Homerun

Thirty-nine years ago, my husband received a phone call from a friend with some exciting news. "I just won four tickets to a Minnesota Twins game. Do you think you and your wife can join us?"

It didn't take long for my husband's reply, "Free tickets? Are you kidding? We're Dutch, sign us up!"

There was one catch, however. The date on the tickets was just a couple of days away and the game was at least a 7-hour drive one way. This was during our newly married, pre-kid days so it made perfect sense to all of us to throw a few things into the car, book a room and head down the road with minimal preparation. I have very little recollection of the game, but the thought of that trip always makes me smile. My guess is that we did silly stupid things, embarrassed ourselves in the big city and laughed until liquid squirted out of our noses. Not a bad memory.

Fast forward thirty-nine years and time for another phone call from our friend. "Hey, I just snagged four free tickets to a Twins game. Do you think it will work out for you to join us?"

Much has changed for all of us since that first phone call. My husband and I moved away from our home town. Kids are out of the house. Careers are sputtering through waning gasps. Grandchildren are waiting to be spoiled. Hair is thinning, graying or gone. Knees snap, crackle and pop. Parents are in need of caretaking. Vehicles have GPS systems and reliability.

What hasn't changed is my husband's response to free tickets. "We're Dutch, sign us up!"

This time the tickets were for a game a month away so we had time to make sure our medication pill packs, antacids supply and sunscreen were all in order. Expedia helped select a hotel with cutesy toiletry items and baby coffee pots in the room. Destinations were programmed into the navigator. A high school friend from the cities was contacted for a dinner out the night before the game. Departure times were orchestrated and parents were notified of our upcoming absence.

In the instant that our friends pulled into our driveway it was clear that our long-standing-many-years-separated friendship had not lost its zest. We were little country mice heading to the big city and the inside jokes that were funny thirty-nine years ago were just as entertaining as we rolled our way down the interstate.

That evening we met our high school friend and his wife at a nearby restaurant and hence, the storytelling began. Pranks in school, antics of questionable judgment, capers on road trips and the delights of youth were the common threads in all our tales. We laughed until we cramped our sides and agreed we were grateful for our long-suffering guardian angels. All too soon, our evening ended (due mostly to waning energy levels).

Quite frankly, I remember little of the ballgame itself. The Twins were not hitting well and I know they lost. Despite my foggy recollection of the details of the game, I smile every time I think of the trip.

Time with good friends is always a homerun.

Quick

Fast food is a convenience many folks partake of on hectic days. Truth to be told, I have limited experience in the fast food world and lest ye think I am a health snob, I am most certainly not. Goodness knows I could live on french fries for the rest of my living days without a murmur. My hesitancy in the quick food routine is my unfamiliarity with the lingo. Add to that my diminished hearing acuity and I am ordering with my fingers crossed, hoping to get what I want.

Case in point. I treated my niece to a Happy Meal last week. She is fairly savvy with the little box of goodies so she promised to coach me through the experience. We pulled up to the ordering screen and I confidently asked for one Happy Meal with chicken nuggets, Gogurt and milk. The faceless voice repeated my request and I confirmed her response. Just as I breathed a sigh of relief, the faceless one squawked "bozh or gurzh?" What? I repeated my order again, thinking I missed something. The garbly voice once again asked, "bozh or gurzh?" Desperate to comply, I said "Gogurt?", hoping I could just throw another word out and get this over with. Once again I hear "bozh or gurzh" and one more word, "toy." Now my niece realized the dilemma and said, "I think they want to know if I want a boy or girl toy in the Happy Meal." Last chance for me to get the drive through line moving again and I blurted out "Girl." Winner, winner, chicken dinner. We got the go ahead to pull forward. My niece sweetly consoled me and said, "My family always has trouble ordering, too." What she should have said was, "They have cheap hearing aids at Costco."

My husband is much more competent in the procedural requirements of ordering quick food. He usually knows what he wants and how to select items from multiple choice menus. He often has his food ordered before I have found the section on french fries. One gift we share, however, is difficulty in deciphering the voice on the other end of the drive through speaker. On our way out of town a couple of weeks ago, we found ourselves talking with the faceless one, hoping to get a cheeseburger, chicken nuggets and, of course, fries. All went well, until we heard, "You can get 2 muzmets for $5.00." What? "You can get 2 muzmets for $5.00." I looked at my husband and asked, "Do you know what she said?" He shook his head and was ready to ask for another repeat. At this point, I was getting impatient. We were already running late so I am thinking whatever deal she is offering is going to have to be ours. How much food can it be for $5.00? So, I yelled out to the faceless one, "Sure." My husband just shrugged his shoulders and pulled ahead. We grabbed our rather hefty looking bag of food and expectantly opened it up. In addition to our order, we were now the proud parents of 2 orders of chicken nuggets (10 each) for five bucks. Yes, that is 20 chicken nuggets. And this is where the story really takes a tragic turn. Twenty miles down the road, all nuggets were consumed and a few miles later, I was licking the last of the french fry salt from my fingers.  I looked at my husband and said, "I guess we were hungry." 

What I should have said is, "I'll pack sandwiches next time."