Shouldn't I really be too ashamed to post this picture?

Those girls. We're on a table, if you can't tell. Notice how hardcore I am with my "I love you" sign language. (Holla atcha, Steph.)

Okay, the weekend. (That was not this past weekend though the baby shower took place at this same spot, hence the flashbacks.)

Saturday: Lots of driving on a day when lots of other people were also driving. I was so irritated about the heavy traffic on the way down that I may have gone a little Mel Gibson alone there in my car. (Say what you will about him, I am forever indebted to Mr. Gibson for making me feel so very stable.) I had a really nice time at the shower though. Of all my friends in attendance, there wasn't one in the bunch that I haven't known since about fifth grade. It's neat to still have friendships with the same people with whom, at age 13, I was making guesses regarding who would lose her virginity first. (I think we all got that one right, eh?) The conversations these days have shifted of course from tales of drunken woe to jobs and babies. I had a nice chat with a friend who, like me, has had her fair share of complications in this arena and we clanked our beers and toasted to our vacant uteruses. (Uteri? Both work apparently, but while I was looking it up, to my delight, I found this.) The expectant mama-to-be whom we were celebrating looked happy and beautiful, as did the two new moms among this little group who both welcomed little girls into their lives in the last year. Babies, babies, everywhere.

Sunday:

Red Sox. In a stroke of good fortune, Dan landed tickets from a sales rep with whom he has an office supply account at work. Think Dunder Mifflin except Dan described the rep to me as "a little hottie" which was, perhaps, more detail than I needed. If he ends up having an affair with her it will be worth it because they were luxury box tickets. Without such luxury, I could have never attended such an event. Even in a shaded seat outside the air-conditioned suite, I was trying to stretch my legs to keep my knee sweat from puddling. How people sat under the direct sun in such heat, thigh to thigh with that guy is absolutely beyond my comprehension.

(That guy is a Danism. He has a flawless ability to pick out, even before any drinks are poured, which guy in the crowd will be the obnoxious drunk yelling obscenities at a rival fan or, in a bar setting, which guy will start the fight. We'll be sitting at one of these places only a short time before Dan nods his head in some relatively innocuous dude's direction and says simply, "That guy." Later on, after the guy has spilled his drink on a group of women or is getting escorted out by the manager, I'll nod to Dan, marveling at yet another right-on that guy pick. That girl is the one who will be puking in the public bathroom sink at the end of the night...or dancing on a table.)

So, the luxury box. It really felt all Jerry Maguire VIP in there. It's really as fabulous as you'd think. It was air-conditioned, of course, and there was a big leather couch from which you could watch the game on a big-screen TV in case you wanted to cool down (though you could also just watch it out the big windows that look down on the field.) There was a refrigerator full of beer and water, chilled white wine, red on the counter and plenty of food; fresh out of the oven pizzas, and of course the requisite Fenway Franks and 10-inch sausages served with onions and peppers. (The sausage is my Fenway fave...enjoyed it this time with a little white wine.) Dan threw down some sliders and Legal Seafood chowder with a cold beer and there were chips and guacamole and desserts all over. Midway through the game a tiny soft-shelled Red Sox cooler was passed around filled with Vanilla and Almond Haagen-Dazs ice cream bars. I've never been so relaxed at a baseball game. As I sat there, my feet up on the rail and plenty of space in my padded seat, looking out on the field and the sunny day, I thought, "I'm going to have to own one of these."

I am not much of a capitalist. Matters of money and of business in particular don't interest me. In fact, if I can get through this life with minimal business savvy or even contact, I will be grateful. That said, I am fascinated by the business of sports. The politics of sports. The underbelly of sports. I like to look around at the owner's box and the press areas and the cameramen shooting the game for ESPN or whichever TV network got the contract for the season and imagine all the deals and hand-shaking that goes on for things to run as they do. I've told Dan before that if I ever came into big money---like really big money---I would want to own a sports team. It's a bizarre yen of mine and I don't even like sports that much. (At the last game I went to, I wondered aloud why everyone was booing Kevin Youkilis before my friend explained the "Youk, Youk, Youk" that fans chant when he gets up to bat.) But the business of sports fascinates me, even as it maddens me how little team loyalty there is. The Johnny Damon becoming a Yankee thing really threw me. How does a team, a city, embrace a guy whom they were rooting so heartily against only months before? It's not a Yankees/Red Sox thing---I like the rivalry more than either team---it's that I just don't understand how people can get behind any player who was the enemy before papers changed hands. Though, I totally loved the whole Lebron James story and I had no idea who Lebron James was even a month ago. I like sports news. I like the stories behind the sports. So, while I'm up there in the fancy box, or in any seat for that matter, more than the game, I am taking in as much as I can about how the thing is running.

Yesterday, I was taking this in:





It was a great vantage point for the game. I've had kind of ridiculous luck in terms of seats at Fenway. I sat in a luxury box the first time I ever went there. My second time, Dan and I went to see Jimmie Buffet when he played Fenway and our seats were on the field. My third time, Dan's former boss offered us his tickets after something came up last-minute and he couldn't attend. Those were pretty good seats too.

We even sat behind this guy, who I guess is a pretty big fan.

And also very, very pretty. Ladies, I was always Team Damon but, my goodness, it is not makeup...he is wicked hot (just not so much in this picture).



She was there too:





We were four rows back from the field and it was against the Yankees. Ridiculous luck. (We were also right near the Sox dugout. Ben chatted casually with Francona and the players during the game. You know I was watching that interaction the entire time.) After that game, Dan said to me, "This isn't what Fenway is like. Most people don't have this experience."

While I have been there a handful of times since (saw the Rolling Stones there too!), my crazy-good-seat luck had run out...until now. This time around, during one of the muggiest days of the season, when New England fans were at their least fresh, I had this experience:





That could be my favorite part. The rest of the bathroom was clean and lovely. It was a fantasmo experience even if the Red Sox lost...who were they playing again?

After the game, Dan and I struggled to decide whether we should go home and veg out for the night or head to a movie. I knew that stepping inside my apartment would fill me with the anxiety of jobs undone so we opted for the movie on our quest for a full funday Sunday.

Inception. Holy shit. We were pushed over the edge to see it by a reviewer who said it was like "mental calisthenics."

"I like mental calisthenics," I said, and we went.

Indeed, my brain is sore today. My review: Another solid, entertaining movie. (This was also my review for Leonardo DiCaprio's last summer movie, Shutter Island, but this one was way better.) I was fidgeting and tense from suspense right up to the end. I even asked myself at one point whether the cortisol surge I was sure I was experiencing was healthy. The movie was about two and half hours long and the fact that my bladder and my attention span didn't notice (Dan pointed it out), is a testament to how captivating the movie is. It's not going to change your world view, you're not going to feel particularly inspired walking out of there---it's not that kind of movie---but it's good in the way you sometimes need a movie to be; again, just solid entertainment.

When we got home I put on my blinders to all the laundry laying around and went to bed. Same went for this morning when I saddled up to my desk rather than tending to a thing. And now it's 8:30 at night. I've been sitting at this desk since 9am and the crazies are settling in. That means it's time to end this post because I think I've already crossed the rambly threshold. Dan called to see if I wanted to meet him at the batting cages after work and though it would have been fun (probably really fun...I've never been to the batting cages) I wanted to try to be one of those people instead; you know, an accomplisher of things.

The sky is black right now as a big thunderstorm is headed our way. Bring it! Nothing better than a thunderstorm on a summer night. Baseball games, cold movie theaters, thunderstorms...Hell, maybe I do like summer.