Thursdays are glorious.
See, I feel the way about Thursdays that you feel about Saturdays. Today, I took a writing test at Trinity Christian – part of my admission into the teacher certification program, visited with my dad for a couple of hours, took the puppy for a little drive, and wandered around Target while munching on one of my favorite treats… the Target popcorn/soda combo for $1.50. Okay, I’m sorry, I have to say that I’m STUNNED by my use of the word “munching,” because I hate that word. I think it’s disgusting. I didn’t munch on popcorn. I friggen ate it. A lot of it. “Munching” had nothing to do with it.
When I got home, it was still late afternoon. It was a glorious day today – what was it, 69 degrees? – not a cloud in the sky. I sat on the balcony and started a book I’ve been waiting to read: Carrie Muskat’s Banks to Sandberg to Grace. It’s a book of interviews with former Cubs players, managers, sportscasters, etc. It covers five decades – so far, beautifully.
It’s amazing to me. Some of the players whine about the state of the current team (“current” being around 2002, when the book came out), and others simply relive their glory days with fond nostalgia. But a couple of the interviews really hit me hard, though I can’t explain why. One of these interviews was Ernie Banks’. As one of the first African Americans to play on the Chicago Cubs, he surely has a lot to say – but he just… doesn’t. I mean, he says a lot of things, but not about that. As far as he was concerned, it seems, he’s wasn’t an African American Chicago Cub – he was just a Cub. And a mighty classy one, at that. During his interview, he stated:
“Everywhere I go, there’s somebody that has touched my life and I have touched their lives. They were 10 years old sitting out there in those bleachers. Now they’re in their 50′s . . . What I always thought of when I walked out of this ballpark when I was playing was that one day I might have to ask this little boy or girl for a job. I always thought of that. I don’t know why. My children would say, ‘Dad, we got to go.’ And I’d be signing autographs, looking at faces. I thought, gosh, I might ask you for a job someday or you might have to save my life. I always thought of that. I can’t explain it.”
How humble is that? As a reminder to you baseball fans, and as new news to those of you who don’t give a shit about the sport, Ernie was one of THE greats. He was Mr. Cub. And what was he thinking while he signed autographs? That someday, he might have to ask one of his fans for a job. These people idolized him; and, in his own way, Ernie idolized them.
This point hit home when I read the intro to this book. The author interviewed each of these people specifically for her book. All of them happily complied, excited to be a part of it. All of them except one. Sammy Sosa declined the special interview, stating, “I have my own book.”
Times have changed, huh?
I’m not sure why I chose to share that little passage. It’s not funny, really, and I guess it’s not life-altering. But it is baseball season (the cubs are 5-4… breathe, people. It’s a better start to the season than we often see). Baseball season means spring, which means pretty weather, flowers blooming (my balcony blooms aren’t dead yet! Hurrah for progress!), summer coming, and, of course, quality time at Wrigley Field. It just makes me happy.
On a completely different note (cue the screeching of breaks as we make an awkward transition), we were told we’d find out about our house offer in three weeks or less. That was yesterday. So… within 20 days, we’ll know. I’m not optimistic about it, though I think I’m just telling myself that I’m not so that if our offer is rejected, I can be all, “I I KNEW it!!!” Secretly, I have high hopes. But don’t tell anyone. I’m certainly not.
It’s back to work for me tomorrow. In-laws visiting this weekend, which will be super fun. I have a great time with my mother and stepfather-in-law, and this weekend, they’re coming to celebrate our birthdays. I do so love presents. Is that wrong? If it is, then baby, I don’t want to be right. But, seriously, we always have a blast when they visit. My mother-in-law has ADD – truly, she’s not one of those people who says “OMG, I’m SOOOO ADD,” which annoys the hell out of me and it’s so stupid because ”ADD” isn’t an adjective, really, is it? Anyway, her ADD makes it so that we’re able to have about a million different conversations in a very short period of time, which is always fun. Sometimes confusing, but always fun. I love when they visit on the weekends, because we sit around on lazy mornings and drink coffee and talk about nothing. ”Coffee and nothing” is one of my favorite pasttimes. We should all do it more often. Unless you hate coffee, in which case you could drink tea, or, if you don’t like tea, either, you could drink rum. It’s just a suggestion.
Have a wonderful Friday, y’all. Y’all? Since when do I employ that little dandy? Since today, apparently. Enjoy the weather tomorrow - I think it’s going to be one of those perfect days. Unless you don’t live in my general vicinity. If you’re reading this from, say, Hong Kong, your weather might be different. Consider yourself warned.
I’ll close this blog with a quote from an email I wrote to my good friend in Colorado. It’s an amusing story, and I don’t have the desire …uhh, energy… to type it again. Soooo, I’ll quote myself. Because, let’s face it. I used the Ernie Banks quote, but you don’t come here for Ernie. You’re here for PoorReception.
We have mice at work. Each day, I come in and check the candy basket that holds Easter-y candy treats, and each morning for the past two days, I’ve found a Reeses peanut butter egg with a hole gnawed in the plastic wrapper and the peanut butter eaten out of the middle. Today, I didn’t find one in the morning, and I was all, “phew, the mice are on holiday.” But I found one in the afternoon, which means that RIGHT IN FRONT of me, a mouse crawled into the candy basket and chewed up candy. 2 feet from where I sat. I informed my bosses that I’ve never seen a wild mouse. They asked what I meant, and I said, “you know, not in a cage,” and they laughed and said that mice weren’t wild. MY ASS. They are wild things and they scare me, and I shared a desk with one today. I’m gonna get that bastard. He’s gonna find some Reeses arsenic eggs in that basket soon. …Okay, truly, they’re probably adorable, but something about them creeps me out. I could never slap one with a frying pan cartoon-style, but I don’t know, man. I’m soon going to wind up standing on a chair and stomping and screaming.
MICE! Freaking mice. Am I lame? Have all of you encountered mice before? How have I avoided it for so long? Have all of you battled wild mice before? It’s gonna be man vs. mouse, tomorrow. And man will win. Man. Not woman. Because woman (me) will be running away from mouse, shrieking like a pissed cat.
Hugs and kisses, world.
Goodnight!
I loved loved loved the Ernie Banks quote. It definitely made my day brighter! I love Mr. Cub!
As far as the mice, I have a quick story for ya. Two summers ago my grandma was visiting and we had mice in our house. They were cute little baby mice that came in from the woods by our house. Anyway, I caught one in a jar before my cat could tear it to shreds and my grandma made me flush it down the toilet. I cried. But, my grandma would have headed for the hills if I hadn’t!
Hahahahaha – am I the mouse-chasing man in question, whilst woman shrieks and pees?
I sure as hell hope they interviewed Ronnie WooWoo in that book. I know he’s not on the team…nor is he a player….but still, he is DAMN important.
Okay, a few observations with this blog:
Your suggestion to substitute rum for the coffee in “coffee and nothing” made me laugh…and then I said to myself, “hehe, coffee and rum.” Which is WRONG. It would be “rum and nothing.” Then I laughed because I said to myself, “Haha, rum and arsenic Reese’s eggs.”
I am easily amused.