World Series Watching

Baseball - America's favorite pass time. Well, I have never been on board. My earliest memories of baseball include:

• My sister and me playing baseball with a tennis ball in the backyard. It was my turn to pitch, and when she hit the tennis ball, she meant it, and she drove it straight into my eye. There was a black eye and an eye patch worn to school for several days.
• The week after the eye patch was removed, we played baseball in the street with my parents...with an actual baseball. My dad hit aforementioned baseball and drove it straight into my shin. There was a sickening moment when I thought my leg was broken (yes, I was a drama queen even then). Turns out, it was just badly bruised. I took a hiatus from baseball.
  
• In junior high, all the girls played sports. As I had already failed miserably at basketball, was not yet brave enough to try out for cheerleading, and we had no volleyball team, I tried my hand at softball (not baseball, but same thing to me). I managed to hit the ball once...for the entire season...and got tagged out at first.

Therefore, I do not have an affinity for baseball. Also, I find watching it about as interesting as watching paint dry.

Anyway, in case you've been living under a rock (or not in Texas, where something else may be newsworthy), the Texas Rangers are playing in the World Series, and my beloved Dallas Cowboys are the worst team in sports not playing well. Therefore, I have been relegated to watching baseball.

Last night was game one of the World Series, and Michael decided it was high time for me to "suck it up and jump on the bandwagon." He arranged for a night out to mark this occasion.




We started our night at Saltgrass Steakhouse. I was surrounded by $5 appetizers and $2 beers and was, therefore, quite content. The game started out well with the Rangers scoring two runs quickly. There were high fives being given and jubilant chatter among the three patrons in the bar. Then, the Giants decided to dominate the rest of the game. At that point, my appetizers were gone, and no one was allowed to speak, and the tension was as thick as Jello. So, I spent much of the rest of the time at Saltgrass trying to figure out why there was a jackalope (pictured above) mounted and hung in the bar and texting my BFF begging her to come entertain me...which she refused to do.



After Michael and his dad decided all hope was lost, Michael and I went to Sport's City. As you can see, there were more than three patrons in the bar. It was a drunken sea of red and blue, and I kept having to shove my way through the drunks to get to the restroom. So, eventually I posted up near the bathrooms and was continuously shoved out of the way by other patrons who had drank too many beers.



I'm thinking this giant soccer ball beer dispenser had something to do with the drunken part. Apparently, for $20, you can rent that thing out, fill it with beer and bypass having to wait for a bartender/cocktail waitress to serve you.


I stuck to my mug...please note the awesome t-shirt that was purchased for me specially for this occasion. It is unfortunate that you cannot see that "Texas" is written in red glitter. That was my favorite part.


Michael also stuck to a mug...and his perpetual baseball cap. At least it was appropriate to the event.



When this picture was taken, my feet were very sore because I was in high heeled boots and had no place to sit. The boots were necessary as I am very short, and my jeans were made for average-sized humans. I had had one too many beers and was sleepy and ready to be in my sweats...not watching baseball. We left at 10, and the football lover (me) had to console the baseball lover (Michael) by saying, "at least this isn't football where it's one and done. They have six more chances to make it right." This made him feel better. So, I think I did my duty as a bandwagon fan.

Go Rangers!

Hypothetically speaking

Sometimes, when you live in a shoe box, and you’re disorganized by nature, and you need to do laundry, all of your bras are dirty or lost or both. And sometimes, you’re running late and your bottom drawer is open, and there are clean, never-been-worn-because-you-failed-at-breast-feeding nursing bras staring back at you. And sometimes you just put one on because it’s underwear and you are not a stripper, and you are certain you will be the only one who knows you’re wearing a nursing bra.

Inevitably, on that day, you will be wearing a dress that gaps up top and tells the world you are wearing a nursing bra and your friend will see it and laugh at you. I’m not saying this happened to me. I’m just saying, hypothetically, it could happen to someone who lives in a shoe box, is disorganized by nature and needs to do laundry.

How about another edition of "what you've missed"?

"Stop!"

My son is incredibly defiant. I was so hoping for a child who would instantly "stop" doing whatever unpleasant/dangerous/awful/annoying thing he was doing the moment he heard me tell him not to do it. However, upon hearing the word "no" or "stop," Silas looks at me, smiles, and returns to whatever it is he is doing. I repeat "no" or "stop" five more times and he smiles at me each time and goes about his business. Eventually, I have to walk over to him and, say, remove his tiny hand from the dog bowl and remove his entire being from the kitchen and put up the baby gate to keep him from returning to the dog bowl.

"Home sweet home"

I'm not sure if you have ever had the pleasure of sharing a one bedroom apartment with a toddler. In case you have not been so lucky, I will inform you that a one year old owns too much crap not to have his own bedroom. My living room much resembles a Toys R Us. There are mega blocks and board books hiding under every available surface, nook and cranny, people. And so the search for a bigger place has begun.

"Jack-o'-m-g-this is hard"

Saturday was pumpkin carving day. Stencils were purchased, newspaper was placed on the coffee table, and the tops were cut out of each of the two pumpkins.

This is where I should explain that my recollection of pumpkin carving is from childhood. So, all I remembered was it being awesome...because I was eight...and someone else was doing all the hard stuff. Pumpkin carving resulted in me, my couch, my floor and my son getting covered in pumpkin guts and my hand cramping up a thousand times while I whined, "why is this so hard?!"

Sunday I issued an apology to my mother. Why? Two weeks prior to pumpkin carving Saturday, my reply to my mother's declaration of her pumpkin carving days being over was, "suck it up, you have a grandson now!" I'm not sure how she hung in there for as many years as she did.

Smiley Pumpkin

Scary Pumpkin

Whew, that was close

Despite the fact that I am, um, financially challenged, my son had me seriously considering quitting my job yesterday.

Normally when I arrive to pick him up in the afternoons, he lights up and shows me all six of his teeth, and wraps his arms around my calves.

However, yesterday, halfway into the twenty foot walk from the door to him, he was still looking at me like I was a stranger. When I got to him and picked him up, he started screaming like he had no idea who I was and reached for the baby sitter. (Sadly, I drew a correlation between his spaz out and the fact that I fixed my hair and wore make up to work...do your own math).

Needless to say, I sat on the front steps and cried after he went to bed last night.

This morning, I made sure to say things like, "mommy is wearing a blue shirt today. Please remember mommy" when I dropped him off and vowed to quit my job and move in with a relative if he staged a repeat performance.

Lucky for us, he did as he was told and remembered mommy this afternoon. So, I shall be making another appearance at the office in the morning.

It was a close call.