I’m not the biggest baseball fan, America’s favorite past-time or not. I understand what’s going on because … well, how could you not? It’s probably the easiest sport to understand, but the thing that bothers me most about baseball is that while there is a set number of innings, there’s no time limit on the innings. I’d much rather know that there are fifteen minutes to an inning than sit around and wait for three outs per team. This probably has something to do with my control issues.
I’m weird, I know.
On the bright side, the baseball game I attended for Cinco de Mayo (I mean, what better way to celebrate, really?) was very quick, and the home team won, and Elizabeth and I had a wonderful time mocking people. My personal favorite was the baseball mom who was very obviously trying to recapture her youth. Classy! Also, I had my first experience with Dippin Dots — excuse me, Mini Melts. Whatever. — because I am apparently Amish and do not believe in these newfangled forms of ice cream.
On an even brighter note, my favorite band played after the baseball game, and it was exactly what I needed after a not good week. They were wonderful as usual, and there’s really nothing quite like seeing your favorite band, large group of bizarre high school students notwithstanding.
I think that’s it. I’m back at my parents’ house, and I am starting to freak out about going to Canada. That’s a different story for a different day, though.
