Twenty-Nine
Lunch after church. Someone had just mentioned how cold it was during the service, as usual, while the pastor got into topics involving the abolishing of animal sacrifice in the New Testament.
“I don’t know what you’re all talking about, “Dad countered. “It was hot in there.
“Me too,” Joe agreed. “I was sweating. … Because the lamb was slaughtered in the Valley of … Slaughter.”
Silence.
“I wasn’t there,” El Oso replied, “but I’m pretty sure you missed the point of the sermon.”
Mom looked over at Francis stuffing himself with a plate of chocolate brownies. “Francis, I know you’re almost twenty years old but, why are you eating dessert before your soup?”
Francis’ face was blank. “Well, it had a lot of vegetables in it…”
Then Linnea-Irish started telling me about the coyotes in the floodplain near Old Church.
“I’m going to tame them,” she informed me.
Sundays at the Snicketts house.
As we lounged on the porch in the afternoon, waiting for Joe and Jaya to return from getting Jaya’s ankle inspected at Urgent Care after it popped on Friday, and Rose from the Larry Rice Ministries homeless shelter volunteer meeting, the Cards – by default of Milwaukee losing to Pittsburgh – clinched a post season berth. But that wasn’t enough. We needed the division title next. Never too safe.
Carrie-Bri and I pushed that theme forward by attending the final regular season home game of the season at 7:05 that night.
Splash of orange sunset in a dark sky. Workhorse Lance Lynn on the mound, and a large handful of guys down-and-out by way of stomach flu. Before they announced the starting line-up, we squinted into the dugout from our perch in Section 429, trying to make out who had successfully arrived on the field, and who hadn’t.
“Lynn’s out there already. He’s okay. Wait a second … why isn’t Lyons in the bullpen? Maybe he has to play 3rd to cover for Carpenter.”
“Yeah. Ha ha … oh no. Waino’s stretching!”
Fortunately there were no relief pitchers – or starting pitchers – covering the infield or outfield that night. All the same, we still blamed that stupid flu for the 7-2 loss three hours later. Although they weren’t feeling badly enough not to dress up the young guys in cheerleading costumes for the flight to Chicago. Typical.