From time to time I’ve littered this blog with baseball metaphors, and as the Major League Baseball season begins its second half of the season I thought perhaps this would be a good time to provide predictions for the second half, though without a crystal ball I will just count on hope and optimism as I always have. ¶ I realize many of the readers of this page are doing so with the regards for their own therapy regarding breast cancer and may not know, nor care for what was once known as the “national pastime” here in the states. ¶ I would suspect those of you from places like Guam, Australia, Russia and France may not have an understanding for the game. Believe me, there are times while Bonnie and I sit on the couch watching our beloved last place Red Sox when we believe and verbally opine on members of the officiating crew that also seem to know little about the game – so don’t feel bad. This reference to our two friends in Guam is a little jab as I know both of them understand the game completely though one of them supports that team from the Bronx which is completely unacceptable, so, with the mid-summer classic out of the way where millionaire pitchers from the American League were absolutely shelled by the millionaire offensive units from the National League allowing the second half of the MLB season to begin in earnest, I thought it only right to toss a few salvos their way. Feel free to comment Jay!! … ¶ It’s Thursday morning here in northern California, and while a heavy blanket of fog restricts my view to about two-hundred yards it’s time to start gearing up for the weekend. Our special girl is scheduled to attend “Mending Under the Moon” on Friday, yes Friday the 13th, and while she wrestles with her own little issues about heading out to Sonoma all by herself for a three-day retreat, her biggest concern just might be missing our special Friday night soiree’s! ¶ It would appear we are no longer the hell-raisers we once were when Friday afternoons ran all the way through Sunday afternoon without even blinking. Such is not the case these days. Our Friday afternoons are quietly spent in our home, with our bulldog, LuLu watching the game, and dining on tapas. There may be a cocktail or two during these weekly gatherings, but nothing like it once was, which is to be expected. ¶ We played hard as youngsters, and the great thing about our relationship is that we played hard together, and being together each and every Friday evening for the past twenty-four years has made dealing with breast cancer a hell of a lot easier than from what I’ve learned from some (not all) of the men who meet monthly at the Finding Inner Strength Together (FIST) meetings. So, for as hard as it will be this weekend for the two of us to be separated, I know Bonnie will be in good hands spending time on her own with women who are learning to rediscover joy and hope in their own lives. I have visions of Bonnie right now, peeling back a layer or two of her somewhat modified Type-A demeanor. ¶ So whether you’re a SOX fan, or support one or two of the twenty-nine other teams out there – know this as the second half begins … we’re in good shape!
Peace,
Papa
