Slow Pitch Summer

August 3, 2009 at 9:36 am (Uncategorized)

Oh, hey, I have a LOT of drafts that I forgot to publish…so here is one from a year ago…

Peter is playing a lot of softball this summer.  Monday nights with the church league “A” team (oh how I wish there were a Mr. T on their team…) Tuesday night subbing with Jon’s team, and Friday nights with Bruce and friends.  This is a lot of softball, and means that we only really see each other on Wednesday nights (I have bowling on Thursday). 

The first part of summer was really busy with games.  The last two weeks have been very slow.  The Monday night league is at Dawson Field in Janesville, which has been under water (what isn’t) for two weeks.  They say they will start back the 14th of July.  We’ll see.  He hasn’t been called for Tuesdays for a while either.  Friday has been good – they have won all but 4 games, which is ok because if you win the “B” league, you have to move to the A league, and no one wants that! 

Last night he played in Stoughton for the Academy Electric Team with Bruce, etc.  They played a team that had beaten them before – they hit a LOT of home runs.  Peter plays short stop and went after a pretty good hit, which then took a wierd bounce and hit him in the chest hard enough for us to hear it.  He said afterward he thought he broke his clavicle.  The only actual lasting injury is a great impression of the stitches from the ball on his chest.  Almost looks like a red tattoo of softball stiches, with a red halo the size of the softball around it. 

On Fridays we go out to Deak’s in Stoughton after the games and hang out.  It is a nicer bar, with good food.  They also give you free soda after 10 (or 9 if you get the right bartender).  It isn’t too smoky and usually has plenty of tables and stools for the team to sit and hang out.


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Breakfast with Jack White

July 27, 2009 at 5:58 am (Uncategorized) ()

Today we had breakfast with Jack White.  Well, not really, but within 10 feet of him, and his new band The Dead Weather.  Except that not being a huge Jack White fan (edited: after listening to The White Stripes and Dead Weather all week, I am now a fan), I wasn’t positive it was him.  And really, this was Perkins in Janesville, Wisconsin…not the biggest place for celebrity sightings.  Especially those involving people from a band that isn’t country.  I had to laugh, though, thinking about how this was a “big” deal to us, when Bethany is in Nashville chilling with all the stars…

The friends we were with had no idea who Jack White is, and neither did any of the servers (who I asked once they left to see if I was just crazy).  Again, not country or top 40 music, not interested apparently.  Susan asked me later if I am sad I didn’t get a chance to ask for an autograph.  Not really my style, not chill enough.  Not that I don’t wish I had caught his eye and gave a nod or something – you know,  nothing too overt or fan-freakish.  Just a “hey, you’re cool, I’m cool, let’s be cool together” nod. 

I better go practice that very specific nod in the mirror right now, in case next week at breakfast I see another rock star and want to be cool…

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Mulberry Stories

June 29, 2008 at 11:15 am (Uncategorized)

Wow, mulberries are probably not interesting enough to have “stories” about them, but such is the life out in the middle of nowhere. 

We have saved one large mulberry tree and a couple small ones in the woody planting.  This is the first year that we have had a noticeable crop of berries on them (at least enough to warrant picking them).  Last Friday was my first Friday off from working four ten hour days, and the first round of berries were ripe.  Buck and I went down after Peter went to work and started picking. 

Buck likes mulberries, and will eat them out of your hand if they are ripe.  He is very selective about the ripeness of the berries, and will eat around the non-ripe ones.  As I was picking he was snorfling around in the grass around the tree for berries that had been dropped.  At least I thought that was what he was doing.

Pretty soon I heard a loud squeak that sounded just like a lot of his toys, so my first thought was that he had discovered a lost toy.  Until he bounded away so quickly and I saw a little foot sticking out of his mouth.  Then I remembered that Peter had mentioned they had kicked up a rabbit down there the other morning.  This must have been one of the babies.  So as Buck ran away I texted Peter to ask him why he was always gone when the wierd animal things happen out here.  Then I ran up to the garage to get a Beggin Strip to trade Buck for the baby bunny.  That worked really well, and he was put on the cable while I contemplated what to do.

If I was my father, I would have just stomped the poor thing and been done with it (there is a reason his friends call him Big Foot after all).  But I just couldn’t bring myself to that.  For a split second I thought about trying to save it, it was still breathing after all, and could kind of hop (as it tried to escape me).  But I knew that Buck and chomped it good, and probably rolled it over a few times with his massive paws, and that it wouldn’t make it very long.  I couldn’t stand thinking about the suffering.

So I sucked it up and pretended to be tough while I went and found the pellet gun…and I will end the detailed part of the story there.  Living in the country is great the majority of the time, but dang if there isn’t some crappy parts too.

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May 7, 2008 at 1:01 am (Uncategorized) ()

Last night I worked myself up to taking the bike out last night…and I couldn’t get it started.  I was disappointed, but got over it, and left it out so Peter could look at it when he got home.  Which of course meant that it started on the first try when he arrived.  By that point I was already un-worked up and very dirty from yard work, so I decided not to go last night. 

Instead I worked on one of my quirky projects.  It may not seem quirky to many people, but to some it is.  I am planning on building a dry stacked stone wall at the end of our property.  I have been picking rocks out of the neighbor’s field for two years to do this.  Is it crazy to want to hand pick rocks to make a 90 foot wall, 2 feet wide and 3 feet high?  Maybe, especially because it will probably take me 20 years to complete.  But there is a certain satisfaction in doing all the work myself. 

Last night I focused on getting the bigger rocks from the lilac pile down to the ditch, in case they plant that field today and I lose my chances.  Usually I take a bucket and pick the medium-sized rocks and dump them into a pile.  Last night I was taking the rocks that I can only carry one at a time.  I mostly felt like I was a contestant in the The World’s Strongest Man competition carrying those rocks down the hill.  Then I would laugh at myself and almost drop the giant rock on my toes, so I had stop that.  I have enough rocks now to do about a 3-foot section of the wall, not so impressive.  Hopefully they don’t plant that field for another week or so, and I can get a better start.  And hopefully my wrists hold out.  My fingers are numb today. 

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