So I went to a baseball game last night. Yea, baseball. Is it really any wonder that the official "American Pastime" is one of the least athletic sports out of the 4 big 'uns (Football, Basketball, Baseball, Soccer)? Just a thought. And why is it that baseball games must have random injections of pop culture and poorly performed entertainment during the game? Wait...is it because the game itself is not entertaining enough? Could it be?
The one saving grace is that you are outside, and being outside is great, even if you are sitting around eating peanuts and hotdogs the entire time.
But did I have a good time? That, of course, is the question. Of course I did. I did because I was with the right people. I could probably attend a funeral of a deeply loved baby raccoon who had been mauled by gang-banging wharf rats and, with the right crowd at hand, have a blast. Andi's sister and her sister's husband had box seat tickets which is a level of richness and glory I could've never have hoped to attain by my own means. (Thank you) The running commentary on the surroundings alone by all of us was better than 6 hours of watching Clint Eastwood squint.
And that's why people rock. Get the right people around you and any potentially bad situation seems to come out smelling like roses.
Today/Tonight: moving, PF Chiangs, possibly bowling...life freakin' rocks
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