SO WHAT DID I ADD?

If you look to the left, you'll notice that the names have been jumbled.That's because I've added blogrolling to the site. I know. Not too great, but at least we should be able to keep up with people who update all the time and those who don't (and you know who you are)

Other than that, life is fine. Maybe one of these days, life will get back to normal.

Adding something to the site... I hope. Did it work?

HOME SWEET HELL: VACATION OVER
Well, my 15 days away from home are over. I'm back in Anderson.

It was a good trip. My mind is at ease because I've been relatively stress free for two weeks, but I've had ambivilent feelings for several days. I was happy to be at Indy, but I missed doing things with my friends from here. There's so much to do there and I know that the friends I've met here in Anderson, would have had a ball even at the stuff that wasn't racing related. I was sad because I still don't have a full-time job at Indy and I knew my short-time there would be over soon. I know the harder I try, a little piece of me stays at that place. One day, I'll be back to claim it.

But most of all, I just didn't want to come home. I woke up early this morning, because my body is just used to starting early after two weeks. I miss eating bagels from Einsteins already. I miss the media center. I miss seeing race cars. And I miss the people who I worked with the last few weeks.

Oh well, all those memories will be erased in a few hours. Glad to be back here.

WATCH WHO YOU HANG WITH

One of the perils of hanging out with race car drivers are the groupies who want to hang with them. I'll relate a story:

Tuesday night was what is called "The Front Row" party in an area of Indianapolis called Broad Ripple, think Lower Greenville in Dallas or Sixth Street in Austin, or Five Points in Columbia, S.C. I hung out with some of my coworkers from the track, and after I lost track of them, I ended with IndyCar driver Jimmy Kite, his PR guy Tom and some other folks. One girl walked up to Jimmy and started talking to him when Tom leaned over to me and told me to find Bruce Martin, a motorsports journalist who has taken to calling me "Arni's Army" this week. It seems this girl, hereafter known as "The Staker" doesn't like Bruce much so it's a kin to keeping an owl nearby so other birds stay away.

Well Bruce showed up, but it was after "The Stalker" left. Soon after, Tom, Jimmy, Bruce and I went to another bar and hung out. We had been there about 45 minutes when "The Stalker" found us. The best description of what happened next was related by Bruce, who said "it was similar to the alarm clock the explodes during the Bugs Bunny cartoons."

The Stalker wigged out. She was yelling at Bruce and then Jimmy about being ignored and she was blaming Bruce for driving a wedge between her and Jimmy, who I guess she persumed was her boyfriend. It was funny, although she could have whipped out a pistol and gunned us all down. After she left, Jimmy declared "I'm never touching her again."

I went to check to see if my family's bunny had been boiled.

Lesson for the class: Don't get killed by a race car driver's stalker

ON VACATION
Greetings from the Crossroads of Americas, Indianapolis. I'm sorry I haven't written much since I went on vacation a week ago, but I haven't had much "idle time" to sit down and write. I'm sitting in the media center of the Indianapolis Motor Speedway overlooking the front straightaway. I can see the Yard of Bricks to my left and several of the leaders of open-wheel racing are meeting about 20 feet to my right. The days have been long, but worth it when I think about what I want to really be doing with my life. But at the same time, who knows what's really going to happen?

Typical day starts between 6 and 7 a.m. It ends about 14 hours later. The time spent in between is very hectic when cars are on the track. Today, there's no track activity, so it's kinda boring. But it's part of the deal. I'll probably miss it all when I get back to the grind at the paper.

On another note, I did visit my sister, who lives a few hours away in Columbus, Ohio. We had dinner, and then I played with her TIVO. I want one of them things now.

Take care and I'll try to write again

A BOUNCY ONE PLEASE

Remember being in the third grade? Remember gym class where you'd play thrilling sports like bombardment (dodgeball), floor hockey,four sqaure, wallball (like raquetball, only with your hands) and flag football. My favorite to play was kickball. The last two weeks or so, some friends from work have gotten together to play kickball at a local schoolyard. I could go on about how much fun it was, but Marcus tells it better at his site. Now that my legs aren't so sore from playing last week, I think I'll check it out.

VACATION COUNTDOWN: Less than four days.

THE MONTH OF MAY

It might as well be Christmas already, because this is the start of one of the best months of the year (Note to my friends who don't understand my love of racing, skip this part). It's May and I'm already looking forward to my trip to the Indianapolis Motor Speedway for the 500. I went for the first time last year, and was fortunate enough to be asked back. Hopefully, I can follow up my grand opening last year and parlay it into a full-time job for 2004.... It could happen, if not, I know this is the start of the make or break year for me.

April showeres usually bring May flowers. For me, May has always brought change. It all started four years ago today, when I left Greenwood. I was prepared to move home and was in Texas when my friend Connie told me about helping out at Texas Motor Speedway. I got the pit note reporting job and still have it. My first race, the June 99 IRL race, was the first time I worked with many of my friends from Indy. That was my first foot in the door. It was also when I got my job in Anderson.

Who knows what this May will bring about. I've said no one stays in Anderson forever. Next year will be my fifth year here in Anderson. I thought I'd be here two maybe three years max and now I've been here almost four. With racing looming in my periphery, I've dragged my feet long enough. So by next May, I'm going decide what I should do.

One of these days, I'm not going to want to be on the road and work in racing. I'm getting closer to the days when I'm going to fall in love and want to start a family. The golfer Charles Howell III grew up in Augusta, never went to the Masters until he earned his playing priveleges there. It hurt him to badly to be there and not play. I don't think I'll ever be like that, but there might be a time soon, when I do.

On a happier note, April Showers also bring MARCUS -- who is coming to visit us from Charleston -- HOORAY