No diaper bag, no leashes, no strollers, no need for changes of clothing or secret stash of valium.

I'm trying to imagine a time you don't need leashes. Or valium.

secret stash of valium

I'm just pissed because I've apparently misplaced my secret stash of valium.

I have depleted my secret stash of valium and Kara disemboweled her leash.

I didn't know leashes had bowels.

Ben's team having now lost all 8 baseball games of the season,

Oof, I'm having a sudden urge to fly to Ohio and hit grounders.

Things Coach David Says About 8,000 Times Per Practice

"Down on the ball! Down on the ball!"

"Run through the bag!"

"Good eye! Good eye!"

"Keep your head down, you're flying out. Head on the ball."

"Don't step away. Step toward the pitcher."

Now that I think of it, pretty much all of baseball is related to (a) watching the ball very carefully at all times and (b) conquering your fear of the ball (both fielding and hitting). Because a lot of what you're training them to do is to counter the instinct to Get Away From The Flying Object.

Oof, I'm having a sudden urge to fly to Ohio and hit grounders.

Ben's in Mass. However, Owen's not too far away from benefiting from the practice. DH played high school and college baseball, so we're still hoping O settles on his left hand for throwing.

OK, I've made all my reminder calls for the wedding, and I now officially get to forget about it until I get to the church for the rehearsal this afternoon. And the sound tech said he'd help me move the sanctuary furniture back after the wedding (when the strapping young ushers will have other things to do, such as flirting with bridesmaids at the reception), so that should minimize my heavy lifting nicely.

we're still hoping O settles on his left hand for throwing.

We think Annabel has decided to be right-handed, much to her southpaw father's disappointment. Of course, if we really want to be obsessive baseball parents, we can teach her to bat left and throw right, like Ichiro.

My poor lefty brother only had my father teach him sports right-handed. So he bats, golfs, bowls and throws right-handed. That's all too hard for me. Fortunately, my FiL is also lefty, so O will have lots of teachers.

My dad would be on cloud nine if we could produce a pitcher, since he pitched in high school and nearly went to the minors before marrying mom.

Things Coach David Says About 8,000 Times Per Practice

"Down on the ball! Down on the ball!"

My biggest fault as a fielder was not putting my glove all the way down to snag grounders. (I've always had iffy depth perception.) And as a kid, my Dad would always yell "Put. Your. Glove. DOWN!!!!"

Fast-forward to post-college, when I played with a recreational-level team. We played on Fridays after work, and my Dad would come and watch us (this was back when he was still drinking, and he loved to sit in the bleachers with a cold beer[s] and watch the game).

I was playing third base and missed a grounder because of my old bad habit, and immediately, as if 15 years hadn't passed, I heard from the bleachers: "Put. Your. Glove. DOWN!!!"

Ben's in Mass. However, Owen's not too far away from benefiting from the practice.

::reroutes flight plans::

Maybe, I just wanted to Teppy to field them.