Last night, J, my parents and I went to a major league baseball game. My mother had not done the same since the early 80s. In my mind, getting her to go was an accomplishment. If she had a good time, it would be awesome.
As is typical of our lives, we left the house late, my parents were not ready to go when we went to pick them up, and then we got stuck in traffic. By the time I grabbed our tickets from 'Will Call ' and we grabbed our beer, dogs, and traditional garlic fries, it was the bottom of the 2nd inning.
For the rest of the inning, the sun blocked our eyes preventing us from seeing the game as we stuffed our faces. Shortly thereafter, however, our tummies were full and we were able to see again. We watched in awe as one of our guys hit a double sending 3 other players home. We stood up and cheered shortly thereafter when another of our players hit a two-run home run. We beamed with pride as our pitcher threw strike after strike and the rest of the team showed skill in the outfield.
J, my parents, and I had a great time. We all got into the game and were happy to be there. There is something wonderful about spending too much money on food, eating until you're past the point of full and then jumping up and down in excitement.
What is even better though is making time to spend with others and making memories...
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(P.S. It should be noted that the night could have only been cooler if K were there...)
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