It's an adventure, Charlie!

I am a very brave soul. Today I bought from a scalper.
I went up to guys who were ginormous, and guys who looked like thugs, and guys who looked like rich snobs, and every other kind of guy out there. (And in doing so I realized that rich snobs annoy me the most.) The prices were just plain crazy. And the number of people looking for tickets was crazy. But gall dang it I had requested this day off back in April to go to this game, and I was going to go. After a lap around both Target Field and Target Center with no success, and with the game already started, I had to decide whether or not I should think about giving up. But what kind of boring story would that be? I didn't want to. I decided to head toward the ballpark one last time.
And there I found a normal-looking guy selling the one extra ticket he had for $15 to a scalper. "No! You should've sold it to me! Now he's going to scalp me!"
"Oh, I'm sorry! If I had known..." he turned to the scalper, "Tell you what, sell it to her for $20."
The scalper was holding on to a $10 bill, looking through his wad to find a 5 for the guy. Not finding one he gruffly turned to me, "Just give the guy $20!"
And so I did. The guy was happy because he got $5 more than he thought he was going to, I was happy because I finally had a ticket and because I'd rather give money to the normal guy than the scalper, and the scalper was crabby because he lost a sale. "Now I won't be able to eat!" he yelled after me. Yeah. Cuz I care. He can eat the rest of the tickets he wasn't able to sell because he was asking too much.
It was annoying that he stepped in, but I suppose I can't balk at $20 too much. I had set my limit at $15, but there was nothing out there, and it was a $35 ticket. It felt a little far from home plate, but beggars can't be choosers. And now I learned that I would rather sit up higher and closer to home than closer to the field but farther down the line.
Ooh, and I can't complain at $20 too much cuz I got a free shirt. TC was shooting them in my section, and rather than stand up like everyone else, I decided I would stay seated, figuring that it wouldn't come to my area, and if it did, staying seated would make it easier to dive. My technique worked. The people next to me were in the bathroom, and it fell right next to me. An easy dive.
And it was good that I got the shirt because someone two rows up spilled his beer, trickling down onto the bottom of my purse, which I could now wipe off because I had a shirt.
And the shirt is now in the washing machine.
It was a nice day for a game (though with no breeze or shade, a little hot), and we won, and I don't think I got too sunburned. A bit of a farmer tan maybe, but not burnt.
Ooh! And excitement of excitement, the fire alarm went off. A big siren sound, followed by an "Attention, please!", followed by everyone looking confused, followed by everyone cheering.
All in all, a good day.

(Though I still wasn't able to take my nieces, Target Field. Still not your biggest fan. Your loveliness is eclipsed by your inability to supply me with tickets.)

Today is Stupid Guy Thing Day. I would just like to say, that stupid guy things are a big part of why I love boys. So Happy Stupid Guy Thing Day!

Dear StubHub people,

I have no intention of paying $31.95 apiece for Standing Room Only seats on June 30th. Nor do I intend to pay $64 apiece for the Home Run Porch. I realize now that it was dumb to not order my tickets online and pay the fine (I mean convenience fee) when I had the chance, but I seriously thought that I'd be safe buying them at the stadium one working day later. I'm willing to pay for the tickets, but it's just not fair for you to try to gouge me so much. I have two darling nieces I want to take to the game! Please be nice and let me!
Sincerely,
Lucy

II Timothy 2:11-13

"Here is a trustworthy saying:
If we died with Him,
we will also live with Him;
if we endure,
we will also reign with Him.
If we disown Him,
He will also disown us;
if we are faithless,
He will remain faithful,
for He cannot disown Himself."

I love that. I was going to write more here about why I love it, but I don't think my words will add anything to it. He is good.

How the heck...

does one lose 3 hubcaps within a month and a half? My new car looks so ghetto now! I was able to get the one back that fell off in the carwash, but the other two are gone. Grr...

Advice of the Day

If you have a bum knee, one that was injured years ago and still has occassional flare-ups, one that has been reinjured and the ache has yet to subside, one that occassionally experiences sharp pains that make you think someone is jabbing a fork into it, do not, when that sudden shooting pain hits in a way that is nearly unbearable so that you bite your lips so that you don't go 'AAAHHH!' and disturb the residents at the nursing home you work at, then stomp your foot in frustration. At least not the foot of that same leg. It won't help your cause.

Book Review: "The Invisible Wall: A Love Story That Broke Barriers," by Harry Bernstein

I've been thinking lately that I've been reading too much fiction. Not solely fiction, but mostly fiction. I'm a grown-up. I should change it up more often and make myself a bit smarter. So when I was at the library a week or two ago, I decided to see if there was anything in the biographies that sounded interesting. Nothing jumped out at me in the 'A's, but when I got to Bernstein and found this book, I decided it sounded good.

And it was. Bernstein grew up in England during WWI. His family was very poor, and the little money his father made he spent drinking and gambling. His mother worked hard to raise Harry and his brothers and sisters, trying to give them better lives.

On the street where they lived, the Jews were on one side and the Christians on the other. They didn't really ever cross over, unless the Jews needed something at the Christian store or it was the Sabbath and the Christians went to the Jewish homes to stoke their fires. Or if a nice Jewish girl wanted help with her homework from a nice Christian boy. Except that that last one wasn't supposed to happen.

The book was mostly about Bernstein growing up and what his neighborhood was like, though a big part of that was shown through his sister's relationship with a Christian boy across the street. It was a sweet story and fast reading (actually, it read like a novel). Bernstein apparently has an amazing memory, considering he started writing this when he was 93. He wrote a sequel, too, which I want to read sometime. Because I very much enjoyed this one.

The Wells Fargo Wagon

UPS trucks keep stopping on my block. They're never for me. So sad.