Have I mentioned it’s baseball season and flag football season? Probably not. Because instead of blogging I’ve been taxiing people around multiple times a week at 4PM. Coordinating high protein snacks and luring them into multiple practices a day via kettle chip. Apparently Kristen’s husband, Jay, calls himself Jyft. Naturally, I’ve called dibs on Juber.
I am a master of backseat wardrobe changes. Seriously, I could work the back room at New York Fashion Week. Shoving my kids’ (still) square feet into long skinny shoes. Mastering the art of layers, cleats, mouth guards, gloves, mitts, belts, hats, helmets, jerseys, water bottles, pocket-free pants, hoodies, backpacks and sunscream. And that’s just my wardrobe change. I’m kidding… I prefer a post-work change into wool socks, ski boots, double-layer ski jacket, knit cap and my Woolrich glittens. I call the fields Damon Garciantarctica. I don’t actually call them that, but I should.
A couple of weeks ago, the Dodgers had a game at Sinsheimer. We get all the way there and realize Nate was goofing around with his mitt and left it at home. Fortunately, he’s the flexible one and he gratefully proceeds with my fifth grade Gals Softball glove.
I don’t remember a lot from that game except that Nate caught two fly balls and a line drive. He was floating on cloud 9. Man, who did all this baseball genius come from??
Juber’s golden glove, that’s who.