There’s not much news to report today. Another two hours on the Alter G. Another 12 hours sifting through Legos. We are about to hit DEFCON 3 for water use restrictions here. I believe you’re pilloried at that level if you touch at a sprinkler. Yup, I’m feeling pretty smug, and ahead of the power curve with all our dead grass out front. Sadly, I will take more pleasure than I should seeing the two sodded lawns down the street wither. They’re still emerald colored right now. People will also have to turn off their “aesthetic water features.” Damn. (Actually, I aspire to owning an aesthetic water feature.)
I am taking Eliot to a baseball game for Father’s Day. (Surprise, hon!) The San Antonio Missons (Double-A affiliate of the San Diego Padres. Appropriate, eh?) Mascot: Ballapeño. And then there’s Henry the Puffy Taco.
My good friend told me about him today. Apparently little kids chase him around the stadium during the seventh inning and try to tackle him before he reaches home plate.
Wikipedia adds: “Henry has only won the race once, in 1992. In that race, Henry mis-timed his steps and he inadvertently crossed home plate before his 10-year-old opponent. Nearly 20 years later the Missions hosted a rematch and, on June 24, 2010, the kid finally avenged his loss.” Brilliant.
P.S. The immobilization boot is getting a little stinky. Should I get autographs on it at Western States? Or on Asa’s nap mat? And do I bring my mom purse to the Fleet Feet engagement?