{"id":1296,"date":"2017-04-04T23:00:26","date_gmt":"2017-04-04T23:00:26","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/womanoverboard.me\/?p=1296"},"modified":"2019-08-06T13:02:51","modified_gmt":"2019-08-06T13:02:51","slug":"home-run","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/womanoverboard.com\/?p=1296","title":{"rendered":"Home Run"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"cardinals\"<\/p>\n

Wow! What a start to our Cardinal baseball season! Although I did not get to go to the game, I think I had just as much fun at home–and didn\u2019t have to walk as far to the bathroom.<\/span><\/p>\n

It\u2019s amazing how far we\u2019ve come with television sets. I remember all my family crowding around a little 12-inch screen. Now, thanks to our ever-changing world of technology, we don\u2019t have to go anywhere, because the picture is larger than life. It used to be that you would see a tiny image of a \u201cstar\u201d on TV, and then meet them in person and be amazed at how much larger-than-life they were. Now, you see an enormous 8-ft. tall and 3-ft. wide image of a baseball player, and go to the ballpark and laugh at how little he really is in real life. <\/span><\/p>\n

I do love going to baseball games–sitting there for hours, relishing a couple of hotdogs and cold beers, laughing and sharing the most intimate details of my life with my girlfriends. (The ambient crowd noise ensures utmost confidentiality.) My husband is there, but he\u2019s totally immersed in the game. I like when the games are long and boring, because then my girlfriends and I\u00a0can really get a good visit in without interruption. I hope that will happen tomorrow night when I actually go to the game.<\/span><\/p>\n

When I\u2019m at home, baseball is the perfect thing to have on TV when I want to do some deep reading. The quiet of the uneventful game against the World Champion Cubs offered me the peace I needed to navigate the wild world of magical realism that our son Kevin created in his novel. I was turning pages so quickly in anticipation of what happened next that I had flown through 56 pages of \u201cLily\u201d faster than the Cardinals could get to home base. They hadn\u2019t been there for several innings it seemed, judging by the silence of the droopy opening day crowd, all huddled under rain slickers and umbrellas. Boy was I glad we gave our tickets to son Sam and his wife. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYeah!\u201d I cheered. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou are cheering for the wrong team,\u201d Ted said. \u201cThe Cubs just tied the Cardinals.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t care who tied who–I JUST FINISHED KEVIN\u2019S BOOK–AND IT\u2019S A HOME RUN!”<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWell, don\u2019t give away the ending, because I have 30 pages to go,\u201d he said.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOh, O… K,\u201d I managed to utter.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhy are you crying,\u201d he asked. \u201cIs it that sad?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo, er, yes, Oh, I don\u2019t know. I can\u2019t think.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I got up, needing to walk, needing to scream–or laugh, or cry–which I was already doing. What I wanted to do was hug my son for this wonderful, 2 and 1\/2 year achievement. But I couldn\u2019t, b<\/span>ecause he was almost half a world away in Japan! He had started this novel while in Thailand teaching English as a second language. Now he’s editing it while taking Japanese i<\/span>mmersion lessons in Fukoka, Japan.<\/span><\/p>\n

All this reading and cheering was making my stomach churn.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAre you hungry, honey?” I asked. \u201cShould I go pick up something?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo, don\u2019t worry about me, I\u2019ll just have some of that pizza left over from last night.<\/span><\/p>\n

Then he really got me off the hook. He jumped up to come in for the pizza and reached the refrigerator door before I stood a chance. My hungry guy is so easy–no messing up a plate and lingering over the microwave–he enjoys it ice cold, right out of the baggie I put it in last night. (Imo\u2019s does somehow taste even better the second day. It\u2019s kind of like chili that way.)<\/span><\/p>\n

Well, I am going to surprise him with some home cooking, I thought–no Totino\u2019s Pizza Rolls with artificial preservatives for him. I had to prepare a little something healthy to balance the pizza. Besides, we had something to celebrate. Our son\u2019s first novel. <\/span><\/p>\n

I got busy in the kitchen and my Betty Crocker-self took over: I began scooping and mixing and slicing and dicing, and… <\/span>Voila!<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

Dinner for two by the TV just like when we were newlyweds and watched that wonderfully addictive series, <\/span>Rich Man Poor Man<\/span><\/i>. In the \u201colden days,\u201d as I tell my dumbfounded grandchildren, you only had one night to watch it. That was the night it was \u201cbroadcast\u201d–a word not in their generation\u2019s vocabulary.<\/span><\/p>\n

I had carefully prepared a bowl of cottage cheese, topped with two bright yellow peach halves. Then, not wanting to waste, I poured the shiny, clear heavy syrup over the whole bowl and garnished the peaches with a dollop of cranberry sauce from last week when I served one of Schnucks’ roasted chickens. Note: the shelf life of cranberry sauce is several months if stored in the refrigerator. <\/span><\/p>\n

Well, he thanked me profusely, and I felt so good, so productive–not the way Kevin must have felt when he completed his book. But I did feel, well, creative. \u00a0Now that I know I <\/span>can<\/span><\/i> make a good healthy dinner in a jiffy, I am on a roll with this home cooking.<\/span><\/p>\n

When\u00a0the big National Championship basketball game was about to start, I was\u00a0feeling the pressure those young men must feel during their dribbles. I had to put on my \u201cfull court press.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are you hungry for tonight?\u201d I asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I have a surprise for you,\u201d he said, a smile starting at the corners of his mouth. I stopped at the store on the way home.\u201d (Poor guy. He knows there\u2019s no food here.)<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou just sit tight and I\u2019ll serve you.\u201d He beamed.<\/span><\/p>\n

He very efficiently popped a black tray in the microwave. (I didn\u2019t have the heart to tell him it should go on a real plate, but hoped the plastic would not melt into the food). Then he scooped something out of another plastic, quart-sized container, and presented me with a delicious cabbage roll and chicken salad on Wheat Thins. I must tell you, everyone loves Straubs chicken salad, but from our experience, Schnucks chicken salad with the pecans is gourmet eating at its finest!<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMmm. This is so good! Thank you, honey.\u201d I oohed and aahed appropriately.<\/span><\/p>\n

I could tell he was so proud of himself.<\/span><\/p>\n

He glowed while carrying his plate to the sink and even rinsing it before leaving it on the counter. He\u2019d never shown any awareness of our dishwasher–probably because he\u2019d never seen me use it. He asked where I stored the plastic grocery bags. (They\u2019ve been under the sink for the ten years that we\u2019ve had our new kitchen). \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cUnder the sink,\u201d I said, and he turned around from the island sink I was referring to, and opened the dishwasher next to the main sink. \u201cNo, honey, that\u2019s the dishwasher. Turn around. Good. Yes, this sink. There\u2019s a cabinet door below it. That\u2019s where I keep them.\u201d<\/p>\n

I did not want to criticize him when he was trying so hard to please me–but how can a man who can fly an airplane not know how to work a dishwasher? Or at least spot one when it\u2019s right in front of him? Oh well, as if I don\u2019t have any fawlts. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

He smiled. So sweet and innocent was his joy, you would think he just went on his first ride at The Magic Kingdom–and like Aladdin, had just discovered \u201cA Whole New World.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Thinking me a fabulous cook, as I\u2019ve been his one and only wife and he has no other frame of reference, he tried to impress me: \u201cSee, I can put together a meal, too, and I\u2019m happy to take the burden off you for a change.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd I <\/span>do<\/span><\/i> appreciate it. Thanks <\/span>so much<\/span><\/i>, honey.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Tummies full, we settled down to watch Gonzaga battle UNC.<\/span><\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t really care who won. I knew I\u2019d <\/span>already<\/span><\/i> won. My husband may not be perfect at plumbing, handy with a hammer, or good at grilling, but, in a pinch, he can throw together a satisfying meal from the Schnucks deli in no time! No \u201cgender specific\u201d roles for us. \u00a0As we get older and live together longer, we seem to be morphing into each other. We finish each other\u2019s sentences and often say the same thing out loud at the same time. Like: “Sure wish the kids would call.\u201d Then we look at each other and laugh.<\/span><\/p>\n

I find myself gently pulling the remote control from his hand when he falls asleep now, and I’ve\u00a0actually had success at turning the TV off–a blessing at night when I want to read my Kindle in bed. It\u2019s an especially satisfying trick since I have <\/span>never<\/span><\/i> been able to turn it<\/span> on<\/span><\/i>. The remote has always been HIS domain. But we are evolving and roles are changing. I may even begin teaching him how to use the washing machine. <\/span><\/p>\n

I imagine this role changing is a survival technique that God instills in aging couples: If I go first, he will be able to feed himself. If he goes first, I will be able to watch TV.<\/span><\/p>\n

Some things haven\u2019t changed: UNC won their sixth national championship, beating Gonzaga (whoever they are) 71 to 65. I can\u2019t say I saw it. I was too distracted to sit and watch the game with my sweet husband, who watched alone. As usual, I got so caught up in writing this that I think I went overboard. <\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Wow! What a start to our Cardinal baseball season! Although I did not get to go to the game, I think I had just as much fun at home–and […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":1354,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[27],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1296","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-blog"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/womanoverboard.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1296","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/womanoverboard.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/womanoverboard.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/womanoverboard.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/womanoverboard.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1296"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/womanoverboard.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1296\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/womanoverboard.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/1354"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/womanoverboard.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1296"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/womanoverboard.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1296"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/womanoverboard.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1296"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}