Game Two

After taking in a little batting practice from behind the first base line, watching Pete Kozma, Peter Bourjos, and Randal Grichuk rocket baseballs into the outfield, I found my usual standing room only seat behind home plate, with an almost-used-up red moleskine and pen. I received various reactions from elderly folks passing me on the way to their seats.

“You have a great seat, don’t you?”

“You’re gonna melt down there.”

“Is this where you write your love letters?”

Eventually, a Waino-height African American dad and his sons took up residence next to me. After the dad made sure he wasn’t swiping any reserved “seats”, his sons began chatting about baseball.

“Do you know any of those guys down there?”

“Some.”

“He got traded?!”

“Who?”

“David Freese.”

In the end, it was a loss. But for one more game that doesn’t count for anything anyway, I didn’t care too much. I left at the top of the 9th after a much-needed self-esteem-booster Peter Bourjos home run. At least, I hoped it helped the struggling old boy.
I left a little more red shy of lobster.

Anyway, the girls had spent their morning shopping. Never found out what they bought. But we ended up a few minutes later at Coral Cove Beach for more shell-combing and beach walking.

C. R. Chicks for dinner – stacks of split wood and giant spit of rotisserie chickens in the window as we ordered up. I made it halfway through the huge portion of macaroni and cheese with bacon. When grilled cheese isn’t available, next best thing.

Then it was time to view the light, a red brick pillar about 150 years old shining in a pattern Grandma wasn’t able to figure out, it was so complicated – Jupiter Inlet Lighthouse. The two Fits sat there for some time, watching from the backdrop of rose-gold sunset on green field.

A drive back down 95 where the youngest three girls drove off for ice cream and Mom and Grandma allegedly left for Howley’s to find some pie and coffee before one of Mom’s favorite shows on HGTV, “Rehab Addict”.