Charles “Chico” Johnson was the hippest dude that anyone ever met.
He’s the reason I love baseball and rock and roll.
But more than that, he was my dad, and I loved him.
October 21, 1954- January 4, 2024
I told my Door Dasher that I liked his Sox jacket, and then we bonded by complaining about Dallas Keuchel for a few minutes.
Community is all I'm saying. Community.
I’m going to be ok, but I ran into some post surgical snags. Bilateral pulmonary embolism(s).
I’m in the joint at least overnight but vitals are great, docs are confident, all the good things. Should be a short stay.
Still waiting on clearance from docs to eat some tacos.
It’s past the 6:00 hour, so I’m officially 42 now.
You all sure know how to make a girl feel loved! I hope I live up to all the wonderful things you said about me.
Thanks for all the messages. I’m very grateful for the community I’ve found here.
(Baseball is the best.)
Wes gets annual CT scans to make sure his cancer hasn’t returned or metastasized elsewhere.
We just got this years results. All clear.
We’re celebrating tonight, so raise a glass to my man!
I’ve been on a “journey” since the All-Star break. Tryna be healthier. I changed the way I eat, and I move a lot more.
I hadn’t worn my wedding ring in about a year, because my finger had outgrown it.
Today, I tried it on, and it fits comfortably.
So, I’m a happy Jacki.
Just wanted to pop in to say Mr. Jacki had an oncologist appointment this afternoon to go over latest blood work and annual “has your cancer come back” CT scan.
We’re all good. Clean scan. Still in remission.
Good visit. Celebratory GIFs are being accepted.
I don’t care if this post is cringe.
I married the most wonderful man. People really show you who they are when things are rough and he’s shown himself to be just the best person I’ve ever met in my life. I’m lucky to be loved by him.
Picture for visual interest.
I’m being a thousand percent serious. If that report is true, I can’t cover this team anymore.
I’m out until he is.
Baseball is still being played. Get ready for Thunderbolts coverage.
Not for sympathy, but my dad had a stroke last night. He’s alive. It’s a lot of wait and see for the next few days. I’m mostly okay, just taking it an hour or two at a time.
For an organization whose owner constantly complains about low attendance numbers, the White Sox sure seem to be weirdly okay with letting members of their broadcast team publicly chide the fans that currently consume their product.
I’m the votiest voter that has ever voted. I haven’t missed a single election since I turned 18. I research ballots and candidates and try my best to be conscientious and informed. I try to encourage those around me to do the same.
Don’t talk to me about voting today.
My family found a CD my dad made labeled “Memories of Youth.”
It’s just him.
Telling stories.
I got to listen to it last night.
It’s a little weird he did it secretly for us to find after the fact, and there’s no intro to say why he did it or who for.
But what a gift.
We’ve had a month of bad days.
Tonight was a better day. Lots of steps in the right direction. It was the most normal I’ve felt in a long time. I’m nervous to say so, bc it can crumble in an instant, but I also want to celebrate it.
Fingers crossed for more days like this one.
As the
#108Tourney
ramps up, let’s remember it’s all for fun. Be excellent to each other out there.
(And if you’re mean to me, this is who you’re being mean to: a sweet little girl next door type who cries easily.)
A friend pointed out that during Rick Hahn's tenure, the White Sox have had more minor league coaches be accused of sexual abuse than they've had playoff wins in a season.
The friend's account is locked, but I'm sharing their point with permission because DAMN.
I should know better than to read comments, but any bullshit person making generalizations about White Sox fans based on tonight’s events can eat an entire bag of shit and fingernails.
Hospice made my girls these using my dad’s tshirts. They are so well done and adorable.
If you know a hospice worker or volunteer, hug them for me. They’ve been so wonderful.
Visited my parents today. Loosened up in their backyard. On the other side of this shed is where my dad installed a pitching rubber (which was just a slab of wood) when I was young. It’s where I learned how to pitch.
Every guitar I own was a gift from my father. The first ever was the red Washburn, a Christmas gift when I was 15. The latest was the blue Ibanez, a surprise gift for my 39th birthday.
They’re looking nice in their newly mounted homes.
Tomorrow is Wes' annual "make sure the cancer hasn't come back" CT scan. We have absolutely no reason to believe that it has, but the knot that's been in my stomach for a few days obviously doesn't know that.
@strashme
I saw my husband to remission while managing the little ones, remote learning, and my own full-time job where I'm the boss and everything is my problem.
And I took care of my mental health: stayed in therapy, and after many years of avoiding it, got an Rx to help my anxiety.
So gallbladder removal surgery that was scheduled for 4/29 is postponed, and this now takes priority.
I don’t want sympathy. I want memes and jokes and silliness and to make fun of the White Sox like we always do.
So let’s keep doing that, ok?
Reintroducing myself before opening day:
Standard issue 40-something suburban mom who loves baseball and, unfortunately, the Chicago White Sox.
B-list podcast guest.
Occasional writer.
Named one of my dogs after Scott Schoeneweis.
Reintroducing myself before opening day:
Die hard Chicago White Sox fan that recently relocated to Baltimore and is excited to post horny tweets about Adley Rutschman. Chronic shitposter and co-founder of
@AllSportsScene
. Talks about pooping.