I know I haven’t blogged in a long time. Life goes on status quo and then life explodes and I don’t have the time or desire to write about it. What’s new? Nothing and everything.
But today, I’m going to share a slice of my life that happened last night.
Last night Bill placated me by changing seats at the baseball game. The game was a blowout and it was in the late innings, so a lot of people had left. We sit right behind the dugout (the dugout is where the players sit, for those of you who aren’t familiar with baseball) and we are partial season ticket holders. Two gals came and sat behind us (in seats they did not pay for), and the first thing I hear one of them say is, “I wonder if they’ll notice us here?” and she starts whistling. I have a very low bimbo tolerance. So I ask Bill if we can move. He wanted to know why (be barely noticed the girls there. REALLY???). The other option (if I were a beer drinker) is I could have yelled to one or more of the players and made sure the guys noticed the bimbos. I thought of it briefly. But I don’t drink beer.
So we moved over to the next section (also pretty much empty, and better seats all told) and I was able to enjoy the rest of the game. Then when we left we saw said bimbos waiting where the players come out after they shower. Okay, girls, let me tell you a secret. These guys are in the minor leagues of the minor leagues. They get paid so much that they have host families that they stay with. Some of the players are married. Some don’t speak English. Pretty much 99% of them will never see a major league game from anywhere but the stands. So what is it you’re after? Give me a break.
And this is what my husband has to put up with. Almost every day.