I ain’t nobody’s bitch

I’m what you’d call your average Cardinals fan. I like to go to games occasionally, preferring to watch them from the comfort of my couch and the affordability of my fridge. I know who the players are and what position they play, although the calculation of ERA still flummoxes me despite M’s best attempts at Wifely Baseball Education. I have my favorite players, and sometimes they get traded and I have to pick new ones. I will probably forever mourn the loss of Rolen and Edmonds. I have fun figuring out what their at-bat songs are because I think they tell a lot about a player, and Fredbird never fails to crack me up even after all these years.

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Scooter and rainbow flare

One of the cardinal rules of photography is to not shoot into the sun. One of the other cardinal rules of photography is to ignore rules when it works. Today, I heart flare.

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Which way is up?

Death is never easy. Even when someone is sick and you know the end is near, it’s not any easier than when someone is ripped tragically from your life. When it’s a combination of the two (damn…I knew he was gonna go, but I didn’t think he was gonna go that fast), another element of oddity and grief is added.

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Ramblings

Dear Child o’ Mine: Please, please, can I have one night of uninterrupted sleep? One night where I fall asleep and my eyes don’t open until the morning? One night where you get up and use the potty by yourself, or retrieve Hoot from the floor by yourself, or get a drink in the bathroom by yourself, or get a tissue from the box on your nightstand by yourself, or pull up your covers by yourself. Are you seeing the trend here? By yourself. Sans Mommy. I love you, daughter, with all my heart. But if I don’t get some friggin’ sleep Mommy is gonna get real crabby real soon.
Dear Darling Husband: I would like to know, have you been programmed since birth to be able to ignore the cry of the female human? Or is this a trait you’ve developed in adulthood, approximately five years ago? Do your ears simply not hear that particular frequency? You have two options for tonight: a.) you can sleep in her room so as to be sure to hear her call, or b.) we can duct-tape the baby monitor to your head, with the speaker positioned at your ear. Your choice.
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I learned yesterday that right after work is not the time to go to the gym. Because that’s when everyone goes to the gym. All treadmills were taken, and the only elliptical left was the wonky one where the “0” doesn’t work on the touchpad (thereby making it impossible to type in 30 minutes as your desired time, which means you type in 31 or 32 or 33 and get a LED reprimand from the machine that 30 minutes is the limit, you elliptical hog. Once I got past that and finally started exercising I realized that this was the machine where the flat panel TV turns itself off
every six to eight minutes. Right in the middle of heated debates on CNN where Republicans think we should amend/abolish the 14th Amendment so that children born in the U.S. are not automatically granted citizenship and we should be a country of exclusion even though the Founding Fathers thought otherwise, and Democrats say, in rebuttal, “Shut up you big stupidhead.” Gawd knows I don’t want to miss that.
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The unknown horror

Alas, dear readers, I fear I must take time today to inform you of a cause du jour, a need for action, an unspeakable tragedy unfolding before our very eyes.

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