A hot day at the ballpark

Excerpted from North of Grand: Detective Red Shaw Novel #2
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Shaw tried to remember the last time he’d been on a date. Way back, right after he met Sally. He hoped this one wouldn’t be as awkward. They’d arranged to meet at the west end of a pedestrian bridge over the river, just a short walk from the police station. He could see her approach from a distance, sporting a close-fitting white top and shorts. She was dressed for the heat and hard to miss. Her light brown curls were tied back and topped with a Cubs visor. A Cubs-blue bag hung from her shoulder.

Baseball image with quote from page text: “Baseball,” she said, looking him in the eye, deadpan serious, “is a metaphor.”

“Hi, Red,” she said as she gave his hand a little squeeze. “Are you ready for some baseball?”

“You bet” was the best he could do. If her V-neck were any deeper, he wouldn’t have been able to speak at all. He took in her smile, her green eyes, and tried to relax. He tried to ignore the sweat trickling down his back and wished he hadn’t worn blue jeans. They followed the walkway south along the river.

“I played here once,” Shaw said as they approached the stadium.

“Really?”

“Well, not here, exactly, but in the old stadium. Same spot. This is nicer.”

They stopped to buy tickets. Not many seats were left for a hot summer night and they small-talked as the line crept along.

“So you were in Triple A?”

Continue reading “A hot day at the ballpark”

View from Lykins Gulch

Like a dog waiting

So Mrs. Smith is away for a few days again, meaning there will be a lot of whining and moping and waiting by the door, feeling sorry for…

The dog, I mean. The dog.

Waiting…

Red Dog Smith feels sorry for himself when she’s not around. He doesn’t handle this well.

It’s inevitable

Silence of the Elms

Our power-mad HOA slaughtered several trees this week. I was home to hear the last of them fall to the fearsome teeth of the chainsaw.

I heard the roar of the chipper shredding life itself into mulch.

Now all is quiet.

‘Toady’ on my mind today

Somewhere between 1.37 and 1.79 miles on my post-workday walk* on a treadmill at the gym today a favorite old word came to mind. I was watching CNN on a screen just off to my left – Fox News being a few monitors over to my right, of course – when it happened.

Image by Егор Камелев from Pixabay

“Toady,” my brain said. I can’t say for sure if this was triggered by the sight of Rick Santorum or Lindsey Graham, but they both appeared on the screen just minutes apart.

Unsure if either of them met the actual definition of the word, I looked it up when I got home. Among other things, I’d decided I absolutely have to use toady correctly in a poem that is beginning to take lumpy shape in my brain.

Here’s what I found.

What surprisingly fond amphibiotic memories came rushing back!

…the toad hotel my siblings and I built from corrugated boxes on the banks of the Little Cedar River, which flowed gently just behind our childhood home in Mitchell County, Iowa.

…the tiny toadlets leaping for their lives, desperately trying to escape the deadly blades of my reel mower in the big back yard in Cedar Rapids.

…the lovely toad sculpture that lives on my desk in the basement under the watchful eyes of a Milton B. Davis carving of a Golden Eagle.

Toads. You gotta love ’em, warts and all. Toadies, not so much.


* A brisk 3.2 mph on a steadily increasing grade, prelude to semi-vigorous and repeated lifting of weights.

Accidental trip to that time in-between

Speaking of being preserved on the internet (or writing about it as I was on Friday), I stumbled across my old blog, puncture proof, this morning.

It had something to do with bicycle tires and opinions about various stuff.

The last thing I posted there still pointed to a Tumblr blog that I no longer have, so of course I felt compelled to update it to point to the one you’re reading now. This other page caught my eye and took me even farther back in time and memory and I found myself obligated to fix a mistake I made there, too.

I’m supposed to be writing something else at the moment, so I won’t dwell on this for long, but seeing myself in that in-between state left me feeling pretty good about where my wife and I are now. Both of us have had two feet and all of our bicycles in Colorado for quite a while now.

Some other pieces of us, however, are still back in Iowa and probably always will be.

B.J.