8 : 435 : 6 : 1

Wednesday was a temperature that couldn’t decide whether it was warm or cool for most of the day. We left the Big House – Linnea-Irish and I – for another spectacle downtown at the ballpark.

Another swelling crowd of red filled the stands by 12:45. Linnea and I housed ourselves up top right field in the shade.

Linnea did ask me on the drive down, “What would you have done if you were at the game last night?”

“Thrown a rotten tomato at Joe West.”

So bold.

Fortunately for his own safety, Joe West rotated to Third Base for the afternoon, and kept himself low profile and out of trouble. Until the next time he decides to toss a venerated veteran from the field for no logical reason whatsoever. He’s fortunate St. Louis fans are so well-behaves.

We had about half an hour to fork through a ziplock of Trader Joe’s chocolate peanut butter cups before the first pitch.

“I’m guessing this whole bag will be gone by the end of the game,” Linnea predicted, then looked at my slyly. “And I will have eaten only three of them.”

Almost true. There were four left as we walked out of there at 3:28PM.

But before that, there were nine innings of more offense than the Cardinals had managed to scratch together the past four games combined.

In between those innings, I read and replied to a small passel of emails regarding the Colombian consulates in Chicago and San Francisco. If this thing ever ends…

So the Cardinals left on a high note, happy flight-ing it out to LA that evening, while Linnea and I began the slow two hour and fifteen minute crawl from our seats back to Weldon Spring.

Puck was a wild man as soon as I walked in the door. He had spent part of his day playing with neighbor kids down the street before Carrie-Bri taught him how to make paper skulls for his future mud fort by pressing shredded mail ad pulp into skull ice cream trays.

“It is well to remember that the entire population of the universe, with one trifling exception, is composed of others.” – John Andrew Holmes