Thank heaven for major league baseball on tv! Alleluia, and then some. The romaine growing on my patio is doing The Wave (in slow motion). I am doing The Wave with inflated beach balls. If the magic invisible stadium organist played the macarena, I would do that, too. If Kate Smith bumped me out of my seat in the seventh inning stretch and started belting, "God Bless America," I would buy her a hot dog with relish. And one for my dad with kraut. And one for me with extra mustard. Life is good.Dad is charged up about the exciting Cubs game today. He knows all that went on, even if he can't figure out how to turn down the volume when I call.
For several months Dad's only interest has been cracker jacks. The staff advised me that eating caramel corn was considered a fine motor skill work-out at his age. Now we've got peanuts and pine tar. Yippee. So let's root, root, root for the old folks' home team. If they don't win it's a shame.
© 2010 Nancy L. Ruder
