So maybe I don’t hate all sports?
I don’t know if our mugs made it onto your TV’s. I do know that I didn’t get a lot of knitting done. Also that when Beltre hit that first home run for the Rangers, a primal redneck WHOOOOOOO! sailed out over the ballpark with about 46,000 others.
Yeah, I know. Somebody hand me a bottle of Pace to pour over this generous helping of crow, wouldja?
I asked Beloved, “Would it freak you out if I said I wanted a Rangers hat to wear to the game next month?”
“No, we’ll go to Academy.”
“Or Albertsons.” Nod, nod.
Yu Darvish didn’t pitch last night. I think the boy is seriously cute, but not in an “I’d better repent before I go teach Primary” way. I wonder if Beloved would freak out if I told him I kinda sorta want a Darvish shirt to go with my [hypothetical] Rangers hat. We’ll see how next month’s game goes.
I had better have other knitting to take. That alpaca pillow cover was a wee bit warm, up there in the stands.
In other news, Beloved found my fishing license. In the case with my travel fishing pole. I think we glossed right over it. I was expecting a long white strip of paper, not a small red carrying case that said Wal-Mart, with the license all folded neatly inside it. Utilizing the female logic which he acquired from 35 years with Wife1.0 and the additional six months with me, he grinned and quipped,“Female logic says that since I found your license, and we don’t have to pay $10 at Wal-Mart to get a replacement license, I can add that $10 to my Father’s Day gift card and spend it at Bass Pro, right?”
I cannot argue with that logic. Especially if I want a Darvish shirt next month.
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!