Mr. McDreamy
“I love you, big squishy. You’re my big guy. Have a great day!”
“You smell weird.”
“That’s citrus. Bye!”
“Bye!”
I can’t say that’s a completely unordinary type of interaction between Puck and myself before he walks out the door to school on any given weekday morning. Granted, he rarely calls into question my “scent”, but there’s always something interesting that comes out of his mouth.
Some days feel like a week. By the time I pulled up the driveway sometime close to ten o’clock that night, it was one of those days.
Lindenwood University – 4:40PM.
Linnea-Irish and I weren’t far back in the P – Z line, waiting for our autographed copies of “The Matheny Manifesto” and photograph tickets.
When we found seats only five rows back behind the VIP section, we quickly learned that the discussion and Q&A with the illustrious skipper did not begin until seven o’clock. We settled in for a long read through our respective fresh new copies of Mike Matheny’s thoughts. Interjected by comments from the somewhat crotchety elderly lady sitting next to us, sharing stories about all the ball players she’s met and worked with in the past eighteen-plus years, including female friends tossing peanut shells with their phone numbers written on them to cute ballplayers.
As soon as he walked across the stage in a sort of tan-ish suit that Carrie would probably disapprove: standing ovation. Affable, relatable, cracking jokes – hardly the Mike Matheny of post-game interviews. An hour and a half later, following appropriate intervals of applause, respectful Q&A, etc., Linnea and I stood in line to have our photo taken with the legend, courtesy Left Bank Books.
True to Snicketts girl fashion – handshakes.
“Thanks for coming,” he looked down at us from his six-foot-three height with a smile he would have to hold for another 500 photographs (my estimate), returning a strong handshake.
So Linnea and I got another dose of good baseball, just a few weeks out from Spring Training. It should hold us over for awhile. We walked back into the cold chill of the night, discussing our various thoughts and inspirations of the evening.