Archive for baseball

Opinions confirmed

Posted in Current Events with tags , , , , , , , on March 10, 2012 by cwgala

GRIN #432

Take a look at this.

Lord in heaven. “What IS that?” you ask. It’s meatloaf. And, as I’ve always known, it does in fact suck. Fortunately, I didn’t actually make this. That would have run counter to my raw meat aversion. Instead, I purchased it–for the hub–from a place I quite like. And to see if I was missing anything. I am not. The flavoring was good and it smelled great. Here’s the problem. It looks–and tastes–like cat food. There’s just no way around it.

The texture is the problem. And with exhibit A, above, the problem is compounded. This is actually a stuffed meatloaf–a freaky ill-begotten spawn of my other ack-attack food, turducken. Why would you take good ham, good cheese and pollute it inside a loaf of meat? I’m still a little nauseous thinking about this.

Here it is on a plate: even less appetizing if that’s possible.

SECOND CONFIRMED OPINION: Baseballs/softballs hurt like hell when you catch them.

I learned this a long time ago. I’m not exactly a girly girl (okay, really, I am) but I do have an aversion to pain, in addition to raw meat. In sixth grade, I played one season of softball (ironically for The Cary News) and as a result of my ball-avoidance problem, the coach put me where the ball never goes (it’s either right or left field, I can never remember).

Anyway, it was a good bet. The ball only came to me once that season. Everyone was cheering for me to catch it, but I just stepped out of the way and let it drop to the ground. But instead of hitting the ground, it hit my thigh, and I cried like a baby. Not my finest moment.

ANYWAY, Tyler has baseball tryouts tomorrow and since the time hasn’t changed yet it would be dark before Jerry got home to throw him a few practice pitches. So I filled in. It was just as I remembered. You put a little heat behind that ball, even from an eight-year-old, and damn it hurts!

Me: Just roll it to me. Quit throwing it!

Tyler: Mom, just catch it!

Me: No!! It hurts!

Tyler: Quit jumping out of the way! You’re not even trying!

Me (jumping out of the way).

Tyler: Really, Mom?!!

Yes, really. It hurts. I am scared of catching baseballs and softballs even with a glove on. And, if I’m honest, I’m scared even when they’re just flying around. Frankly, volleyballs are no picnic either.

Anyway, I threw him the ball back and it clipped his right hand really hard and he started crying.

“I told you it hurt!” I said. “That’s why I get out of the way!”

And why I am not a good fill-in. Fingers crossed for tomorrow.

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I swear, it’s not what it looks like

Posted in Current Events with tags , , , , on June 19, 2011 by cwgala

GRIN #402

I have roughly two more weeks of work–hard work–to finish up before T tracks out of school and we go to the beach for the Fourth of July.

My goal is to disconnect from serious stuff by June 30th for at least a week. It’s time. Really. I think I deserve it. Want to know what I’ve written about in the past few weeks?

Kitchens, feet, exercise, the elderly, the SAT, retired military men, an Oxford Scholar, psychology, a fiction contest at NCSU and North Carolina mountain excursions.

In between I “helped” T build an leopard habitat, for which we scoured the ground for moss and I received no less than 36 mosquito bites in nine minutes. I also tied ribbon around forty sacks of candy for Tyler to to sell at his school’s economic fair. I cut the ribbon in pieces that would have been perfect for a dexterous leprachaun, not for me, so that task was done in a fit of cussing. Because I wasn’t going back to The Dollar Store ONE MORE TIME.

At around the same time I changed health insurance, which then sent a message to my eyeballs to dry up and practically fall out of my head, which, unfortunately, is not seen as a medical issue.

I’m sorry. Where was I going with this? Oh, yeah. No more serious stuff. The point is that my idea of the perfect vacation includes something wonderful to read. So one day last week I went to Mr. Mike’s Used Books where I picked up a book called “Naked” by David Sedaris.

Now, Sedaris is simply an awesome writer; he’s one of the THE best writers ever. His stuff is all non-fiction and it’s edgy and hilarious. He doesn’t censor himself to be politically correct like a lot of writers, me included.

I had actually kind of forgotten about Sedaris so I haven’t read all of his stuff so I’ll have a treasure trove of stuff to read over vacation. (I know. This makes me sound like an incredible nerd, but I don’t care).  Even better, Sedaris grew up in Raleigh, NC so much of his writing describes places I know of personally.

However, “Naked” has caused a bit of a stir in my suburbia.

“Mom!” Tyler yelled at me on the porch.

“What hon?” I asked, looking up.

He was so excited he couldn’t contain himself. “You’re reading NAKED?!!” He laughed hysterically. “Naked, naked, naked.  Are there butts in there?”

“Tyler! It’s a book! And you shouldn’t say ‘butts.’ Go get your cleats on for baseball.”

He bounced up the stairs, “Naaayked! Naaaayked! Mom’s readin’ about Naaayked people.”

This morning at the baseball game I had it in my lap in the event I didn’t feel like talking, which of course never happens.

“Nice book,” my friend said, reading the cover.

“Oh, it’s great,” I said. “The author grew up in…”

“Why did you bring that here?”Jerry interrupted.

From his look, I could tell he was reconsidering his opinion of me.

“It’s not pornography!” I said, rolling my eyes. “It’s a real book.”

“Still,” he gestured at the cover. Okay. There was a pair of men’s boxer shorts on the front.

This afternoon I took it up to the pool to read in peace. I sat by the diving board, away from all the little kids since I was by myself.

Bad idea.

I was at least two hours in when I noticed one girl almost fall because she was craning her neck to keep her eyes on the cover of my book as she walked to the diving board.

Two teenage boys glanced in my direction, too, smiling. Or maybe they were snickering. Look at that old lady reading Naked.

That’s it. I packed it in and headed for home.

From now on, I’ll enjoy Naked in private.

The joy of being a boy

Posted in Mars and Venus with tags , , , on April 15, 2010 by cwgala

GRIN # 81

One day I saw a young girl with long hair down to her waist. It reminded me of me.

“Mom used to have hair like that,” I said to Tyler, who was in the backseat. “Gram used to have to spray it with No More Tangles and yank all the knots out of my hair every night. It hurt.”

“It’s a good thing I’m not a girl,” Tyler said.

“Yep. It’s good to be a boy.”

“And since I’m a boy I don’t have to get pregnant and have babies cut out of my stomach,” he said.

“Uh…”

Really, he was right. He wouldn’t have to do that. And that was a good thing.

“And I can play baseball. Girls can’t.”

“Well, girls play softball. It’s basically the same thing.”

“No it’s not.”

“Dude, I played softball.”

“Mom, did you know dude is for boys and dudette is for girls?”

“Where did you learn that?”

“School.”

At least it’s a well-rounded curriculum, dude.