It's Finally Summer (a Boyfriend post)

From February through June, for the most part, my life revolves around baseball. By association so does Riley's. She likes the Red Sox and all, but comes nowhere close to my level of fandom. My excitement kicks in as spring training starts and by the time the regular season opens I can become downright obsessed. I watch every game available, whether or not it's the Twins. Back when I lived away from Minnesota I would purchase mlb.tv so I could watch every Twins game, but would also watch the local game at the same time, if it was on. Once Riley and I were even at a Mets game in Queens, while I was watching the Twins live on my iPhone at the same time. I repeatedly check all the sports sites for updates throughout the day, follow several Twins-centric blogs and have been known to watch Baseball: a film by Ken Burns when I can't get enough. Yeah, all ten dvds worth.

Field of Dreams makes me cry. Yes, that's the one with the talking corn field and Kevin Costner.

It must have been a long spring for Kelly. When you throw in the fact that this is the opening season of Target Field--the new home of the Twins--and the fact that I am living in Minnesota for the first time in almost ten years, you could say I became a little over obsessed this time around. We've watched a lot of baseball and gone to quite a few games. It's been great. But expensive. And it is starting to wear on us, a little.

That's why I'm surprised by a recent turn of events. For as much of a fan as I am I don't play baseball and rarely get a chance to play catch. In fact, I haven't had a glove for years. So, when I get the chance, I usually jump at it. Such was the circumstance the other day--after dinner at my uncle's he and I were tossing the ball around when Riley grabbed an extra glove and joined in. Now I've got to say that this was a little unexpected. I can't recall having Riley show interest in this before. Every once in a while we'll throw a Frisbee around, but I don't think I've ever seen her throw a ball. That's why I was a little surprised when, after she made a nice little grab, she threw a solid strike right into my mitt from at least 70 feet. My glove even made that nice popping sound.

What a pleasant surprise.

Three of played for quite a while, with my aunt joining in even. Just about every single ball Riley threw hit the target. She has an arm ladies and gentlemen! (Would now be an appropriate time to thank you Jack?) We had a lot of fun that evening and we even got to play catch again the very next day while visiting my Mom. On the way home we tossed around the idea of buying gloves and making it a regular thing. And, the next week, we did! We're each the proud new owners of mitts. We even did the whole oil them up, place a ball inside and wait thirty six hours thing to break them in. We haven't had the chance to play catch at home yet though--we've had plenty of rain and spring like cool whether lately in Minnesota. But as I sit here writing this post it is at least 85 degrees with about 85 percent humidity. The sun is still out too, so maybe we'll go play.

It's finally summer!

Home Alone

Remember when you were a teenager and your parents worked late or went out for the evening or--oh my god!--went away for the weekend and you had the whole entire house all to yourself? And it was totally the best thing ever!

Even if it was only for an hour, having the house to myself when I was a teenager was a hallowed experience, and that hasn't changed.

David went away for the weekend to spend time with his college buddies, and even though he was taking the car, and even though I barely know anyone in this town, and even though I had virtually nothing planned to occupy that time, I still immediately got that little thrill.

The magic of having the whole house to yourself for any extended period of time has nothing to do with relief in someone else's absence. ...Ok, maybe when I was a teenager it did. But David's impending absence inspired no such relief. I'd miss having him around, for sure.

It's that there's a certain luxury in being alone. It inspires indulgence. You can do all kinds of stuff alone that you can't do in front of your significant other. (Although, it turns out that I'm comfortable doing pretty much anything in front of David. Ok, sure, if I watch 7 straight hours of trashy reality tv shows he's going to tease me relentlessly about it and perhaps be a little disgusted. But the fact is, I've totally done that in front of him before, and probably totally will do so again. Singing 40's musicals at the top of my lungs while wandering around the house in my pajamas? Been there, done that. In an attempt to tame my crazy hair I wrap a turban of paper towels around my head for 20 minutes after every shower, and he smiles at me over breakfast like I'm not the least bit insane. This freedom to be found in solitude is an illusion because my boyfriend loves me--completely and without restriction--and so within our partnership I am already free. Sappy, right? Also true).

And I knew that being without a car would make me feel stranded, and I knew that being without David would make me feel lonely, and I knew that the best way to combat that would be to indulge in the admittedly awesome magic that is having the entire house to myself.

Oh, the things I had planned! It would be a weekend-long girly sleepover for one! All the embarrassing things! All!

Gossip Girl marathons! Ice cream for breakfast, face masks, cold press iced coffee with Bailey's, farmers market strawberries all day long, sitting on the floor in the middle of my living room with a towel and a bowl of very hot water and shaving my legs while watching tv (yeah, that last one is weird. To me, though, that is just the ultimate in uninhibited relaxation. Who knows why. I am bad at the girl thing. My best friend and my mother had to hold me down when I was 20 and forcibly pluck my eyebrows for me because I refused to do it myself on some weird principle I've long since forgotten about. Fact). Just an endless string of indulgence! PILLOW FIGHTS WITH THE CAT!

It didn't happen like that. Of course not. What happened is I ate a mangosteen, and watched just one episode of Gossip Girl, and didn't shave my legs at all. I did all the laundry and after my initial text to David to make sure he got in safely after the long drive, I left him to it with his boys because nothing ruins a Guys Weekend like a girlfriend who calls all the time. I went to the farmers market via the bus and got caught in a thunderstorm and an interracial homeless couple out of their minds on illegal substances got into a physical fight over whether or not the gentleman was hitting on me (he was). I brushed the cat and slept in the EXACT middle of the bed and kept all the sheets and covers to myself.

And was very, very happy when David came back home (hung over as hell and looking like he had had the time of his life!)