... and it has nothing to do with Baseball or the Twins. Or maybe it does, partially (or even more than partially, depending how you slice and dice it, but this is not about culinary arts and sciences either.)
And it is nothing like about time you bring Slowey up instead of watching Blackie burn a game after another (that is a 'duh moment', really; kinda interesting and somewhat amusing to see how long Gardy's self-inducing plastic surgery cutting his nose to spite his face is going to last, btw...)
But I digress...
And as a matter of fact it did happen during the Twins' game last Saturday (so here is Twins and baseball connection #1; but for the life of me I cannot say that I remember much of that game - and I have been told that this is a good thing.)
So... one of the things that I learned in my 29 years (choke) in this world, is that life comes in layers and then are more layers added on top of those, and some mud, crud, lemons and other favorite (or not) citrus piling up. Great place for a flying (or not) thing of sorts to nest, settle in and stay comfortable and sit for a while (or something.)
So... once upon a time (story goes) some of those outer layers get peeled (for some weird reason; and I am so not gonna get into Psych 101 right here and now) crud falls off and one maybe discover that darn, some of the phenomenological (crud peel) disagreements (like whether Cuddyer or someone else is clutch or not or overpaid or not or whatever meaningless in the big picture of things - Twins reference #2) crap, once they are peeled, dropped, burned and done with, reveal something incredibly beautiful and similar and alike and attractive and irresistible and whatever. (Dots). Did I really say that? I guess I did... Live and let live. And once that happens that kinda (has to) smacks you upside the head. (Dots). I consider my head so smacked last Saturday, that I had to skip the Twins' game Sunday (sources tell me that I did not miss much) and it was for a good reason because Duensing was starting too (Twins reference #3), and elected to go for a 12 mile run in 99 degree heat index to clear my mind. Mind has not cleared yet, but I bonged on mile sixsomething. Glad to report that there were no casualties. No war either. Shalom.
And I am not about to write a novella (ha) about this either (for about a third of a million reasons.) But consider this a cryptic break in the regular programming (and I am not sure when there will be regular programming here) and live and let live. But enjoy the road and the little heart warming surprises (really, gotta be open to get those when they appear before your eyes, really) it might bring.
Shalom
Please feel free to comment here or throw your words of wisdom to me at thetenthinningstretch@gmail.com (and I can frankly use them :) )
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
And isn't that why we love baseball?
Unless you're a Yankee fan (which is like cheering for the lions over the Christians in old Rome) the road seldom actually ends where you'd like it to.
Still, we know enough to enjoy the travel.
Shalom, indeed.
Post a Comment