Friday, August 29, 2014

Fabulous FaceTime and Faulty Memory

In a fit of anxiety (very close to the surface these days) because my comments
weren’t being posted to his site, but getting lost in the ether, I tried to FaceTime with Sassy Bear. He wasn’t home, so  I left a message and within 5 or 10 minutes my iPad was ringing.  I answered to see his smiling, and rather surprised face staring back at me.

We had a delightful, almost giddy conversation and he told me he’d located the problem with my comments and all was well again. I love FaceTime and always feel much better for actuality seeing the face and hearing the voice of a friend, rather than just the printed word.  I don’t know why we don’t use it more often.

Our conversation made my day. It also made me want to face-chat with others, too.  Anyone who wants to chat should know that in my isolated environment,  I’m open to all comers. Conversations R’ Us! 

RED Alert: I am a supreme mess! In case this hasn’t come through loud and clear already. 

I’m on the docket for 3 more neupogen shots this weekend, and had totally forgotten that I promised the teen age son of a customer that I would attend his baseball game this weekend…tomorrow, in fact. An email reminder from his mom pulled me up short.  Shit!

I get the shot at 8:30 and game time is at 10 a.m., so I think I’m safe there.  But, but, but…driving is a bit iffy after these shots and I don’t know where the ball field is located. I mean, not having kids why would I commit such things to memory?

The family’s summer place is here in town so maybe if I fill them in on the situation they could pick me up on their way out of town, too. If things go as they have in past years,  they will end up at Dos Locos to celebrate the win, or nurse their wounds at the loss. Either way, they could drop me off before they go on their way to celebrate.  

The other potential problem is that they may want me to join in their celebration at DL, and I am not sure how up-to-it I will be at that time.  I have my hat & sun block, but I’ll need to find some shade to protect my skin from possible infection.  Yes.  It's that bad.  God!  I hate being sick!

In any event, I can’t disappoint this kid.  I’ve watched him grow up. He’s a good kid, bright and boasts a very sick sensahumah - like me!  So, what’s not to love.  I’ll make it to that game come Hell or high water. Then I’ll come home and collapse. 

BTW: I don’t know anything about America’s Pass Time.  Not a thing. Should be an interesting day.

And so it goes.

*

8 comments:

  1. (shakes head) you know NOTHING about baseball, eh? sad. but then again, nawlins never had a baseball team.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Have fun at the game. I used to like watching my nephew play baseball when he was in school. (Personally I was never good at it.)
    Calvin

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Calvin: I have no idea what I was watching. Just mimicked everyone else. Seemed to work. Thanks for the visit.

      Delete
  3. Oh blimey! Don't you just want to get into bed, pull the duvet over, and let the world carry on in it's own sweet way? It's what I do - often.

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    Replies
    1. Ray: Oh I do, but I promised I'd be there to cheer him on. I will be under the covers shortly there after, no fear.

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  4. Here's what Carlos knows [or knew] about baseball.

    Yeas back, while we were living in Miami, his boss took the whole office, and spouses, to a Marlins game. Carlos knew [knows] nothing of baseball but I'd been to enough games that i would coach him, I guessed.

    First half inning, the Marlins are up at bat; 3 outs ... done ... all's well.

    The second half inning the other team [my memory is lost on this tidbit] was up to bat; 3 outs ... done.

    Carlos.Stands.Up. and says, loudly, "That was a good game." And then gets ready to leave.

    I had to remind him that there would be at least 8 more innings, to which he replied, "But everyone had a turn?"

    Bless his heart.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Seems Carlos and I could compare notes. Great story. Thanks for the visit.

      Delete

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