No Writing, Just Rooting

The family went to the Rockies-Diamondbacks game tonight, then watched fireworks after the show. I always enjoy watching my two favorite baseball teams duke it out at Coors Field, and this is the last chance we had to do so this season. The stadium staff passed out funky polarized prism glasses to use during the fireworks show, and they were fun for a while, but I eventually took them off to enjoy the pyrotechnic beauty of the show. We’ve had enough rain recently that I didn’t feel guilty about participating in a fireworks show; besides, there isn’t much in the way of grass or other flammable natural materials in the parking lot behind Coors Field, so I probably shouldn’t worry about it anyway.

Oh, yeah. The Rockies won. Again.

Rockies vs. Expos

I was given two free tickets to the Rockies/Expos game at Coors Field today, which the Rockies won 8-6. Helton played very well, hitting a homer and making a couple of clutch defensive plays. My son and I pigged out on Rockie Dogs with kraut, nachos, pizza, and sodas. I figure I gained about 5 pounds in exchange for my monetary sacrifice to the gods of concession.

With the looming strike, that’s likely to be our last game this year. We have September tickets for a fireworks game against my second favorite team, the World Champion Arizona Diamondbacks, but we will probably have to take them in for a refund.

I got notification today that my friend Chuck Anderson, a Denver writer and school teacher, has published a story at Grim Opus. Congratulations, Chuck! You’re an inspiration to us all. (Well, to me, anyway.)

Come home, Son

The Rockies beat the Cubbies 2-0 last night, and I finished painting the stairwell in its entirety this morning. Did I mention that I hate painting?

In the early evening, I went to the airport to pick up my son, who had spent the last four weeks with his Mom in Texas. I’m very glad to have him, and eternally guilt-ridden that he has to split his time between his parents because we couldn’t make it as a couple. It’s not his fault; if anybody’s, it’s mine, because I’m the one who asked for the divorce. But he’s the one suffering. I tell myself that he would be suffering more if we were together, though. I think that’s true …

While eating a late dinner at Gunther Toody’s, I got a phone call from Brad the Drummer, giving me a heads up that John from Dante Spumante was going to be calling me in the morning to see if I would be able to play with them on Tuesday night at Cricket on the Hill in Denver. I haven’t played much since we started working on the house, so I dug out the guitar and played along with the CD of our performance at Herman’s Hideaway on July 23rd. I hope John actually does call tomorrow.

Southern Cross and Primer

We worked more on the house last night; the upstairs hallway (and all seven doors in it) are now painted and my wife primered (?) over some stenciled roses in the bedroom. Tonight we’re going to a Colorado Rockies game, so we won’t get any painting done. But tomorrow, while she’s at work, I will try to get the stairwell painted. I read more of Sophie’s World last night, and I also got a couple of books in the mail that I’ve been looking forward to for quite a while. Where the Southern Cross the Dog (Fairwood Press) and Veil of the Soul (Yard Dog Press) are chapbooks by Trey Barker, a writer-stagehand-musician-former radio personality-funny guy in Illinois. I’m especially looking forward to Where the Southern Cross the Dog, because the stories in it are inspired by Mississippi Delta Blues. When I complete each, I will post a review on this site.