Last day of the spaghetti marathon. I took a break over the weekend. I am a little sad actually. This means I am going to have to cook again soon. I have no idea what I want to eat tomorrow. Maybe it is time to cook up some of those hamburgers I got last week. That might have to happen.
Went to the Tigers game on Friday. Not surprisingly it was the one game they lost this weekend. Still, it was fun. There were a ton of Tigers fans at the park. From what I heard and saw of the two other games, even more Tigers fans showed up for those. I have heard quite a bit of internet grumbling about a supposed "spitball" thrown by Jose Valverde. I personally hope he did throw a spitball. If you ain't cheatin, you ain't tryin. Someone posted a video of it to YouTube and it just looked like a straight ball to me. That was Charlie Brown's only pitch. The only reason Schroeder even put down signs was to make the other team think he threw something other than a straight ball. He also got thrown out trying to steal home one time because he worked himself up so much thinking about doing it that he slid half way down the base path. Never came close to the plate. Quite the silly cue ball headed character.
I really like my car. Today at a red light I was enjoying the breeze coming in the window so much that I wanted more. Popped the latches and ten seconds later the roof was down and I could continue on my way. I wonder what the other cars on the road think when I do stuff like that. They should just mind their own business.
Sometimes I remember that you have a blog. Then I read it and it makes me happy. Couple comments: I love that your Tiger story turned into a detailed Peanuts story after a wise quote from our father. Also, cars don't think.
ReplyDeleteSometimes Katelyn remembers that you have a blog, then posts about it on facebook, then I see it and then also remember that you have a blog. Then I read it and think to myself: it sure is odd how people so freely post their free-association rants on the internet for the world to read, if they care to.
ReplyDeleteSometimes no one cares what Adam remembers.
ReplyDelete