41 : 5 : 344 : 5 : 6

I caught a glimpse of Puck in my rearview mirror on the way to Art Camp that morning. Head bobbing. To K-Pop. It’s not the most manly genre of music, I’ll admit. But it definitely pumps them up. And it’s kind of funny. So Puck asks for it every time we get in the car. I mix in a little Spanish guitar just to keep things interesting.

Nine o’clock. Julia had just led all the kids off to the art room for the morning while Yali and I lingered on the playground. Out in the northeast, we had some weather threatening to break. At least one could hope. A dense bank of dark gray.

When it did blow through not much later, Yali ran around in the wind, jumping up and down. Not much short of what he did when he learned I was making burgers Tuesday night. Up and down, clapping his hands. This time, there was no hand-clapping though. He was too busy chasing himself around the playground in the cool blast of a July thunderstorm.

Eventually that storm decided to rip itself apart somewhere west of us. But it had left enough rain in our vicinity for Yali to get his fill. I noticed he’d decided to rest stomach-down on the slide, soaking himself in rain water. He’d also decided to slurp it up like a little puddle of soup as a late morning refresher.

Day Two of Art Camp ended with Yali slow-motion cartoon-punching Bob and Heidi up and down the side entrance ramp. Short stuff thinks he’s got the power of a six-foot four, two hundred fifty pounder, apparently.

Speaking of six-foot-four, two hundred fifty pounders: it was game time. Carrie-Bri, Rose, and I hit the road for another Cards-Pirates match-up downtown. On the way, we stopped at the team store to check out Yadi’s new clothing line with all that island color Puerto Rican flair.

And then – finally – Mr. David Freese back at the plate. The applause echoed through 42,000+ fans – again – despite the fact that this was already his sixth game back in St. Louis this year. But St. Louisans don’t forget. They also don’t forget to applaud the opposition when a ridiculous play is made, like Rodriguez’s sprawling leap in the outfield to snag Matt Holliday’s sharp liner into right in the first. The applause was thunderous for that one. But I just couldn’t.

Meanwhile, Elmer, Jaya, Rose, and Francis sat on the opposite side of the stadium for John Goodman night at the ballpark. I had a feeling there was more emphasis on nachos and pretzels than there was on Kolten Wong’s dangerous flying head-first slide into first for an RBI single.

But in the end, it was another home loss, and another disappointed crowd on the home front. Not looking pretty…