a certain age, you buy a house, you have a wife...you just want to go home. If someone could've gone with me I wouldn't have thought twice about it. But I was done fishing by 5:30, so that's another 5 hours to sit alone until I go to bed. To me, camping is a social activity. Don't get me wrong, I love the alone time. The outdoors is my church. But between the 5 hour round trip car ride and the 5 hours on the river by myself, I got quite a bit of heavy thinking in. Camping is sitting around a campfire, cooking some greasy food on a propane stove, grilling tubular meats over an open flame, drinking your body weight in beer, and bullshitting with a buddy or two after catching fish all day. Then waking up with the sun, getting the coffee percolator bubbling, and throwing some bacon and eggs in the same skillet you fried the taters in last night.

So instead, last night I meet April at a comedy club in downtown Denver on my way home from the river. I wet waded all day, so I had dirt and gravel all over my feet. So I cleaned up and changed clothes in the parking lot of the comedy club. Some people walking up to the club got to see me standing by my car in my underpants. It was their lucky night. April and I had a few drinks, had a few laughs, and ordered a large pizza to take home and eat at 1am while watching 30 Rock reruns. Much better than sitting on the ground in the dark by myself in the woods.

The really good...Marriage. I lucked the fuck out with her. She's smart, beautiful, and my best friend. Lucky. As. Fuck.

The really bad...a good friend of mine, Todd Slayden, killed himself earlier this week. On the outside, Todd was one of us. He was one of the boys that used to hang out at mom & dad's. He always had kind of a secret side to him that no one really talked about. But who doesn't? It's surfacing that he really had some demons, though. I'd rather not get into the nauseating details, but instead remember the Todd that I knew. I would like to keep a fond (but blurry) memory of our first Spring Break trip together to Panama City Beach, Florida. It was one the best times of my life. I'd like to remember the days when we were the "Get Along Gang". Me and Kay, Kent and Sharon, and Todd and Marla. We did everything together. Going to the lake, roadtripping to Worlds of Fun, hanging out and getting drunk. I want to remember hanging out at his and Michelle's house, having some beers, solving the world's problems, and then crashing on the couch. And I'd like to remember how proud he was when he became a father. I was there when Miya was born, and whatever "other" side Todd had to him, there was definitely a genuine, loving side to him when it came to his daughter.

When something like this happens, my emotions go on overdrive. Shock, sadness, anger, thankfulness, and determination over the course of several days.

Shock and sadness are givens. The anger comes from the selfishness involved with suicide. It's always selfish, but when there are loving families, friends, and especially children involved, it takes on a whole new low. If you're fucked up, get help. If you have serious, serious problems, grow the fuck up and admit it.

Then I think about how great life is and how unbelievably well I have it. And how determined I am to provide the best life possible for my wife and if/when we have children.

I could dig much, much deeper into this conversation. I could get into the human psyche, beliefs in religion and the afterlife, and how incredible life is in general. I won't, though.

So, on one end of the spectrum I've got the ridiculously good. My family, my friends, my wife...all the elements that make my life incredible. And then on the other end, you've got tragedy, darkness, and death. You have to take the later, and use that to put things into perspective. You have to use that as an outline of what not to involve yourself in. You have to constantly be thankful, loving, caring, honest, and responsible.

It's like my Granny said to me on my wedding day, "Just be good." Best advice I've ever gotten.