The von Bloggenschterns are off yet again, darlings!
We are headed en masse in a southernly direction, along with the beauteous German exchange student Countess Felicitas, to show her - among other things - the Great American Pastime.
And, noooooo. I do not mean the barbecuing of large forest beasts, scrapbooking, or the annual mooning of Amtrak trains (not that there's anything wrong with any of those things - they're just not on this particular agenda).
The Great American Pastime I'm talkin' about is baseball, baby.
While I'm no huge fan of the sport, I love the majesty of it all, and I love, love, love people watching and eavesdropping. The game itself is beginning to grow on me after some 20-odd (very odd) years with the Baron.
The hubster, on the other hand, is a huge fan, and one of his favorite sayings is "While I love hockey, baseball is my passion". It's an enthusiasm that has been passed down to Duke 1 and 2. Which, in my estimation, is a marvelous thing. There is nothing quite so enjoyable for me as watching the men folk bond over score sheets and garlic fries.
A few years ago, the von B's made a 3 week cross-country trip - we dubbed it the "Mall and Ball Tour". We started in Seattle, and ended in Nashville. We were indiscriminating in our choice of venues - we saw both Major League games and Single A games. The only rules were - for every hour we spent in a baseball stadium, we would spend an equal amount of time in a mall. Sometimes the pickin's were slim, let me tells ya (Boise? Hellooo?), but I stuck to my guns. It was a difficult mission, but a character-building one. It also illustrated to my children how perseverent (and ultimately insane) their dear maman is.
We had a grand old time, saw many a bizarro roadside attraction (courtesy of yours truly and my mad researching skillz), and ate at some of the tastiest, dive-iest places you'd ever be afraid to set foot it. It is a trip we still talk about to this day, and it's the gold standard against which our boys measure all other family adventures.
I am praying and hoping that this weekend's escapades rank right up there to create some memories for Countess Fee to take far away home with her.
So, dear people of Seattle, I beseech you - step up to the plate.
.
We are headed en masse in a southernly direction, along with the beauteous German exchange student Countess Felicitas, to show her - among other things - the Great American Pastime.
And, noooooo. I do not mean the barbecuing of large forest beasts, scrapbooking, or the annual mooning of Amtrak trains (not that there's anything wrong with any of those things - they're just not on this particular agenda).
The Great American Pastime I'm talkin' about is baseball, baby.
While I'm no huge fan of the sport, I love the majesty of it all, and I love, love, love people watching and eavesdropping. The game itself is beginning to grow on me after some 20-odd (very odd) years with the Baron.
The hubster, on the other hand, is a huge fan, and one of his favorite sayings is "While I love hockey, baseball is my passion". It's an enthusiasm that has been passed down to Duke 1 and 2. Which, in my estimation, is a marvelous thing. There is nothing quite so enjoyable for me as watching the men folk bond over score sheets and garlic fries.
A few years ago, the von B's made a 3 week cross-country trip - we dubbed it the "Mall and Ball Tour". We started in Seattle, and ended in Nashville. We were indiscriminating in our choice of venues - we saw both Major League games and Single A games. The only rules were - for every hour we spent in a baseball stadium, we would spend an equal amount of time in a mall. Sometimes the pickin's were slim, let me tells ya (Boise? Hellooo?), but I stuck to my guns. It was a difficult mission, but a character-building one. It also illustrated to my children how perseverent (and ultimately insane) their dear maman is.
We had a grand old time, saw many a bizarro roadside attraction (courtesy of yours truly and my mad researching skillz), and ate at some of the tastiest, dive-iest places you'd ever be afraid to set foot it. It is a trip we still talk about to this day, and it's the gold standard against which our boys measure all other family adventures.
I am praying and hoping that this weekend's escapades rank right up there to create some memories for Countess Fee to take far away home with her.
So, dear people of Seattle, I beseech you - step up to the plate.
.
