Tantrum Warehouse
Tact Free Since 2003

Take Me Out to the Ball Game

I love Sundays.

Now that Mr. Anyabeth is in school he is gone on Sundays (this switches to Saturdays next week and this will undoubtedly make me crabby) and Sunday is my day of freedom.

I never do anything productive. Mr. Anyabeth enables this by telling me it doesn't matter that the house is in shambles, there is so much laundry to be done, etc. Have fun! Sleep in! Anyabeth LOVE Mr. Anyabeth.

I had planned on lazing around today. Do laundry. REALLY. Watch bad TV. My mom came and we shopped for furniture, picked out houses in a snobby neighborhood (in case we win the lottery) and then ate big burritos. Practically a perfect day.

To top it all off, my Mariners are currently kicking the Holy Crap out the White Sox.

I love baseball. In fact, J and I joke that our whole marriage is based on baseball. We are a mixed marriage--he likes the Yankees and I like the Mariners. I will even dabble in the Red Sox in order to piss him off. It got ugly enough two years ago that we have chosen alternate (National League) teams to argue about. Its less personal. Though to be honest, those teams (the Dodgers and Giants) have been in pennant races the past couple of years that have made that rivalry a little tense than it should be.

Last month we got into a screaming match about what cap Roger Clemens should wear in the Hall of Fame. We are not well people.

But Sunday night baseball is a tradition in our house. We watch it nearly every week. Sometimes we make hot dogs, sometimes we just drink beers (ok he drinks beer I will make something else). But we sit down and talk about baseball for hours. I cannot really imagine either one of us with some one that didn't at least like baseball.

Football is another story. And I feel bad about this because maybe I am not trying hard enough. I don't like football. At all. Hockey, I like better in person but enjoy well enough. Basketball is ok, I like college better than NBA but I can watch a game if forced. Football just makes me want to go to sleep. Last year he attemped to mold me into a 49'ers fan (so that we don't need to fight). Other than some of the cute boys, I don't understand the allure (and somehow I don't think J is as enamored with Terrell Owen's ass as I am). Maybe I will give it a shot again this year. We ought to have something to talk about after October--other than when Spring Training starts.

I need to go re-claim my spot on the couch from the dogs--its almost time for the game!

3:46 p.m. :: comment ::
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