My mother picked up the boys on the afternoon of the Fourth
and whisked them away to play with sparklers and watch neighborhood fireworks
at her semi-rural homestead. It was the first Fourth of July Chris and I spent
without our kids for which we've given ourselves a reprieve because we haven't had a
vacation in six years. Not even a single day. I beat myself up for not having
the boys at first but after we got together with some friends and our cousins
and I got over it pretty quick.
On our way into the stadium one of our friends stopped to
talk to someone he recognized and a woman (so I'm told; I didn't hear) point at
Chris and remarked: "You're Dana Loesch's husband!" I feel like I should say
something self-deprecating right now before the trolls accuse me of being too
big for my britches. But I'm not. I read other bloggers doing this whenever
anything cool happens to them and I always wonder why they feel the need to cut
themselves down or pay some sort of due before fully accepting the
aforementioned cool thing. Onward!
We spent the evening downtown at the Cards-Cubs game where
Chris and I acted a fool and shouted at the field. I shouted so much that I
blew my voice out, genius, I know, because I was on-air Sunday and as I type
this I still have the vocal tonality of a razor-gargling barfly. I agree with
Phoebe Bouffet in that I sound infinitely better and way tougher. We ordered
24-ounce beers and sat next to a nice elderly gentleman with slacks so tight they
caused the worse case of camel tail I've ever had the misfortune of
Afterwards we trekked over to Mike Shannon's as did the rest
of Busch Stadium, and alternately holed up in a booth inside and stood out on the patio drinking our beer and wondering if we
were too old to be there and if not, what was the appeal of frat music, and why
don't we walk to Hair of the Dog? They have METAL on the jukebox! I like
Shannon's though' they've always been kind to us there and one time I
accidentally struck up a conversation with the man himself before realizing who
he was as I have a horrid inability to recognize, in real life, people from the
television screen or from the photos on the Web.
We spilled back into our house at an hour way past out
bedtimes and after I collapsed into bed Chris brought me up a slice of bacon
and I half-remember eating it.
Hope your holiday was Hallmark.