Baseball Night in America

It's baseball night at Myers house. Our team took home their second win of the season (we are now 2-1). Jackson had a monster hit. John did a cracker jack job as third base coach. And I kept accurate and complete stats for the team book. But please let me know if the baseball police are coming cause I'll have to explain what happened in the second inning when I was admiring Erin's green tongue, and then was digging for some money to send a sibling child to the concession stand for a coke. What a convenient thing it must be to have more than one child. Anyway I get the meat of the game at 100%. Maybe not all the balls and strikes. After all a gals got to have a cold drink.

Baseball is a community affair. The entire sports community spends their nights and their days on these fields. After playing nine years (and counting two seasons of fall ball- 11 total seasons of baseball) you get to know people. People that you've played with before. People that you go to school with. People that played football. People that have played on opposing teams for nine years. And that' s not even taking into account all the people that John gets to know from his Parks and Rec gig. It's a great baseball community. My next door neighbor and good friend Trish was on the field next to ours watching Cameron play.

And now for something completely different. And completely ridiculous This is the cat in the fire place. What might make a cat curious enough to thread himself into the fireplace. Birds. For the past several years we've had a bird built a nest in the heat vent of the fireplace. We can hear the little one's chirp when the mama brings a worm. Poor Brady's determined to figure it all out.

I noticed something when the boys were gone and I would sit quietly and contently watching tv. There is a bit of war going on between the birds and Brady. They sit and look in the house. Like a lot. Which if you happen to be afraid of birds, like I am, is very very creepy. I felt like I was being stalked out of some horror movie. The robin peering in at me from the kitchen window. The sparrow stalking me from the tree in the living room. I tell myself they are really just looking for the cat who obliviously must sit by the windows and glare at them. But who knows. Maybe I'm starring in some bird double feature.

Minnesota

The boys just returned from a road trip to Minnesota. Their beloved Red Sox were in Minneapolis for a few games against the Twins and the boys journeyed over 7 hours to watch.

Jackson reported that Iowa was full of corn, and that the cokes at the Metrodome were "salty." The wonder of travel. Watching baseball in a dome took a bit of getting used to.

Jackson wears this jersey all the time. It's an Adrian Peterson Viking football jersey. With hand sown lettering. Did I mention that it has to be hand washed. And that he likes to wear it like all the time.

I stayed home to glory in chick flicks and peace & quiet. Just me and the dogs. With only one interruption when the neighbor kids knocked on the door for assistance with a dog that was eating baby rabbits. The boys took these pictures so there were like 20 pictures of pitching ace Jonathon Papelbon. Jackson loves Paps. Ok. So do I. Except when it's April and it's 30 degrees out and I've sat through 8 innings of baseball and I can't feel my feet or my nose even though I'm piled in winter coat, gloves and even an ugly hat. "Let's leave Papelbon won't pitch today." And then just as we hit the car we hear the announcer say "now pitching Jonathon Papelbon." I don't think Jackson will ever let me forget it.

Evidently they race fish in Minnesota. These five assorted fish run the bases for entertainment. Here in Missouri we race sausages. It's a big deal. A local dj was the mustard for a game and it sold out. Remember we haven't had much to cheer about for a number of years so the sausages do it for us.

It's just so funny. Run trout run. (say it like run forest run and you'll laugh too) There was a bear in the race. T.C. the bear ran after the fish and tackled them. This may have just been worth the 7 hour drive.

the Iris Festival

Deb and I journeyed to Powell Gardens today. We met this fascinating 93 year old man. He's an acclaimed horticulturist who is responsible for their Iris hill. He's been a member of the "Iris Society" since the 1940's. He greets visitors and easily shares his vast knowledge.

Deb loves, loves, loves Irises. She plans on making beautiful cards with all the great pics she took today. We asked the Iris man which was his favorite out of the 100's of color combinations on the hill. He replied "the one I looked at last."

This was my favorite. And the velvety dark purple ones. Oh and the soft buttery cream ones. And those exquisite black ones. And the Coral one's. And the soft yellow combined with the velvety purple ones.

Gone Fishing

It's the first day of summer here at Myers house. I don't care what the calendar says Memorial Day weekend is summer. We piled in the van and went fishing. Except in Cooper and I's case this meant taking a long leisurely hike in the woods. Yea right. There is nothing leisurely about a walk with Cooper. He pulls like a locomotive when he gets a wiff of those intoxicating smells of rabbit and birds. I always imagine my arm snapping off like a Barbie's. Or something off a SNL skit. Sometimes when I'm being tossed about I think about all the money we spent on doggie obedience. That all goes out the window when one little bunny has crossed the trail anytime in the last month. And I wonder for a few seconds why I didn't pick some tiny little breed like a pug. But ya really can't walk in the woods by yourself with a dinky dog. And I love big athletic dogs.

Cooper is a weird dog. He doesn't like water. Baths are torture. Remember he's not all golden. And what ever part isn't decided doesn't like water. But it's hot. Really hot. And he just wanted a cool drink and somehow he kinda fumbled into the lake. And discovered cool feels pretty good and must have thought I'll just kinda hang out here a bit.

The boys set up for some serious fishing.

And for some serious contemplation. Like "wonder why Cooper never liked the water before."

Remembering

Memorial Day is one of my favorite holidays. It was always a big deal to my Grandma Gerty too. She had a lot of death when she was young. Her Dad died in the big flu epidemic that struck in 1918. She was just 2 months old. Then her Mom died of ovarian cancer when she was 12. I inherited her Memorial Day gig. 21 graves. This year Deb and Erin shared in the duty.


It's a bit amazing that nearly all of my family is buried in just two country cemeteries. Three generations of Grotjans, Botts and Newsoms.

It's still very new to us to visit our beloved Grandma's graves. Especially Granny's. Feels like we should be bringing them a malt from the Dottie Delight and not flowers to decorate their graves stones.

And even the memories of going to the cemetery is one that we shared often with each of our grandma's. I wonder where it will fall in Erin's memories of child hood.

Scouting out a hike

I was a girl scout forever. Then I was a Brownie leader for two years ~ while I was still in college. So I was prepared when my sister asked me if I might help her take these cute little daisy girl scouts for a hike. Were they ever energetic. Man those little buggers burned rubber on the hike.

My sister is a fantastic leader.

My favorite part was when we did that friendship circle and sang about keeping friends "one is silver and the other's gold." The girls were so enthusiastic. The passing of "the squeeze" undertaken with such focus. They were truly committed to being a "sister to every girl scout."

It's been a busy week here at Myers house. Little Miss Erin gave a star performance at her preschool program. She was so proud.

Miss Lauren was there to cheer her on. And there was cake. The good stuff with the thick icing. I can't think of a better way to spend a Monday night.

Mom's Day

Did you see the world's best mom yesterday? Well if you were at Myers House you might have. I have the best Mom. And I have the best step-grandma too. And the best Aunt to my child. Let's just say I love my family. We gathered in an entire pew at my Mom's church yesterday. I grew up in that church. Played hide and seek in every crevice as a youth group member. Knew every cubbard as a Sunday School teacher. Knew every color in the stain glass windows as I was planning my wedding. And knew every face in the pews as I presented my baby to be baptised. And as far as churches go it was certainly good to be home again.

Afterwards we grilled a feast at my Mom's. Grandma Vernie was able to hang out with three of her great grandbabies.

Lauren was able to be silly in the way that only six year old girls can be.

And Erin was able to play with her beloved Uncle Johnny.

A good day was had by all.

In the Game

Colby's been at war these last four months. She has a disease called Auto Immune Hemoyltic Anemia, where her immune system attacks her red blood cells. It's bad stuff. 50% of the dogs who get it die within 2 weeks. My dog Elwood had the same rare blood disorder and died 16 years ago. But Colby's a warrior. We don't know if we are winning the war- but so far she's won every battle. This is her second "episode" of the disease. Her first was four years ago, and it's laid dormant in her body since then. No one knows what causes it to attack. It's treated with steriods. These make her puff up like a sheep. Maybe we could find some medicine that would make her head grow.

My boys are ate up about basketball. They've played it all winter long. So when we saw them head off for the court, Colby and I decided to join them. Colby really can only handle short walks. She's not up to full speed yet. And she's licked her front paw obsessively and has it sore and raw.

Colby wanted in the game. She just loves the boys and they love her. So they had to stall the game a bit for a love fest.

But she sat sweetly on the sidelines so the boys could finish the game.

These games have a lot of bragging rights. Well at least until tomorrow when they'll all go at it again.