Sweet Suite Airhogs

Summer interlude from my plethora of July book reviews. This is the seventh inning stretch from serious blogging, and a night out in the Grand Prairie Entertainment District. Sounds fancy and actually it's quite pleasant. Nestled between Lone Star Park (horse races) and Verizon Music Hall, is the Quik Trip Park for Airhogs Baseball. My husband, Ray, is a sports guy and we got a hook-up for a suite. Sweet! The best of both worlds - crowd noise and heat, then step inside to cool air. No Saturday night square dancing, scrabble, or squash for us. Hot date on a hot night - summer baseball.

The mascot arrives in fine style.

Cotton candy dreams - let's spin a tale from my youth. If you wanted to learn how to bat or play catch at the Crowther household, you called out ,"Mom." This was an equal opportunity home. Sports - mom. Spell check, essay re-writes, or a poster board - dad. Here's a quote from my brother, "Never wanted Dad to play catch, because I'd have to wear a color coordinated outfit and not get dirty." He exaggerates ... a bit. My sister's memory, "Dad was inside reading the paper, unless a wiffle ball hit a car. Then he'd appear and give a disapproving "Heyyyy" with pursed lips." She captured the image perfectly. I think David played Little League one year. He wasn't much for team sports. Can't speak for Lori, but I was usually last picked for a neighborhood game. Aah - memories.

The Airhog boys are 0 -12 now. Won't be called up anytime soon for the big show. Nonetheless, I'm sure they have fun and are living their dream. Crowds cheer, root, jeer, and order another beer. The night ends with some fireworks - great view from our suite, and actually there's a breeze at 10:30 pm. Another HOT Saturday night - genre - sports and romance. What a pair!

Home - a writer's dilemma

They say you can't go home again, but that's far from the truth for me. I'm lucky - I don't have angst from my childhood. Perhaps my writing suffers, but while I live in Texas, this is still "home". I grew up here. My Dad putters (sadly my mother is gone) and while he's modernized his decor, the place is a step back in time. There's still a rotary phone hanging on the kitchen wall. We sit at the kitchen table for hours, laugh, do the NY Times crossword puzzle, and move from meal to meal. It's awesome! (Yes, I'm using an exclamation mark)

Huge oak trees guard the neighborhood. They tower over the two story homes, reign down acorns, and are squirrel paradise. No leaves yet. It's been a late spring and a darn cold Easter - awoke to 37 degrees. Brr. However, once the leaves arrive, there's plenty to rake in the fall.

Crazy rhododendron forest. When these bloom, it's fabulous. I've got a friend here in Texas (Linda T.) who's berserk for this flower. She's researched it and it just won't happen in this climate. Be content with your azaleas in Flower Mound, TX, Linda.

No fences. Merely a forsythia bower separates property. Truly glorious. How can you not smile at the splash of yellow?

Finally, this picture does not do justice to history. Old stone bridge. Old historic mill. I grew up amidst Revolutionary era buildings - we're talking late 1700s here. There's a Quaker meeting house nearby. No doubt George Washington slept somewhere in the vicinity. Look up the William Penn Inn, folks. Anyway, I've lived more than half my life in Texas (how can that be?), but I've got Philly (suburb) soul. (Cue an old Hall & Oates album - yes, I love them. Oates graduated from my high school.) No wonder my writing is skewed.

Joanne