Twenty-Six

The morning had a chill to it, not a bite yet, but it was coming; you could feel it. Real September was on the move, and I still wasn’t ready.

After I dropped Puck off at school, I checked in at the Big House where Linnea-Irish was just waking up for her DQ shift, surprised by the time. She had seven and a half hours of soft serve and burgers ahead of her.

So at about eleven o’clock, because we wanted to see the cutie work the drive-through, Mom, Carrie-Bri, and I ordered three chicken strip baskets. I think Linnea knew it was us before she saw the car pull around the corner. Who else would order that many chicken strip baskets?

Tin Grin stuck her head out the window as she took Mom’s credit card. In a deep turquoise blue top and visor, she really did look pretty cute. She was instructed to tell us by her manager that they were, “killing the chicken back there.”

Later – I’m not sure how it came up – but Carrie and I reminisced about the old days when we’d lick sand dollars, especially before eating grilled cheese (we always called it “toasted cheese” growing up) and tomato soup for dinner. We weren’t really sure why.

“Oh, Mom’s making toasted cheese and tomato soup? Better go break out the sand dollars.”

Twenty-six: ratcheting up quickly.

Carrie and I picked up our complimentary theme night ticket halfway to St. Patrick’s Day Irish green STL ball caps, and found our seats in Section 507 of the bleachers, laughing a little to ourselves over the female-based questions we had heard throughout the evening already, i.e:

“Ah! I’m just so scared of all the bats flying around!” (Birds.)

“Why is it so cold today?” (September.)

“Are these the bleachers?” (Yes, ma’am, they are.)

Anyway, with a mostly ignore box of chocolate peanut butter cups (ignored by my standards anyway; too much excitement) it was one of those almost-annoying pitchers’ duels. But what do you know, it became another Adam Wainwright shut-out as the crowd even began to chant – WAIN-O! WAIN-O! WAIN-O! – as if he were Yadi or something. That was a new one for us. But the job was done, the Cards’ 21st shut-out of the season. And only ten games to go before that magic thing they call October Baseball.