She who slays dragons

Okay, not exactly dragons...but at midnight in a dark house, it seemed almost as daunting as a dragon!

When we moved in two years ago, we were not happy to find quite a number of cockroaches living it up in the house. Why there were so many, we are not quite sure; could be because the house had been vacant for several months or because no one had ever taken the time to seal up cracks and crevices or because he previous owners were careless and trashy (my personal choice) or some combination of all three. It did not really matter to us why they were there or from where they had come, we just wanted them gone. Especially me. I huddled in the corner of the kitchen and cried the night we found three huge cockroaches peeking out from under the countertop KitchenAid stand mixer. Even Spenser the cat was afraid of those mothers.

It took months of pest control services (indoors and out), diligent cleaning, new siding, and the sealing of cracks and crevices to finally get rid of our unwanted freeloading guests. For the most part, on the rare occasions now when we see a cockroach, it is either dead or on its way to being dead - a much better situation than the cockroach rodeo we had when we moved in.

But that all changed last night. My nerves were on edge anyway, since it was J's first night out of town for a week-long business trip. Although it makes me sound like a ninny, I admit that I don't sleep as well when he is gone and that I freak out at every odd sound. Spenser was parked at the top of the stairs, staring at the wall and meowing. I kept shushing him and making him move away so he would not wake up A. But the silly cat kept returning to the same spot until I thought that the squirrels had found their way back into the house (that's a pest story for another time). I even stood at the top of the stairs in the dark for about five minutes, trying to listen for any squirrel-like sounds. No luck.

I finally had enough of Spenser's behavior and decided to get him moving along. I flipped on the light at the top of the stairs in the upstairs hall and then saw the object of Spenser's attention: at the top of the wall was a cockroach, about an inch and a half long (body length only - legs and antennas made it even longer). It was located just above where I had stood for my five minute listen session and it was Very. Much. Alive.

Great. I armed myself with the rod from the towel bar I had broken earlier in the evening (again, a story for another time) and one of J's shoes - no way was I going to use one of MY shoes! I poked at the cockroach with the rod, trying to stay at an angle from the beast should it fall straight down. It took several jabs before it fell to the floor and ran straight at Spenser. So much for my fearless burly cat - he turned tail, literally, and ran down the stairs. I chased the cockroach and pounded it with J's shoes until it was Very. Much. Dead.

Sometimes a queen must do the work of a knight. But did I mention that the pest control service will be here on Friday for our quarterly treatment and will be spraying inside?

Baseball has been very good to me

If not already evident, I am wild about baseball. I adore the crack of the bat, the roar of the crowd and all the zillion different traditions of teams and stadiums throughout North America. There is no falling on the ball to run out the clock, there is no ditching of the ball, there is no onside kick; every out is played at its own pace.

One of the things we miss most about North Carolina is the Durham Bulls. Each summer, we usually bought an eight-game package and spent many hot summer nights at the Durham Bulls Athletic Park (DBAP), which has to be one of the nicest minor league ballparks in the country. Minor league baseball is, admittedly, an entirely different species than major league ball but on most days, I prefer it. The players are still humble and hardworking, the seats are close to the field, the tickets are economical, and the people watching is spectacular.

And the DBAP is just where it should be, in the heart of downtown Durham. The modest Durham skyline is visible from the seats and the trains that chug through the city just beyond the outfield always sound their whistles and disrupt the game. The food at the DBAP is great and I always started every game with a burrito from the Flying Burrito, washed down with a cold beer. There are many other tasty treats available but that was always my absolute favorite. And it wasn't a great burrito unless I ended up wearing part of it!

Out here in Green Acres, there are no minor league baseball teams within an easy drive. And, there is no way in hell that I am going to see the Atlanta Braves - 1) too expensive and 2) can't abide the Braves. So we have been missing our minor league baseball in a big, big way.

When we visited my mother in Knoxville in late July, J and I went to see the Tennessee Smokies, the AA minor league baseball team out in Sevierville. What a cute little ballpark, and "little" is the operative word. It was Natural Gas night and I was almost sorry that A had stayed home with Mom since he could be their poster boy (except the poster would be blown off the wall - the child is toxic sometimes). We had great seats in the second row behind home plate and had an excellent time, drinking beer and people watching.

Unfortunately, the food at that park is not even close to the great eats at the DBAP so we left hungry. Can you imagine? Leaving a ballpark hungry? Shut up! We stopped at a Krystal burger on the way back to Mom's house and let me tell you, that is a great place late at night when you have a slight beer buzz - everything is funny instead of scary. And believe me, in the clear light of day and stone sober, the sights would have scared me speechless.

So we had a fun outing to the ballpark but it didn't even remotely compare to our beloved Durham Bulls. Sigh.