The Post with No Pictures

Opening Day is Thursday and as of this post, we don't know where Joe will be this year. More than likely, the big bosses have already made up their minds so it is just a matter of time before we know. I will be seeing Joe this weekend, be it in Pittsburgh (Majors) or Providence (Minors) I am holding my breath to find out. Today at church the sermon was about anxiety, and no better message could have been made for me today. Worry, said Ben Young our pastor, is looking in the future with the worst case scenario in mind, it is looking into a future without God.  And I know that whatever happens with and for Joe, God will be there no matter the outcome. I only wish I was there to be supportive. Giving major (pun intended) news via text or even phone call is not quite the same as in person. 


On Saturday we celebrated one of Joe's best friend's, Adam Z, birthday. Everyone brought their dogs and we all, canine and humans alike, enjoyed the sunny weather and new homeowner Derek's pool. Adam Z sacrificed birthday boy lounging and boiled big, fat crawfish. Crawfish, like many shellfish, are cooked alive so we had a giant cooler of pinchy little guys. Lize and Bryce and I became nine years old and poked them till they got in fighting stance-- claws up and out. What is it about things being small and aggressive is always funny? Lize's dog Duke got in a small tussle with one and I am sad to report the crawfish (kind of) won by a massive pinch to the snout. Duke flung it in the air and homeowner Derek got rid of it so we wouldn't have another incident. Polly would not have bounced back as fast as Duke had she been the curious dog of the day. Poor thing did come home with blisters on her paws from running all day. She hardly even made it to her bed before conking out when we got home. 
(I am a terrible photographer and rely on Bryce to document such things as this--- and the pictures aren't on Facebook yet for me to steal and claim as my own artistry)




All of this excitement also put me to bed early and all to aware that Joe was not there. I guess it is like never feeling as lonely as you do in a crowd when you're all alone (yeah, Wade Bowen lyric*), it is never more obvious that Joe is gone than when I am somewhere he should be. His good buddy Brian "Viernes", too, was notably missed and something feels off with the group's absences. When people ask, "How is married life?" I say, "Kind of like being single." But a really pathetic kind of single-- not the fun girl who says things like, "I don't have time for a relationship" or "I am just not into boyfriend/girlfriend labels." Not that I want to be this girl, I just want to be with my husband more. 


My creative writing class has reminded me why I have wanted to teach it and why I love to write. I submitted my story this week for my workshop in two weeks. I went with a piece I wanted to revisit from my thesis. It is easily one of my most controversial pieces and I fully expect for at least 6 people to hate it after the first paragraph... but hate isn't a bad thing, it is an emotional reaction and I want my readers to feel something. It makes me think more and more about writing a collection one day, or even a memoir about all the baseball stuff from my perspective. My friends from college liked this idea when I mentioned it in the summer, so long as I include them in the story and then write one about college. The latter might have to come much later and let the statute of limitations come into play for some incriminating tales.... mostly just so things that need time to be funny can do so. 
(If I put pictures with this paragraph I would either be a major creep in creative writing class or a very hated member of my college friend group)


But a baseball story, told from the stands with a hot dog in fluted paper balancing on my knee, might happen. I guess that will be something I worry (or not worry, thanks Ben)about later. For now, I will just not-worry about how what to bring on my trip to either Providence or Pittsburgh. Charlie Manuel**, give me a call if you can and let me know what you think I should pack. 


*Wade Bowen, Texas Country singer/songwriter. One of my favorites. 
**Charlie Manuel, Phillies manager.


Since I didn't have any cool pictures dealing with content, here is one just because.  This is what I wake up to if Polly stays in the bed with me: 

She has absolutely no sense of personal space.