Friday, July 31, 2009

I harvested the garlic today. I'm guessing about 50 pounds of Mexican Roja. We'll be sharing.

Thursday, July 30, 2009

Cool it

I had to go into Salem today. No biggie, except my little rig doesn't have AC and, even though the temperature to day is only 96 degrees, I was roasting when I wasn't rolling. And when I wasn't rolling, I took a couple photographs.

Ray Bradbury wrote a short story, the title which now escapes me, of how a certain temperature, quite possibly in the mid nineties, flips a switch in people. makes them more than cranky. Does things to their brains.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

A hot one

It's 105.5°F in the shade right now. Tomorrow is supposed to be hotter. Thunderheads are forming over the mountains, which means forest fires from now until October. The birds are sitting in their sprinkler, not moving. The dog and cats are lying on the tile floor in the bathroom.
DW picked some broccoli, basil and mint this morning before it got to be tar-bubble hot. I went out a bit later and picked the above, Armenian and lemon cucumbers. Good thing I went out when I did, as the plants were requiring water, even though I watered the garden the day before yesterday. We're getting more veggies than we and our neighbors can eat. A trip to the food bank is in the offing.

I took a bag of beets, various squash and cucs to some friends who have an orchard and traded for gooseberries, peaches and early apples (Transparents, which are green and tangy.), and it was on that trip that I heard the road popping underneath my tires.

Armenian cucumbers are related to the honeydew melon. They have a cucumbery taste and are typically pickled. I cut up four of the bigger ones, sliced up an onion, added honey, rce vinegar, olive oil, salt & pepper. We'll let it sit for 24 hours and then eat it over the next 3 days. By then the temperature is supposed to be down to 90.

Monday, July 27, 2009

Part of editing is rethinking

I am in the process of rewriting a grant proposal.

In the section above the below paragraph I had written about the importance of maintaining an open dialogue about and inquiry into various art forms.

"This practice does not necessarily come easy. For instance, I have always loved Nature; yet, apart from the documentation needs of a naturalist, I saw no real purpose to photographing the natural world in its varied beauty, especially if I was going to call it “art.” “Artistic,” perhaps, but nothing more, for Nature does it better. Still, I was tempted. Over the last six years of farming, I have developed a special relationship with the land, one in which I have been able to develop a narrative and shape a commentary. And, only lately have I been able to claim a landscape photograph of mine to be more than just a pretty picture."

Now, the rewrite after mulling it over a couple days and time spent reading what others have said about art inspired by the landscape about them:

"One would think with this rather “open-minded” approach to the art making, I would have no problem with landscape photography, yet that has not always been the case. It is obvious that artists in the Northwest have a special affinity for landscape photography and painting. I have always loved Nature; yet, apart from the documentation needs of a naturalist, I saw no real purpose to photographing the natural world in its varied beauty. Still, I was tempted, and I indulged, but did not call those photos art. “Artistic,” perhaps, but nothing more, for Nature does it better. Yet, over the last six years of farming, I have developed my own special relationship with the land, one that I share with other farmers and from which I have been able to develop a narrative and shape a commentary. Only in the last two years have I been able to claim a landscape photograph of mine to be more than just a pretty picture."

Just thought I'd share.

Sunday, July 26, 2009

Yesterday was poker day

Well, not all of yesterday, although I’d be hard pressed to tell you what else I did except the dishes… Oh, I wrote. I’m trying to make something of myself in the form of a grant proposal.

“Aside from farming and making art, I also play poker.” Right. Write.

Now, where was I?

With the Poker Academy Reunion Tourney under my belt, I was out the door and on my way to Phil’s. In that he and his wife, Julie, live up the canyon near one of my fishing holes, I said to DW, “Maybe I should take a rod and some shrimp just in case I decide that I’d rather go fishing than play poker.” She thought it a good idea, yet I gave it a second thought and decided that I would rather come back home.

I had never been to Phil’s house, and his directions took me onto a side of the river I had not been on either. Turns out there’s a bridge across the Santiam in the small town of Gates. And his road ran along the river. Phil and Julie live right on the river. I was a bit jealous. Their house is gorgeous, and looks brand new, as well it should as much of it was destroyed when a huge fir fell on it last winter. The house is actually about 60 feet up on a ridge, yet one can see the river below, and my steelheader’s eye could see that they had one helluva great fishing hole out their back door. Julie confirmed, “That’s the I-Line hole, one of the best on the river.”

Phil had put a couple polish dogs on the grill for this late arrival, so I went over to chat him up. “Phil, you fish?”

“Some. Let me show you my fishing shack.” They have a small A-frame that doubles as a lounge and storage shed, and along the wall were several spinning and fly rods. To make a long story short, as I most assuredly angled for an invite, I can fish from their bank anytime I want.

Julie and Phil are very nice people. And the folks in attendance were all pleasant enough. I knew several of the people as they also play at R’s home game. Julie was a most gracious host, glad that I had come, and made sure that I met the people I didn’t know. R was there, along with his girlfriend. It seems that during my absence over the last few months, she has become a fairly good poker player, placing or taking down several pub tourneys in recent weeks.

Polish dogs devoured, I asked, “So, we gonna play some poker?”

“I mentioned it and you could see it in their eyes that they’re ready to play.”

And then someone said something about playing Pictionary. Men against women. And we played. I’ve not played this game before, and while I was not so good at guessing what the hell people were trying to convey in their drawings, I must say that when it was my turn to go to the board, the MFA came in handy. Now, I must back up a bit. One of the people I met, a guy whose name I have forgotten, was an interesting bloke. A lot of older tattoos and a sleevless shirt (sleeves removed), a smallish guy with a scraggly beard and a voice in a higher register. Elsewhere, like in Chicago, one might think transgendered. Not in this crowd, nice as they are. This guy was guessing correctly a number of times, and as everyone had their eyes affixed to the drawings, did not immediately know that the points for that round should be awarded to the men. Clarification was needed more than once. R’s girlfriend, is a Pictionary pro. The better communicators won.

Okay, now we can play some poker. A quick call to the DW to let her know there was cell service and to listen to her incredulity that I had engaged in a game other than poker. (It was fun.) Meanwhile, a discussion ensued inside the house as to whether we would be playing .20/.40 or .25/.50. I could have talked longer as the bank never was clear on the level and doled out 20% more chips than necessary. Once that was cleared up, we had a ten-handed game at the dining table.

I positioned myself so R and Phil were on my right, and Bev was to my left. R doesn’t get out of line postflop, so I would be able to see anything coming that said get out of the way. Phil, on the other hand will play any two suited cards. I definitely wanted to be on his left. Bev is a rock, so I didn’t figure her to be in many hands, which she wasn’t.

Phil also likes to raise it up whenever he is going to be playing that 7 9h, so when he bet 4 x BB from UTG and I looked down at pocket tens, I 3-bet him to make it heads up. A full six players called my re-raise. The flop came 995, two hearts, and when it was checked to me, I jammed with my short buy-in, my remaining $7.00. One caller, Mike with K9c. I suppose I could have checked and folded. I reloaded for $20.00.

I wish I could remember all of the hands, but suffice it to say that I never looked back, even though I know that I never won a hand with anything better than top pair. Pots were often $10 or more as folks were drinking (Pepsi, please) and within two hours I was up $10. R made a good lay down with second pair yet scoffed when the rabbit card gave him two pair against my better two pair. Coulda been fun. I also had a chance with my own K9c to put me over the top against Julie’s pocket Jacks.

I had forgotten to bring along certain time-sensitive supplements, so I had to cut my game short and bid a fond farewell. At the risk of coming off a bit mushy, I told the people I knew well that I missed playing poker with them. There are a lot of laughs and ribbing at these games, which I am sure all appreciate. Still, the menfolk responded in a manner that loses at Pictionary.

Today was poker day

It’s late. Late-ish. A little after midnight. Not too late to hit the 0100 jamfest in the PLO micros, but I think I’ll pass tonight. I’ve had a pretty full day at the tables already, and it’s been positive. No need to push my luck.

A few days ago, Phil, one of the guys from the home game I played in (until the ticker thing) called and invited me to a BBQ at his house up the canyon. Will there be a poker game? Yes. The BBQ starts at 1400 and poker will commence around 1800. Perfect, except for a slight snag: there was an Old-timers tourney at Poker Academy that I already committed to for Saturday, and it starts at 1600. I told him I’d get out to his place as soon as it was over. He said, “See you about 1700.”

“Fuck you, Phil.” He knows I like him. “Thanks for inviting me but you’re still a fuckhead.”

Poker Academy isn’t what it used to be. Mind you, a good game can still be had, but there is an influx of people who are there purely for entertainment. Now, while this mirrors the real world, meaning where actual money is on the tables, I believe in the early days of the software some of us had the notion that the membership had higher goals, namely to master NLHE with the help of equally serious students of the game, and then go out and kick some ass. Now, for some, it’s just a video game, and for others, a chat room. Still, there are enough good players left who are willing to help newbies along if they are so inclined, and enough good players, many better than I, to offer a challenge for growth. The Old-Timers, as one might guess, are such a group.

I believe this is the third year for this tourney, which is a bit funny since PA has only been around since 2005. In early 2006, PA changed the format of the ranking system, along with making several improvements to the program, and the upgrade was called 2.5. Old-timers are folks from the 2.0 days. The designation “Old-timers” is even more humorous when one considers that the initiator of the annual tourney is now 15 years old. That’s right, he started when he was eleven.

We only had twelve starters, which is a bit disappointing, yet it was great to play with some folks whom I don’t often get a chance to go up against. A lot of them are primarily tourney players or play at hours I am normally elsewhere. And since I don’t play many tourneys (this may be the second or third this year), I was at a disadvantage. I spent most of the tourney just watching in amazement, yet making mental notes the whole way.

I played a tight game, for again, I was out of my element. The fourth hand in I lost a sizeable pot with and underfull but got it back a few hands later when I 3-bet in late position with pocket 8s. I knew that hands had a value in tourneys that they don’t have in ring, so I raised and c-bet pairs bigger than sevens on dry boards. It worked. A flopped boat didn’t hurt either, and before the second level had ended, I had doubled up.

After spinning my wheels for several levels, I made another run, hitting top pair on the flop or middle pair with a flush draw, and at these later levels, aggression pays extra dividends. Still, with five players left, and even though I was the chip leader, I knew I was in a precarious position, for I had no real end game strategy. I’d need a little help. I started to blind off at an alarming rate and was soon in the middle of the pack. And calling an all-in with A4c (maybe for you CK) didn’t help when I ran into a set of sixes on the flop. The shortest stack became the chip leader and I was now back to barely more than my initial chips. Two hand later I had doubled up when my A8o raise went uncontested and another A8o rivered an Ace. Five hands later I flopped the nut flush.

When the play became three-handed I was once again the short stack, with Galak, by far the more experienced tourney player, with the chip lead. And I got lucky: his A7 against A4. River was a 4.; his A8d against my KJoff, and a King on the flop. And it wasn’t too many hands later that Lobo43 and I were heads up.

Now, here’s where it gets interesting. I have almost a 2:1 chip advantage over Lobo when we get HU. For the first few hands Lobo and I are swapping chips like lovers swap spit, but he is a bit more aggressive than me and he’s chipping away, eventually just 1500 chips behind. The door at the top of the basement door opens and DW calls out, “He’s back!” I know what this means. The guy who is camping out around the corner is paying us a visit, the second one today. I may attempt to put pen to paper on this slice of our life in the next few days, but for now, let me just say that I was now in a pickle. She came down the stairs. “Will you handle him?”

No self-respecting Man of the House is going to say, “No, Honey, I’m heads-up in this tournament. You take care of it.” Instead, I said, “Shit! Here, sit down and just hit fold unless you have a good hand.” While DW does not play poker, and has not used this software, over the last three years she has heard enough of my stories that she could probably hold her own against any newbie. And if she happened to bust out, well then, I could use it as an excuse; or if she took down the whole thing, then her laughter and smile would mean more than winning a WSOP bracelet. Well, maybe a circuit ring.

I was done with the camper in three hands: K7off and 4s6d twice. DW said, “I let Lobo sweat it a bit before folding.” Good woman. I sat back down to AQo, a pair of fives, Ac2h, all winning the blinds, and the coup de grace:

Poker Academy Online #68,110,965, T#367
No Limit Texas Holdem ($300/$600 NL)
Table PA Reunion Tourney 2009 #2
July 25, 2009 - 18:00:52 (PDT)

1} bastin $9,860 8h Ah
2) Lobo43 * $8,140 8s Kc

Lobo43 posts small blind $300
bastin posts big blind $600
Lobo43 raises $1,200
bastin raises $3,600

He tanks. Throughout the tourney he has been talking about having to go to a concert. It is his speech. He mentions it again and...

Lobo43 raises $2,740 (all-in)
bastin calls $2,740
bastin shows 8h Ah
Lobo43 shows 8s Kc

FLOP: Th Ad Qs

TURN: Th Ad Qs Qd

On the turn I typed into the chat "J."

RIVER: Th Ad Qs Qd Ac

bastin wins $16,280 with a Full House, Aces over Queens

I wholly expected the death knell.” C’est le poker,” as the PA baby flush chasers say. Perhaps DW expected the same, for when I emerged from my dungeon within two minutes after her departure, she expressed dismay.

I usually don’t high-five, especially with my spouse. Soooo unromantic. But that smile…

It is much later now. The jamfest is most likely wearing down. Tomorrow, dear friends, I will give you the home game.

Saturday, July 25, 2009

Friday, July 24, 2009

Today I took some photos

Hay season is pretty much over, even though there are still fields in the area that have yet to be baled. We had our back ten acres cut and baled a couple times, but the yield was pretty low and we broke even on the deal, having a gentleman do the cutting and bailing while we did the hauling and stacking. Time-wise, we’d be in the hole on the endeavor. A lot of farm stuff is like that, so we quit selling hay.

A more trained eye than mine can tell the difference between a hay field yet to be baled and a grass seed field windrowed waiting for harvest. However, once the grass seed field has been burned, there is no doubt. Farmers started harvesting grass seed about a week ago, filling 50-foot trailers with the seed. They are in full gear, and some have already burned their fields. Little particles of burned chaff travel for miles, pushed thousands of feet into the air by the rising clouds of smoke. As the smoke drifts, daylight takes on a distinct orange tinge.

Recent state legislation has made 2009 the last year most of the grass seed farmers will be able to burn. There is much controversy, and many farmers are wondering what they will do for a crop next year. Already many of the grass fields are being tilled under. I am of a mixed mind on the subject.

Some readers will remember that last year I photographed the burned fields and posted some of the photos. It is a project that I thought about doing for a few years and finally got around to it last year. Such is farm time: it’ll get done when there’s time, or when it absolutely needs done. I am glad that I was able to get some fine shots last season, and now that this will be the last year for burnings, I am determined to record the practice for my own purposes, and for posterity.

I will be posting more shots in the future, and also explain what I am thinking about as I shoot and edit.

I crop some of photos to isolate the geometric shapes created in the fields. The two-dimensional (flat) aspect of photography echoes the same in painting. I am referencing neo-geo painting from the 70s and 80s.I have some work to do in Photoshop for these two photos for the blacks are not quite what I want. Time of day (early afternoon) has some effect as well, washing out some of the richness. The top one reminds me of some Clyfford Still paintings. I wish the background in the the second one was sharper. Understand that there is a lot of smoke and dirt in the air because of the burning and tilling.

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Searching for rainbows

Sometimes there are happy accidents. You just have to be there doing what you're doing, and you're handed a gift.
I have been trying to photograph fields being irrigated by the big gun sprinklers, figuring I might get some interesting light shows in the mist. While one readily sees rainbows, and this may make a nice enough photo, there's something about the whole process that I find intriguing, from the huge rigs used to get water out into the field, to the rhythm of the spray. I particularly like the way the incomplete color spectrum suggests that the field is on fire.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

More day-in-the-life and death on the farm

With tears in her eyes, DW showed me the remains of one of the juvenile owls in some tall grass not too far from their nesting box. It had been dead for quite some time, meaning that all of the flesh was gone, dried up, just bones and feathers, and it was missing its head. A quick google revealed little except a reference to red tail hawk predation on owls and the possibility of the hawk only getting to eat the head before being scared off. I’m not quite convinced that this is what happened.

It is a ritual for our dog, Annie, and me to go out for her last walk about midnight every evening. Ever since we discovered the baby owls, Annie and I have gone back to the barn to listen to them squeaking for their mother to bring them a partially digested vole. One made a louder noise than the other, which we discovered later was because one was somewhat older. If we got too close, and momma owl was nearby, she would let out a bone-chilling screech to warn us off.

One night about three weeks ago, and just after one of the juveniles was beginning to fly, we saw an owl flying between the barns, screeching frantically, and so we kept our distance. I didn’t think much more about it until today. If my assumption is correct, I think it was a Great Horned Owl that killed the juvenile, for we have them in the nearby woods, and because what we witnessed was at night.

I had been no more than six feet away from the carcass any number of times over the last few weeks as the spigot for the watering system for our garden is nearby. I don’t believe either DW or I wanted to have to see it on a regular basis anymore, so when she mentioned that she would move it, I added it to my list of evening chores and took it upon myself to do the deed.

It was a rather warm day today, so the bulk of the afternoon and early evening was spent indoors doing some writing for a grant proposal. I headed outdoors about 6 o’clock and was welcomed by the sound of lawn mowers and tractors. We haven’t had rain in over three weeks, which was about the last time I had to mow our lawn, and it still has another few days to go before I’ll consider another round on the Deere.

The neighbors were mowing their dirt. I wrote about these folks some time ago, and mentioned at the time that they engaged in this unnecessary exercise in extra fuel consumption every few days from the first dry day in early spring until the rains come in late October. I made a mental note at that time to be sure and get photos of this comedy. I missed an opportunity Saturday. Today, evening chores would have to wait. I apologize for the fence blocking much of the view of the wife on her lawn tractor, but I had to be as stealthy as I could. How would I explain myself? Pity the neighbors downwind.

Content with a couple good shots, I commenced with chores, one which wasn’t a chore at all, as it was picking what would be part of tonight’s dinner. In the photo is the last of our Buttercrunch lettuce (new starts are in the ground), Purple Beauty bell peppers, and Lemon cucumbers.

The owl nesting box is now empty. We haven’t seen or heard an owl in several days. I will now be able to do some mowing, or rather, bush hogging between the barns and bring the old Ford tractor out to power wash off the owl scat. I will put a tarp over it when I put it back in the lean-to, for we will have owls again.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

-Insert some cute comeback here-

First hand:

PokerStars Pot-Limit Omaha, $0.02 BB (8 handed) - Poker-Stars Converter Tool from

Hero (CO) ($5)
Button ($3.23)
SB ($6.09)
BB ($4.19)
UTG ($4.88)
UTG+1 ($2.05)
MP1 ($2.95)
MP2 ($3.22)

Preflop: Hero is CO with 9, Q, 7, 5

1 fold, UTG+1 calls $0.02, 1 fold, MP2 calls $0.02, Hero (poster) checks, 1 fold, SB calls $0.01, BB checks

Flop: ($0.10) 10, 7, J (5 players)

SB bets $0.10, BB calls $0.10, 1 fold, MP2 calls $0.10, Hero calls $0.10

Turn: ($0.50) 8 (4 players)

SB checks, BB bets $0.24, MP2 raises to $1.22, Hero raises to $4.40, 1 fold, BB calls $3.83 (All-In), MP2 calls $1.88 (All-In)

River: ($11.74) 5 (3 players, 2 all-in)

Total pot: $11.74 | Rake: $0.55


BB had J, 10, 7, 4 (two pair, Jacks and tens).

MP2 mucked 9, A, 10, 5 (straight, Jack high).

Hero had 9, Q, 7, 5 (straight, Queen high).

Outcome: Hero won $11.19

The BB and I had to be in the hand on the flop. What was MP2's excuse?

My roll is now back to even, thanks in part to this hand. I've tightened my range a bit, maybe knocking off anywhere from 2-4% of my hands played, and it seems to have done the trick. I'm also folding two pair in a jamfest and not drawing at OES unless I already hold the top end with something else to go with it. I can't say that I want to leave the PLO verion of The Deuce quite yet, simply because there are plenty of players who will make the mistakes I am leaving behind me. I'll wait until I have another five buy-ins at the dime table and reassess.

Monday, July 20, 2009

If it’s Monday…

Fishing plans with my friend Steve fell through again this week. He’s helping his mother move out of her house and it is cutting into valuable fishing time. He left me a text message, encouraging me to go over to the money hole and give him a report, and I accommodated. I wasn’t crazy about going alone. In fact, I had this mild sense of foreboding. I’d be up there alone, and, well, things can happen.

The picture is from the new hole, the one I wrote about two weeks ago. I hit it before going to our favorite spot. The sun was hot today and the plan was to fish in the shade for a few hours, and when the sun started to touch the top of the mountains, I’d move to the money hole, for it would then be shaded.

While the new hole looks promising, the jury is still out. Steve came up the day after we had been before, and while he saw a couple fish, they were not biting. I saw a lot of smolt (little fish), and caught a couple small trout, yet the big ones evaded me.

On a scale of one to ten, a day spent fishing without catching anything is at worst a six. Yet, there are things that can happen to bring that number down, like getting your rigging caught up in a tree branch out of reach. That will knock it down a bit. And when your new rig gets hung up underwater on a big rock and won’t come loose, that’ll bring it down to a five. And when in the process of trying to unsnag said rig, you hold the $150 fishing rod that your Dear Wife gave you for your birthday in such a manner that when sufficient pressure is put upon the base of the rod it snaps, the day is no more than a three for sure.

Oddly enough, I did not get upset. I just took a couple more pictures, gathered up my gear and headed back over the mountain toward home. And when I could again get phone service, I left a message for Steve. I didn’t tell him that I think the new hole is haunted.

Saturday, July 18, 2009

Ghosts in the machine

I've been playing the mini-minis in PLO while I adjust my game. It hurts less. And, as it turns out, it can be a lot more pleasurable time. With some of the pressure off, the chat flows a bit more readily.

YOUJUSTDOYOU said, "freakyboo"
YOUJUSTDOYOU said, "do you sleep at all lol"
No response. FREAKYBOO does seem to be on the tables any time I show up. His avatar is an illustration of a face close-up. The face seems to be missing flesh everywhere except the tip of its nose.
Man/nantuket said, "he had flush"
Man/nantuket said, "my trips no good"
APPAR1T10N said, "probably. but i wanted u to conquer him."
APPAR1T10N said, "w a JT"
Man/nantuket said, "kj"
BenOni :o)o: said, "I'd like to write a book, too: "Why APPAR1T10N is talking so much on PLO?" *g*"
APPAR1T10N said, "delirium is setting in, my bro."
bastinptc said, "he's a friendly chap is all, we could use more like him"
BenOni :o)o: said, "Get-a-doc."
APPAR1T10N said, "i just thought it was kinda funny it took him that long to think of that comment"
YOUJUSTDOYOU said, "figures"
APPAR1T10N said, "seriously, like 15 minutes had passed"
YOUJUSTDOYOU said, "hey freakybot"
YOUJUSTDOYOU said, "where's darien located?"
Again, no response.
bastinptc said, "there's one in Illinois"
(What's with all of these All caps nicks?)
bastinptc said, "I'll be the voice of Freakyboo tonite"
bastinptc said, "an "apparition" if you will"
APPAR1T10N said, "whoa wait, what happened?"
APPAR1T10N said, "oh gotcha"
bastinptc said, "go ahead ask freaky anything"
APPAR1T10N said, "was trying to check how many tables freakyboos sitting at."
bastinptc: folds - I don't plan on playing any hands in the next couple minutes. I'll be preoccupied with the chat.
YOUJUSTDOYOU said, "what happened to your face freakybot?"
APPAR1T10N said, "Hey, Freakyboo. Do you think the flowbee would be ok for trimming, you know...down there?"
bastinptc said, "flowbee happened to my face"
YOUJUSTDOYOU said, "lol"
APPAR1T10N said, "how come i cant find freakyboo? do caps count?"
bastinptc said, "as case sensitive as my exposed musculature"
YOUJUSTDOYOU said, "lolol"
APPAR1T10N said, "LOL"
BenOni :o)o: said, "*g*"

A lull in the conversation. I hit a set of tens in the SB and check. Appar1t1on takes a stab.
APPAR1T10N said, "i know the whole table missed that one"
bastinptc said, "not me"
APPAR1T10N said, "agh!!!"
He sooo wants to call my pot bet.
APPAR1T10N said, "oh man"
APPAR1T10N said, "u had the two case 10s"
No, the case ten was on the flop.
APPAR1T10N said, "I hit middle set and top and bottom pair"
APPAR1T10N said, "that was funny."
bastinptc said, "that was Omaha"
bastinptc said, "not here to clean folks out of pennies"
I lied. It's my favorite new line. Get them to like you...
bastinptc said, "here to have fun"
YOUJUSTDOYOU said, "freakyboo is though"
YOUJUSTDOYOU said, "he's playing like 9 tables"
APPAR1T10N said, "sh1t i am. im trying to build a bankroll"
YOUJUSTDOYOU said, "freakin freakyboo"
bastinptc said, "freakyboo is the paramount example of alienation of labor"
APPAR1T10N said, "lol"
YOUJUSTDOYOU said, "lol"
APPAR1T10N said, "frickin freakyboo"
Uncalled bet ($0.14) returned to bastinptc
APPAR1T10N said, "thats fun to say...frickin freakyboo"
bastinptc said, "BOO!"
And I call it a night.

Earlier in the session, before the chit-chat, I had a hand that is certainly the most memorable in recent play. The villain is a regular at this level. He knows how to play.

PokerStars Pot-Limit Omaha, $0.02 BB (8 handed) - Poker-Stars Converter Tool from

Hero (UTG) ($4.47)
UTG+1 ($0.93)
MP1 ($2.08)
MP2 ($12.50)
CO ($3.59)
Button ($3.74)
SB ($4.98)
BB ($1.67)

Preflop: Hero is UTG with 7, 8, A, 9

Hero calls $0.02, 1 fold, MP1 calls $0.02, MP2 calls $0.02, 2 folds, BB checks

Flop: ($0.09) 2, 5, 6 (5 players)

BB checks, Hero bets $0.10, 3 folds, Hero calls $0.30

Turn: ($0.49) J (2 players)

Hero calls $0.90

River: ($1.39) J (2 players)

Hero checks

Total pot: $1.39 | Rake: $0.10

Results in white below:

SB had 4, 9, 7, 8 (one pair, Jacks).

Hero had 7, 8, A, 9 (one pair, Jacks).

Outcome: Hero won $2.60

The villain kept firing, but slowed down a bit on the turn and checked the river. Does he think I have a boat. Possibly. I could bet but I have squadush. A value-sized bet? Any call and I'm toast. Then it occurs to me... I could be ahead. Still, better safe than sorry on this one. Afterall, I'm not here to lose all of my pennies. And that's the truth.