I woke up this morning while the moon was still high above the water. My eyes snapped open and I thought "holycrapbaseball". Now I'm jonesing for a fix, typing a fanpost for McCovey Chronicles at 6:13am. Yes I have a problem- and if anyone tries to fix it I will claw their eyes out.

I fall harder for Giants baseball every spring. Last year she drugged me, stole a kidney and left in my car only after drawing dicks all over my face with a sharpie.They were still there when I got out of the ICU.

But then she went to rehab over the winter and now I'm dropping the restraining order. I'm bringing the kids back over for weekends. Canceling my plans with friends, lying about my whereabouts during split squad spring training games.

She's really changed, I tell my parents. Sure she's still dealing with the occasional Freddy Sanchez flare up, but on an spiritual level the Giants are just different. I'm not going to let her treat me like before, but that doesn't matter because now she would never trade a Joe Nathan for a A.J. Perzinski as the person she is today. Armando Benitez is ancient history and even her Mike DeRosa wrist-incident scars have begun to heal.

There will be no talk of Rowand,

Because she's in a better place, she's grown up emotionally. Just look at her roster- it's wearing a Belt and sporting a Hector Sanchez hairdo. She's even got that new fragrance by Gregor Blanco, the intoxicating scent of OBP wafting from her lineups.

Those past mistakes? They've only made us wiser, made our relationship richer. Remember Barry Zito? We can laugh about it now, so long as there aren't any knives in the room.

What's important going forward is that we're building a life together. And later this evening I'm going to get down on one knee and Buster Posey.