BASEBALL . . . AND OTHER THINGS

Once again today I went to a baseball game with my o-l-d buddy, Steve. Once again the Arizona Diamondbacks scored a walk-off victory.  This time in the bottom of the 14th inning.  That's three walk-offs in a row and a sweep of the Baltimore Orioles, who did not appear pleased.  Steve, on the other hand, did appear pleased.

It's always nice when your buddy has a big smile on his face, even though this picture was taken before the victory.  I suspect even then, Steve knew about the joy to come.

I, on the other hand, grew weary after about 11 or 12 innings and said my goodbyes as Steve lingered on.

But as I got down to the main floor of the arena, I wondered if maybe I could inveigle my way into one of those MUCH-CLOSER-TO-THE-ACTION seats.  So I made my way to the lower floors.  I asked an usher if I could take one of the many empty seats.  He directed me to a row or two just below him.  I went down and took a seat.  

But then I began to notice all the empty seats far below where I sat.  I thought "why can't I take one of those."  I turned to look for "my" usher but he was distracted so I just stood and walked down many stairs until I was just 20 or so rows above the Diamondbacks dugout and there I took my seat.  Unchallenged.  Just another baseball fan.  The view was exemplary.

I turned and craned my neck several times to try and pick Steve out, way-way-way up in the "nosebleed" seats but I couldn't spot him.

So I turned my attention back to the game.

Well, there was that "Diamondback Girl" right in front of me.  Fancy that.  I sat through a couple of more innings but finally gave up, left the ballpark and headed for home.  On the way, I heard the victorious hit and run in the bottom of the 14th inning.  Great game.  Great team. 

Next time?  C'mon down, Steve.  I'll show you how.

BLAZING COLOR

In our living room, a ceiling fan whirls constantly in this overheated summer to provide some additional cooling to prevent the air conditioning from running constantly.  It is where SWMBO and I gather to watch television or movies.  It doesn't bother me but SWMBO says the downdrafted air dries her eyes out and irritates them.  So about a week ago she came home from a shopping trip with this.

Let me assure you this is not a traditional color of any garment, visor or cap for her to wear.  I noted that it was "hideous", or words to that effect.  She answered that she knew that but she only got that color to keep me from swiping it.

Well!

But to continue.  A few days later came a post from my California tennis-playing friend, Tom, about a new shirt he had acquired.  Stand back from your screen, folks.  Here it is.

Tom noted that the color was unlike his normal colors of white or blue and he talked in this post and in this one about a certain amount of derision the shirt prompted from his playing partners.

But Tom, never one to take criticism lying down, handled himself well, I thought.

Incidentally, that visor SWMBO brought home looks even more glowing when a picture was taken with the flash on.

So never fear, Tom.  If my wife is right, at least no one will steal your shirt.

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Last night and the night before were the supposed height of the meteor showers.  SWMBO went out around 2 o'clock Sunday night and saw two.  Last night we both went out around the same time and saw two more.  I may have seen a third just as we were getting up to head back into the house to bed but it was so fast I couldn't be sure.

Suffice it to say that there is so much ground light emanating from the Phoenix metropolitan area that a meteor search is somewhat groundless (to coin a phrase).  I read on Facebook that a former colleague of mine who lives in Prescott, the area we moved to Phoenix from in March, went out with his family last night and saw perhaps a hundred.  Much less population there, therefore much less ground light.  I wish I'd have been there.

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I was out running around at mid-day yesterday and saw a sign for Tom's Barbecue.  Never one to miss some good Q I went in and had a brisket plate special with red beans and rice.  Excellent.  Tom's has five locations as well as operating a big pink food truck.  Don't know why I didn't get a picture of that.

Later I stopped in at the local NPR radio station, KJZZ, to visit an old friend, Al Macias, who is the managing editor there.  It was good to see him after all these years.  After a lengthy conversation about "the good old days" when we worked together at KPNX-TV in Phoenix, he gave me a tour of the station.  Quite plush and, as he noted, very quiet.  Not like our old noisy newsroom.  And everyone was so YOUNG!

DARKLY CURIOUS

Just to take some of the mystery out of it, I adjusted the photo and got this.

The Master of Darkness

  

My best pal

  Blackwell

BABY COLORS

As seen in a couple of random sky shots from the other night.

I'M NOT ITALIAN BUT . . .

If you want to get my attention, just fill a saute pan with some Italian sausage, peppers and onions.

Once the heat has gotten to them, shake on a little freshly ground pepper.

Gently saute them until the onions are translucent and the peppers are glistening.

Dish it up on a plate with a little pasta and some red sauce and a nice glass of red wine alongside.

And I'm in heaven.

How about you?

TO THE SKY, CAPTAIN

When I was a kid, many many many many years ago, I loved to climb trees.  I had one favorite one which was easy to climb and had several spots where a young boy could lean back and rest among the leaves, spying on others walking by down on the ground without being detected.  I called it "The Big Tree" and it was my private, special playground.  I was reminded of it recently when I was watching a television program about the popularity of tree houses.  They have become luxury items for some people. One of them had twin beds, electricity, a bathroom, a completely functioning kitchen and a fireplace.  Imagine that!  A fireplace in a tree house!  Amazing.

One of my other favorite trees sat only about 20 feet from the front door of my home and I used a rope swing in it to sit and read.  

Later on I got interested in short wave and ham radio.  That meant stringing wire aerials so I spent a lot of time on roofs.  That became a sort of hobby for me, much to the dismay of my wife.  But she knew about it before she married me.  She took this picture of me in our "courting days."

There's something special about being up high and looking down that appeals to me.  Still I remember once I was hired to help a man paint our church.  But when I  got up to the scaffold, only about ten feet from the ground I was scared to death and couldn't do it.

Another memory comes of a time when SWMBO and I had been out with a couple of friends and we probably had too much to drink.  There was a lightning storm flaring in the sky to the south of us so I immediately climbed up on the roof to get a better view.  The other three refused to join me and kept telling me to come down.  But I didn't until I felt the need for a cigarette (this was in my smoking days) and no one would toss one up to me.

I've never fallen from a tree or a roof, never hurt myself but I'm afraid my climbing days are over.  There is a tree in our back yard that I have eyed a couple of times but it doesn't look like a good "climber".

If I could even get up to those cross branches I'm afraid they're too fragile and would break off, tossing me to the ground.  At my age that would not be pleasant.

Recently we hired a yard man and he asked me if I wanted the palm tree in the yard trimmed.  It had been awhile and there were a lot of dead fronds high up in the air.  At first I declined but he seemed to want to do it.  I asked him if he had a way to get up there and he said he did so I told him to go ahead.  Later I saw that he had strapped some kind of barbs around his ankles, tossed a loop of rope around the tree and up he had gone.  I wish I'd taken a photo but I didn't think of it at the time.  I just watched him, with a bit of nervousness, as he worked high up in the palm tree.

I also kind of envied him.

WHAT A DIFFERENCE A DAY MAKES

This is something I love about living in Phoenix.  I woke this morning to skies that looked like this.

Yesterday at this time (10:30 a.m.) it was already 99 degrees outside. Today it's 79 and there are a few light sprinkles falling.  It feels wonderful after days and days of dryness and temperatures above 100.

The backyard flowers even seem to be smiling at the change in the weather.  Not that it will last.  A day or two from now the forecast calls for a high of 106 again.

I'm sure the guys loading this truck are happy about the change in temperature.  One of my neighbors, Jake Harrington, is loading up for a move to Arkansas.  Jake has been the outstanding golf coach at South Mountain Community College for several years.  His team just repeated as the national champions and one of his players, Jake Argento, was the junior college player of the year.

(Yes, they're both named Jake.)

Coach Harrington just landed an NCAA job coaching golf at the University of Arkansas in Little Rock.  It's a big step for him but with his record I'm sure he'll do well.  I was talking to him last evening and he said he's lived in Phoenix since he was 3 and his wife since she was 12.  So they're leaving a lot behind.

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I'm still living in the glow of the concert we attended Sunday night by Madeleine Peyroux.  But we've got another great night to look forward to - a concert by Lyle Lovett and His Large Band in a little over a week.  He's long been a favorite of ours and I'm overjoyed that we'll finally get to see him in person.  Stand by for my review.