Just a Quick Sunday Night Note

On Thursday night, we played some baseball.

In the rain.

And by rain, I actually mean downpour.

It figures, because I was having a PERFECTLY STELLAR hair day.  And somewhere in the middle of the 4th inning, when the rain struck, my stellar hair day was plum finished, which just goes to show you how deep a mother’s love really is.  I did not love my hair at all when we left the ballfield, even though I’d been basking in a day of Great Hair Glory when I had first arrived on the metal bleachers.  I’d  like to give credit to the powdered hair texturizer.

The boy smacked balls all over the place on Thursday (A single!  A double!  A walk!), and then he sprained his ankle on home plate, when he came barreling in and discovered that yes!  Home plate was SLICK, DUDE!

It took a super-sized helping of Tide to clean his uniform, when it was all said and done, because of MUD, MUD, MUD.

And I washed forty pounds of sunflower seeds, which had apparently been stashed in the back pocket of the baseball pants.  The seeds were no longer salty and delicious when I picked them all out of my washing machine, people.  I don’t know if any of y’all have had forty pounds of waterlogged, David’s Sunflower Seeds in your Whirlpool, but it’s one of those things which makes you HEAVE AN ENORMOUS SIGH OF EXASPERATION when you first notice the situation.

And with another win chalked up behind the Bats’ name on the scoreboard, we kicked it into high gear for our action-packed weekend.

I’d tell you all about our weekend, too, except my house is currently full of VERY LOUD ten-year-old boys, and we’re about to have MOVIE NIGHT.  And really?  I think I’m totally in on the movie night!  I’m crashing the family room with an enormous tub of popcorn swimming in a bucket of butter, we’re shutting the documentary off on the Big Foot Hunt, and we’re watching a little cinematic wonderment that does not involve a lord with a ring, a dragon, a beeping droid, or a swaggering pirate.

And you can bet your last buck AND the entire farm that we won’t be watching any low-budget film on a shady apparition two hundred and eight yards away that may or may not be a Big Foot in his natural habitat.

I’ll be back tomorrow night, people.  Have a great Sunday evening.

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