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devilgrrlI have a load of pictures from the week-end, but my frigging stupid FTP programme crashes every time I try to upload something. So... Everyone will have to wait.
Steven stopped in on his way to tutoring to watch the ring ceremonies on telly. I had no idea who half the people were. I'm hoping Dawn, Mike, and Dani were able to to get tickets.
It is nice that they got a lot of the guys from past teams out there. And for anyone who cares, here's a funny story:
My brother in law, Mike, is a HUGE Red Sox fan and has the tattoo to prove it. Steven is, as well, having grown up here. My sister, Dawn, and I... not so much, but like most baseball widows, we tolerate the fanaticism. This sometimes involves things like being dragged up and down Yawkey Way, touring the park, and other such fun things. We had gone in early because Mike and Steven wanted to do the park tour, as well as buy souvenirs.
Anyone who's been to Fenway Park knows the Souvenir Shop. It's run, in part, by Twins Enterprises (those are the people who do the soft "franchise" caps), and is also where you can buy tickets for the tours. Dawn and I were looking at the kids shirts, when suddenly we here our respective other halves squealing: "Is that who I think it is!? OH MY GOD!! Does anyone have a pen!?"
I retrieved a pen from my bag and handed it to Mike, who was closest. The next thing Dawn and I knew, the boys have run over and are excitedly talking to a somewhat cranky-looking old man. Evidently, they were begging for autographs.
"Who the christ is that?" I say to my sister. She shrugged. Neither of us had any clue who this poor old man was.
I guess he wasn't too used to being recognized, either, because when Steven and Mike first asked for his autograph, he snapped "What do you want it for!? It ain't worth nothin'!" I guess their knowing who he was soothed him, though, because after that, he smiled and happily signed all our tickets, as well as chatted with the boys for a bit.
As I was to find out after, the old man they had convinced to sign are tickets turned out to be Johnny Pesky, of Pesky Pole fame.
Indeed, here we are later, in front of the aforementioned pole:
That was my first Red Sox game, ever. So, as it turns out, the team I saw that night would be the team that would go on to win the World Series. I guess if there was a year to see the Red Sox, 2004 was it.
I'm taking it easy today. I definitely overdid it this week-end-- I can tell by the crutch bruises on my sides from where my underwire dug in. I'm also having one of the leftover beers from the fridge. It's a little wierd tasting, though... it almost tastes like olives. It's Hoegaarden Belgian White beer, in case anyone likes olivey beer.
I need to get motivated to shower. Bah.
Steven stopped in on his way to tutoring to watch the ring ceremonies on telly. I had no idea who half the people were. I'm hoping Dawn, Mike, and Dani were able to to get tickets.
It is nice that they got a lot of the guys from past teams out there. And for anyone who cares, here's a funny story:
My brother in law, Mike, is a HUGE Red Sox fan and has the tattoo to prove it. Steven is, as well, having grown up here. My sister, Dawn, and I... not so much, but like most baseball widows, we tolerate the fanaticism. This sometimes involves things like being dragged up and down Yawkey Way, touring the park, and other such fun things. We had gone in early because Mike and Steven wanted to do the park tour, as well as buy souvenirs.
Anyone who's been to Fenway Park knows the Souvenir Shop. It's run, in part, by Twins Enterprises (those are the people who do the soft "franchise" caps), and is also where you can buy tickets for the tours. Dawn and I were looking at the kids shirts, when suddenly we here our respective other halves squealing: "Is that who I think it is!? OH MY GOD!! Does anyone have a pen!?"
I retrieved a pen from my bag and handed it to Mike, who was closest. The next thing Dawn and I knew, the boys have run over and are excitedly talking to a somewhat cranky-looking old man. Evidently, they were begging for autographs.
"Who the christ is that?" I say to my sister. She shrugged. Neither of us had any clue who this poor old man was.
I guess he wasn't too used to being recognized, either, because when Steven and Mike first asked for his autograph, he snapped "What do you want it for!? It ain't worth nothin'!" I guess their knowing who he was soothed him, though, because after that, he smiled and happily signed all our tickets, as well as chatted with the boys for a bit.
As I was to find out after, the old man they had convinced to sign are tickets turned out to be Johnny Pesky, of Pesky Pole fame.
Indeed, here we are later, in front of the aforementioned pole:
That was my first Red Sox game, ever. So, as it turns out, the team I saw that night would be the team that would go on to win the World Series. I guess if there was a year to see the Red Sox, 2004 was it.
I'm taking it easy today. I definitely overdid it this week-end-- I can tell by the crutch bruises on my sides from where my underwire dug in. I'm also having one of the leftover beers from the fridge. It's a little wierd tasting, though... it almost tastes like olives. It's Hoegaarden Belgian White beer, in case anyone likes olivey beer.
I need to get motivated to shower. Bah.