Baseball Season

Me: Little known fact: The guy who wrote "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" penned it 34 years before he ever went to one.

Hubster: That must be why he was looking for someone to take him out to the ball game.

Me: Makes sense.

And who's going to rock him to sleep tonight? (Not it!)

Remember how I mentioned the creepy I-see-dead-people side of my oldest son? After I got to work today, I got this message from the Hub:

Hubster: This morning before we left the house, Monkeyboy wanted to take me back in his room "where it's dark" so he could "teach (me) to see the ghost."

Ski Weekend

Me: Rumor has it you're coming to Ski Weekend this year.

Beamer: I can neither confirm nor deny said rumor.

Me: I assume it's contingent on the Princess [OldChristine] recovering from the Plague or whatever it is that she has.
Me: Sounds like a cheesy novel, The Princess and the Plague.

Beamer: Actually, the King has the Plague, but feels a night of heavy drinking may kill the remainder of it. And maybe the Princess will not be well enough to come. Which means I get to stay the night for once.

Me: Then you would get to experience the true Ski Weekend. Especially the midnight sledding. Bring your boots and parka. I bring sleds for all.

Beamer: I would think that "true Ski Weekend" sledding would include sledding in underwear. And would require some snow.

Me: You can inaugurate a new underwear tradition. I'm still holding out hope of snow.

Beamer: It's s'posed to get cold the next few days.

Me: Yay! One year, I got out of the hot tub and did a snow angel in a three foot snow bank in my bikini. There is photographic proof.

Beamer: Which would prevent you from running for President in the future.

Me: You don't know that. We still don't know what it's going to take to put a woman in the White House. That could be it.

Beamer: Good point.


Last year, I was the Token Pregnant Chick at Ski Weekend. (There's always one. I am not kidding.) I couldn't participate in any most of the fun activities. This year, more than the junk-eating, heavy-drinking, midnight-sledding, movie-watching, pool-table-dancing, Euchre-playing*, since Ski Weekend is (lucky for me!) a mandated child-free event, I'm looking forward to the sleeping-inning.


*To be completely honest, there's really not all that much skiing anymore during Ski Weekend.

Notes from my BlackBerry

Blackberry Messenger rules. At all times I have several "current conversations" active in my BB Messenger. They're hardly ever anything important, just a nearly stream-of-consciousness babble between me and a couple of friends, kind of like our own private Twitter. Often we just aimlessly banter back and forth, hopping from one subject to another haphazardly, amusing ourselves. One of the funniest people I know is my friend Beamer*, who sends me rants, info about new bands he's discovered, links to interesting articles, or sometimes simply a photo of something odd or funny he's stumbled across. Like I said, our own private Twitter.

Beamer: Off topic, I just saw a "Gore/Lieberman" bumper sticker on a street sign downtown.

Me: Wow.

Beamer: It looked new, too.

Me: They've been saving it for "the comeback."

Beamer: As LL said, "Don't call it a comeback!"

Beamer: Cool J, Not Bean.

Me: I knew who you meant. After all, ladies love Cool James.

Beamer: Word, Sista.



*Who happens to also be OldChristine's husband and the Hubster's best friend, just to place him in context.