I'm Like The Magician With The Bunny!

As you may recall, I sometimes have issues with losing things. I can search and search where I’m pretty sure I lost an item, but it will quite simply not be there. It’s the evil fairies – or maybe the underpants gnomes branching out.

So last summer, I lost a pair of sunglasses. I know that I go through sunglasses every couple of years, so I refuse to buy expensive ones. These sunglasses fell into the same category, but I’d actually really liked them, and I’d only gotten them the year before. I was bummed, but I moved on.

I vaguely remember looking for them for another couple weeks before finally giving in and buying a new pair. I didn’t like the new pair as much, and they weren’t just cheap, they were cheaply made. The nose clips broke off by late winter this year, so they were less comfortable, but not quite bad enough for me to justify throwing them away.

At some point this spring, I lost the bad sunglasses, and I happily bought new ones the next time I was in Target. I liked these ones better. Of course, that meant I found the bad ones a couple days later. For the first time, I now had two pairs of sunglasses. Oddly, I pretty much have only been wearing the new pair.

Last night, I pulled my cleats and glove out of my backpack (hey, I may have the tools, but that doesn’t really mean anything. With the cleats came a pair of sunglasses. As one of my teammates was talking about an expensive pair of prescription sunglasses she’d left behind last week, I immediately asked her if they were hers. Unfortunately for her they weren’t.

Anyone want to guess who those sunglasses belonged to? Yep, I’m now the proud owner of three pairs of sunglasses. I may be starting a pool for how quickly I’ll be back down to one pair and laying odds that the pair that remains is the bad pair. I can’t really complain though!

It's Finally Summer

I know this because tonight was the first softball game of the season. Ahhhh, softball. To be able to pretend to be young again. Except for the prayers for no injuries before the game.

Yep, I’m in a church league. The various churches around my town play a non-competitive league where each church is a different team. We play every Tuesday for 8 weeks at the local park district, which means lights and real fields – a bonus, trust me. The home team provides the ump (and I’m proud to say that my husband is the team’s preferred ump), and we all do it in fun.

Except for one team – the Lutherans. I don’t think it’s a Lutheran thing; it’s just their coach. They’re the only team in the league where the coach isn’t a member of the team. He doesn’t even have a wife who plays on the team. But man, is he into it! For years, they were the best team in the league, or so I’ve been told. Last year was my first year in the league, and we beat their pants off. It wasn’t always pretty, as the coach gets a bit intense, but we beat them handily last year. And I’m really just being vain if I pretend that my playing last year had anything to do with beating them.

Even though I’m shopping for churches, I’m still playing with the Catholic church this year. In fact, I may have to beg to play with them again next year, as the Episcopalians are the one church I know if in town without a team. I don’t know that I’m quite up to starting a team from scratch, nor do I know that there’d be enough interest. But shhhh the team doesn’t know that I’m shopping for a new church. Yet.

So the team I play on apparently requested to play the Lutherans in the first game of the year. Amazingly, we had 16 women show up – for anyone who doesn’t play softball, this never happens. Our two coaches from last year weren’t able to make it, as they were both coaching their daughters’ teams, but that’s ok when you have so many others make it.

Since we didn’t have strong coaches on hand, the Lutherans took the field for infield practice before the game, even though we were home team and technically, it was ours to practice. But we’re Christian and don’t make an issue of it.

The game is a good one, as it usually is between us. First inning was 1-0 them. Second inning, we broke out for 5 runs. Third inning, we gave back three. Fourth inning, we gave back another two. And there it stayed at 6-5 for the next two innings. Unfortunately, the only reason that they had the lead was that our third baseman and shortstop both had bad innings.

My first two at bats were nothing to right home about. I tried the “Judy” bat my first at bat, since everyone on the team raves about it. I found out the hard way that it’s too short for me. And sadly, I vaguely remember learning that the hard way last year, too. The next at bat, the stud left fielder caught my beautifully hit ball. And the right fielder caught an even better hit ball the next time up – right fielders aren’t supposed to be able to catch in non-competitive softball leagues! My next at bat, I finally got it down and had a sweet single up the middle.

By the time we ended the sixth inning, it was just after 8:30. Our games are supposed to start at 7 on the dot (ours didn’t) and end at 8:30 so that the next team can play (no team waiting for the field). We also had an injury timeout, as one woman slid into third and jammed her ankle badly, and that took a good 10 to 15 minutes to get her stabilized and off the field. See, I told you we prayed for no injuries. Apparently we didn’t pray hard enough tonight!

Given the situation, we asked if they wanted to play the last inning. Their coach didn’t care one way or the other, and the team finally agreed to play. Rally caps went on for my team. They may only be visors, but you can turn those things upside down and backwards just as well as a regular ballcap!

One went down easy – short to first. The second batter reached on an error. The third batter fielders choiced the second batter at two. The fourth batter, also short to first. Phew!

And somehow, we started hitting. We got runners on. Eventually we reached two out, but we’d scored one run and tied the game. And yep, you guessed it, it was my turn to bat again. Gotta love that pressure. Of course, I didn’t realize that we’d already scored a run, as I’d been checking on our injured player when I realized I was on deck. It’s all good. I hit a single and managed to score another run, which ended the game. Yay!

And the first words out of the coach’s mouth? “Really, we won. This inning doesn’t count. Say what you want, but we won.” Ummm, dude, noncompetitive league and you agreed to play the last inning. Oh and we don’t count wins and losses.

When I got home and told my husband about the game, I asked if he could guess what team we played given their reaction at the end. Yeah… he sorta nailed it on the first try. Then again, the teams in our league don’t hold a candle to the unsportsmanlike activities I regularly witness at his games. Silver lining!

Ouch!

I’ve lived up to my name yet again.

Tonight, we had a mixer for the softball team I play on in the summer. It’s a Christian league, made up of teams from the churches around town. Ironically, the church I’m looking at joining isn’t a part of the league, so I may have to sneak my way onto my current team next year.

Anyway, a local restaurant kindly sponsors us and pays the majority of our league fees. We’re supposed to head there after games to partake, but let’s just say that doesn’t always happen the way it should. Something about suburban moms playing softball.

This year, we decided to have a preseason party there to at least get things off on the right foot with our very kind sponsor. All you can eat pizza and pop with the six teams (or as many of us as could show – only eight from my team that has almost 20 players), hanging out and catching up.

We all sat down at a series of tables set up to make a U shape. I happened to be near the base of the U. The chair to the left of me was open, and I was talking to the women to the right and across from me. A team was trying to fit their women in to the right of us, and they were short a seat. The asked if we could make room. Sure!

Since the chair to the left of me was open, I just did the scoot from one chair to the next, pop up, over and down. Wayyyyyy down. In fact, all the way down to the floor. Initially, I was stunned. I couldn’t figure out what happened to the pizza I had been holding (it flew out of my hand when I landed and was on the floor behind me).

I swear. There had been a chair behind me. Right? How did I not notice that there was no chair there? By this time, the entire room is staring at me (I’d do it too, were I them), so I turned to look for the chair.

The woman who had been two chairs to my left – new to the team this year and having never played softball before – was sitting there with a horrified look on her face and her hands over her mouth. She slowly pointed to the chair she had pulled back and out of my way. She had thought I was just scooting my chair down, not moving chairs. Uhhh, no.

Not surprisingly, the waitress came over to ensure I was alright. Except for a bruised ego, I was unscathed. Or so I thought. A couple hours later, I can feel a goose egg on my nether regions. And it’s sort of hurting to walk now.

So how do you know if you have a bruised tailbone or if you actually broke it anyway? How funny if I weren’t able to play at the beginning of the season because of an injury suffered eating pizza?