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Capricious zephyrs
Sunday afternoon was a heavenly marriage of grilled encased meats, sugar-laced Mexican soda, and high-seasonesque high-hitting baseball drama. Nuphy had me and ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bunj down to his townhome for Cubs vs. Cards in high def on his ridiculously large t.v. and we took it upon ourselves to save him from yet another ordered-in meal. When the invitation first came, I immediately asked "Can we grill?" He reluctantly agreed. Come Sunday morning, he was trying to backtrack, but we held firm. bunj, as honorary straight male, did the honours on our thueringers and knockwurst.
It turned out to be the best game of the series: No wonky calls like on Friday, no ignonimous blowout like on Saturday, just warm weather and spirited winds which carried anything they could over the bleachers and onto Waveland. The score was 4-4 in the 4th, 7-7 in the 7th, and 9-9 in the 9th; whenever one team would drive home a few runs, the other would follow suit. (Until the 10th, that is, when the Cubs had no answer to Pujols' three-run homer.) The game was almost over in the bottom of the 9th when Eckstein inexplicably failed to complete a double play. (He later explained that the runner had blocked his view of Pujols, something that wasn't at all clear from behind home plate.)
Psychologically, I guess, we didn't want to leave, since we all three managed to fail to disarm the door lock when we went up to the roof for a brief view of the skyline. The trickster breezes blew the door shut and Nuphy was horrified to realise that he'd left his keys in his other pants. It turned out to be no big deal--bunj and I took the fire escape down, pried off one of the screens on the ground floor (in full view of numerous passers-by, none of whom said anything), and let ourselves in--but it was fun for a while to speculate about how to get up onto the rear balcony and listen to Nuphy desperately trying to convince Rubeus to drive down from Evanston with the spare key he insists he doesn't have.
bunj down to his townhome for Cubs vs. Cards in high def on his ridiculously large t.v. and we took it upon ourselves to save him from yet another ordered-in meal. When the invitation first came, I immediately asked "Can we grill?" He reluctantly agreed. Come Sunday morning, he was trying to backtrack, but we held firm. bunj, as honorary straight male, did the honours on our thueringers and knockwurst.It turned out to be the best game of the series: No wonky calls like on Friday, no ignonimous blowout like on Saturday, just warm weather and spirited winds which carried anything they could over the bleachers and onto Waveland. The score was 4-4 in the 4th, 7-7 in the 7th, and 9-9 in the 9th; whenever one team would drive home a few runs, the other would follow suit. (Until the 10th, that is, when the Cubs had no answer to Pujols' three-run homer.) The game was almost over in the bottom of the 9th when Eckstein inexplicably failed to complete a double play. (He later explained that the runner had blocked his view of Pujols, something that wasn't at all clear from behind home plate.)
Psychologically, I guess, we didn't want to leave, since we all three managed to fail to disarm the door lock when we went up to the roof for a brief view of the skyline. The trickster breezes blew the door shut and Nuphy was horrified to realise that he'd left his keys in his other pants. It turned out to be no big deal--
bunj and I took the fire escape down, pried off one of the screens on the ground floor (in full view of numerous passers-by, none of whom said anything), and let ourselves in--but it was fun for a while to speculate about how to get up onto the rear balcony and listen to Nuphy desperately trying to convince Rubeus to drive down from Evanston with the spare key he insists he doesn't have.