My husband and I decided to partake of America's past-time this evening and mix with the spectators at the local double-A baseball emporium.
We saw some good friends and their 2 grandchildren as we entered the stadium, so that was extra funn. That's how Nutsy the flying squirrel spells fun.
The game was going along nicely (and people say soccer is boring. Have they seen a baseball game?) and we were enjoying the between-inning antics provided by the management. Plus there was a nice breeze and we had dinner as soon as we got there, so I wasn't cranky. I get cranky when I'm hot and hungry.
One of the antics was the hot dog toss. A person dressed as a flamingo walks along the sideline and tosses wrapped hot dogs into the stands. The flinging flamingo got near us and flung his dog high into the stands. The flamingo had quite an arm. I was looking straight up to follow the trajectory of the tightly wrapped dog. Suddenly something hit my shoulder and I noticed a hot dog lying at my feet. The lady one seat over seemed interested but old granny janny was on it. I picked up the hot dog and held it up so everyone around would know of my rad skillz at hot dog grabbing. A young person approached on my left with his hand out, as though I would give up my hot dog. I spurned his advance.
I began to unwrap the dog. The foil was held on by rubber bands, and you'll be glad to know the foil was only slightly torn, and the dog was not soiled or besmirched.
Paul, seeing that I planned to eat the high-flying dog, began to make critical comments. He does not approve of hot dogs. And I had already had one, so he was puzzled by my desire to eat another. Because I earned it, dammit.
So when someone offers you free tickets to a baseball game, you should go because stuff might fall out of the sky and land at your feet. And it might be edible stuff. You just never know.
