First of all–thank you to everyone who has visited my blog! I’m hoping to get time tonight to start returning the visits.
Okay, today’s letter is B. And today, in my little world, B stands for:
Baseball. I am a sucktastic player, but I love watching baseball. I always have. My Dad was a baseball fan, and one thing our family enjoyed doing, when we lived in Georgia when I was a kid, was going to Atlanta to watch the Braves play double-headers. Have you ever noticed how nice baseball players’ backsides are? (Yes, I’m a butt woman. I’ll admit it without shame.) I was born a Yankees fan. Not sure how that came about, since no one in my family was. When I lived in Anaheim in my mid 20′s, I went to see the Angels play the Yankees, and cheered as loud as I could for the Yankees. And quite a few years ago Joe had purchased tickets when the Rangers were scheduled to play the Yankees, but alas, that’s when they went on strike.
Birds. I love birds. I have a very pretty little white statuette of a bird on my desk. It has some black scrolling on the sides, and it makes me happy to look at it. My dog, Emmylou Wigglebutt-Girl also loves birds. But she prefers eating them to looking at them. Our second dog, Molly, was a border collie, and I’ll never forget the day when, still a puppy, she managed to catch a bird in the back yard, sneak it into the house, and demolish it on my comforter. I walked into the bedroom to see blood and feathers everywhere. I made Joe clean it up. Fortunately, normally the tinkling jangling sound from the dogs’ tags is enough to alert the birds to get hella away fast. The building where I work is all glassed on the outsides, and I sit in the front corner overlooking the parking lot. Every once in a while, a flock of birds will be soaring around, and one of them will fly right into the glass and make a huge loud THUNK! Poor things.
Banana Splits. When we were kids, our parents would call a session of the inquisition whenever one of us did something wrong. The perp was usually my brother, then I was second in frequency, with Izzybella lagging far behind. There was one night in particular when the inquisition just went on and on and on and on and on, because my brother (the perp in that particular case) just got his Irish up and refused to confess. I wasn’t going to confess, and nor was Izzybella, because we damn well didn’t do it. Then my dad, who was weary himself and wanted to go to bed, promised a banana split to whoever confessed. My sister had been craving a banana split for aeons, only to have our parents tell her she was still too young to be able to eat an entire banana split. So lickety split she stepped forward and said, “It was me.” Dad says he’ll never forget our brother and me turning our faces in astonishment, because we all knew who did it. So the next day Dad whupped her butt good and hard (for lying) and then took her out to get a banana split. She describes eating it with tears streaming down her face from the walloping. Poor kidlet.
Babies. I wanted a ton of children. But first I didn’t get married until a month before I turned 27. Still young, but I had what I suspect were at least 1 or 2 miscarriages, and then nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Laparoscopy revealed a frozen uterus and cul de sac. IVF was attempted and failed. No babies. I still love them, though, and whenever I’m around a baby, if I am comfortable enough with the parents I’ll beg to hold the child, and only return it upon the condition of its being hungry or stinky.
Buffy! You didn’t seriously think I was going to have a list of B items without including Buffy the Vampire Slayer, who would never mess around with sparkly vampires but would slay them, whilst using witty banter and wearing her stylish yet affordable boots. I love Buffy.
Bob Marley. What a dilemma–do I include him in the B day, for Bob? Or should he have to wait for M day, for Marley. I choose B. I have a cd of Bob Marley and the Wailers’ greatest hits, and I love, love, love it.
Bathtubs. Huge ones. The bigger the better. The tub we have at the apartment is teeniensie and taking baths is nowhere near as fun. Ideally I’d like to have the tub in the prefects bathroom at Hogwarts. When I read JK Rowling’s description of it in The Goblet of Fire, I was drooling. Big enough to swim in? Check. All kinds of foaming bubbles and scents? Check. Moaning Myrtle popping in for little chats? Well, that’s not so appealing, but since I’m not of the masculine persuasion, at least she wouldn’t be trying to peek at me.
Books!!!! I love books. Books are my joy in life. When I was a lone misfit kid, books gave me best friends. Fortunately, I found some incredible friends in later years, so books don’t have to take on that role. But I still love getting lost in a good book.
And that’s probably enough B’s. (Bagels, banana bread, Big Love, Baking.) Because if I keep talking about B’s, this post will be 20 miles long. I like B’s. (Big Bird. Baby clothes.)
Over and out.
