Today’s theme song:
For the first time in three weeks or something like that, I’ve got a softball game scheduled for tonight. My excitement is currently tempered, however, by the rainfall that accompanied me all the way to work this morning – with the exception of the dry stretch near Red Hill. I need this. As noted yesterday, it was a rough football week for me. I’ve stopped following the Mets altogether with the exception of R.A. Dickey starts since he’s still got an outside chance at winning the National League Cy Young Award. Beyond that, it’s been another lost season for the Mets, one which I have neither the energy not the inclination to bother writing about. So please. Just don’t let it rain this afternoon/tonight. Should we play and win, there’s a chance that for one of the few times in history that Monday will be better than Sunday.
Now, of course, I really want to play, but there is another reason I really want the game to work out. It’s scheduled for a 6:15 start time which means Lynnette and Madison can come. I love it when my girls are able to come out to the games, even if it means Lynnette does more watching of Madison that my game. That daughter of mine can be a handful, I tell you. But if it rains, the likelihood is that they won’t come. They’ll stay home, eat dinner, look at Pinterest for half-an-hour, then be in bed around the time I get home. So please, weather gods, be kind.
Worst case scenario: My team sits in the dugout as rain falls and all my stuff gets wet.
Best case scenario: It doesn’t rain at all after 11 this morning, the field is dry, and there’s no fear of a rain out.
Likeliest scenario: It will be overcast and drizzle on and off all day, holding me hostage.
The highlight of the weekend came at the very end. I was in bed watching Salt. This is my Sunday night routine: I flip through channels looking for a movie that might interest me enough to make me feel obligated to watch it past my bedtime. Well, I fully expected to spend my night alone, like most school nights when Lynnette sleeps with Mad in her room. And then, all of a sudden, Lynnette emerged from the darkness of the hallway with the iPad.
“You’re back, Sens!” I said. “She (the Goob) went down easily tonight,” she said. If I had a tail, it would have been wagging. She settled into bed and resumed her Pinterest browsing. I snuggled up next to her and followed the flow of food images. We’ll likely end up trying out a recipe for a pineapple upside down cake margarita. It looks good, at least. I’m sorry. Pinterest doesn’t hold my attention for longer than a few minutes because it makes me hungry to look at all that food. Last night, all I could think of while I was dry humping Lynnette’s leg was sushi. How is there not a good sushi place in Mililani? This is a huge oversight.
Anyway, it was wonderful to have Lynnette at my side again last night, right up until about 11:15 when Madison stirred and shouted “Mom! Why aren’t you with me?” You know what they say: It’s better to have dry humped and lost than to never have dry humped at all.