Author: Tammy

Are You a Leftie or Not?

In case you haven’t noticed, Baseball season is upon us.  While watching the Indians game last night with hubby, I thought of an occurrence back in the day that “Tickled” me – then just turned me into a laughing fool as I tried to retell it to him.


Back in my late teens/early twenties, my girlfriend asked me to join her softball team as they needed more players.  I thought, “yeah, why not? That sounds like fun!”  And so I did.


I had never played on an organized and somewhat “official” team other than in gym class, so I would be considered a rookie.  A rather wet-behind-the-ears rookie at that.


Our coaches, Mr. B and Woody, were the most gentle, helpful and extremely patient coaches I think I have ever met or seen.  Of course, they probably needed to be so with a team of estrogen like ours!


Now, let’s be honest here.  I am a competitive type, but I have to admit that I only joined for the fun.  I’m always a party ready to happen. And truth be told, I wasn’t “in it to win it”! The other thing you need to know is that I am right handed.  Just sayin’!


We went through a few weeks of practices.  We did drills on catching, batting, trying everyone new out in positions to see where the right fit was.  Some were seasoned players and they knew where they would be.  The rest of us needed to be figured out.  I, personally, was looking for where I could find the most conversation!  HaHa  Needless to say, when they put me in Left Field the first game or two, I quickly told them it was not a good fit.  I mean, c’mon, do you ever see much fun happening out there?


I found a new home at Home Plate.  I became the Catcher.  Mr. B. decided to try me out there.  I liked it.  Except when we had the grumpy ol’ umpire that didn’t want to know what my day was like, geesh!


We were doing okay as far as wins/losses.  Weren’t the number one team, but weren’t the last place team either.  Then came the day when we had an away game.  We went out for some warm-ups, did some catching from the coaches and got ready to play.  


Then it’s my turn for my first “at bat”.


I walked up to the plate and stood to the right of the umpire and catcher.  All at once I hear my coach yell my name and I turned around.  Mr. B is shrugging his shoulders and has his hands up in the air.  I yelled back,  “isn’t it my turn?”


I turned back around and heard my team mates yelling, so I turned back to the bench again.  They were all waving their hands in a gesture that I translated to mean – hit it way out there. I wave back and yelled, “I got it!”


The umpire grumbles, “you ready?”


I said, “yep, let’s go!”


The pitcher pitched the ball and I hit it way out into center field.  I flung my bat and took off for first base.  I’m safe.  I looked back at the bench thinking they will be excited for me and they are all laughing and shaking their heads.  Both coaches are just smiling and shaking their heads as well.  Of course, I’m wanting to walk over and find out what’s so funny, but I have to wait.  And wait…


Next girl up, sent it over the fence and off I went.  She made it to third, I crossed home plate.


Huffing and puffing as I got to the bench, then Mr. B came over to me and said, “tell me, what hand do you write with? Are you a leftie?”


I replied, “no, I write with my right hand, why?”


At this point, he threw his hands in the air, threw his head back and laughed.  I looked over at the other coach, Woody, and he had his hand over his eyes, with his head down and is shaking his head.


I looked at the girls on the bench and they were all laughing.  I have now gotten ticked because nobody is letting me on this little joke.  I yelled, “what the heck is everybody laughing at?”  


Mr. B finally composes and said, “why did you walk up to that side of the plate?”


I replied, “what do you mean that side of the plate?”


Mr. B said, “if you are right handed, why did you walk up to that side of home plate?”


I looked at the bench and they are dying.  I looked back at the coaches and said in all seriousness, “well, when I walk over to home plate from the bench, I always walk right up to home plate, stand there and wait for a pitch.  That’s what I did today, what’s wrong with that?”


Well, everyone caught the problem but me!  Mr. B shook his head again and says, “well, if that works for you, just keep doing it!”  Then walked away shaking his head.


I finally am frustrated enough and asked coach Woody, “I’m not catching this, what was the problem?”


Woody, with the straightest face he could said, “well, this is the first game we have been on this side of home plate and you walked up to the plate and batted left handed.”


I pondered this enlightenment a moment, and then replied, “Oh.”


I have to say that when I got up for my second at bat, the pitcher was confused as all get out as I went to the correct side of home plate for a right handed batter.  She looked over at her coach as he checked his book, looked at me, looked at the book and just shook his head.


Yeah, I hit that ball that was pitched to me, too.


And made it to second base.


So there.


…and that’s all I have to say about that.


Tammy

Must I Drop Food On My Shirt All The Time?

Seriously.  Come on.  It seems like every time I eat lately, I spill something down the middle of my shirt.  It became a joke when I was pregnant a very long time ago, that no matter what I was eating, the very last bite I would always spill onto my shirt.  Every. Stinkin’. Time.

Then the dripping went away.  But, it has returned.

And NO, I am not with child again!

Recently, hubby and I were out to eat and it happened again.  The very last bite of my noodles I spilled down the front of my shirt.  I laughed and said, I think I’m going to start buying only patterned shirts so this won’t show.  One way to fix it would be to not eat, but that would not be something I could do for very long for oh so many reasons!

One time we were reminiscing about how I spilled food on my shirts when I was pregnant.  We started laughing about how many of my maternity shirts had little spots on the center of the front of the shirt.  I guess it was a good thing I didn’t have a second child, as I would have had to have all new shirts again!

Then I remembered a story an old friend had told me about spilling down the front of her shirt at a restaurant and it made me crack up.  I so would have liked to have witnessed it, but picturing it was quite funny as well.

My friend and her family were eating at a local burger joint in our area known for a good greasy burger.  (Is that actually an oxymoron?) They were all enjoying their lunch after church.  My friend made a point to tell me that she had on a beautiful new, expensive white silk blouse that she was wearing for the first time.

Then it happened.

She dribbled a little grease right in the center of her “girls”.  Yep – right smack dab in the front and center of the shirt.  No way it could be covered with anything.  She tried to wipe it off, but it only made the spot bigger.

She said she just ignored it and went on to finish her lunch as they had all just gotten started.

Then it happened.  Again.

This time, a little ketchup dribbled right near the grease spot.  Not on it, but just to the side so that it was obvious it was a different spot.  She became frustrated.  Her husband just told her not to worry about it and finish her lunch, he would walk in front of her going out of the restaurant and nobody would see the spots.

Then it happened.  Again!

At this point, she became so ticked off after only four bites of her burger that what she did next must have been priceless to be sitting in the restaurant and watch a grown woman do this.

She removed the top bun of the burger and began to smear the burger and it’s toppings all over her brand-new, white silk blouse!  She said she used both hands to take both halves of the burger and smear it all over her chest.  I mean, can you imagine seeing some lady do this in a restaurant?  Of course this just tickled me as I pictured her madder than a hornet and smearing the burger all over herself in a fit of rage.

When she had finished, she threw the food to the plate and asked if everyone else was finished as she believed it was time to go.  Her family was so in shock, she said her two young daughters shook their heads and quit eating and promptly got up and headed for the door.  Her hubby hung his head as he paid the bill and joined them at the car.

There was no way I could stop laughing at what this might have looked like to watch.  I can’t help but to think about this often when I start dripping food on my shirt.

So, if we should ever be eating together and I drip something on my shirt, please hold me back from picking up my food and smearing it all over myself, okay?

…and that’s all I have to say about that!

Do you have a funny food issue to share?  Please share with all of us here, we’d love the laugh!

Tammy

Yep – You Could Say I Am Ornery!

This past weekend, I got to spend a full day with my quilting friends I haven’t seen for a long time.  The guild meeting night is the same night as one of my hubby’s office hours.  He’s a Licensed Massage Therapist – and I work for him.

The weekend was the quild’s annual Quilting Getaway.  We always go away to Amish Country here in Ohio about an hour’s drive from where we live.  When the hubby was in school for his “second half of life career”, my quilt group let him come down to get clinical hours.  They loved it so much that he has become a regular for this yearly event.  Trouble has it, they usually ask if he’s coming this year before they ask if I am!  No worries, I think I’m still welcome…as long as I bring him along!

Seeing everyone this weekend reminded me of a getaway a few years back which made me laugh.  A quilter who had been in the guild years before had come along to sew with us this particular getaway.  This quilter is a fabulous quilter and very meticulous in her work.  I’m always in awe of her color choice, perfect corners and the overall look of her quilts when she is finished.  As if her work isn’t superb enough, she always has another one of my quilting friends do the actual machine quilting when she is done.  The machine quilter is also phenomenal.  So, you put these two together on a quilt and WOW! (By the way, hello to this machine quilter who pops in here on occasion!)

Back to that weekend.  My quilty friend was placing her 1/2 square triangles on her flannel wall to be able to see her work as she built it.  She would diligently sew, then place a few blocks on her board, back to sew, etc.

Well, she made the mistake of going out to grab a little dinner with some of the other girls.

As a fellow quilter, I will tell you that with the amount of work she does on her pieces, I’m not about to totally re-arrange them or anything that drastic.  But let’s just say I “blinged out” her quilt.  Just a little!

Most of the crew was gone, so I only had a few witnesses.  I had bought some really wild black and white swirly fabric and decided I was going to find a spot to add to her beauty! Nobody had actually seen my fabric, so it wasn’t going to be easy for her to figure it out quickly.  Those of us who were there were betting on how long it would take her to find the little 1/2 square triangle in the mass of triangles that were already on the flannel board.

I took down a block and traced with a piece of paper, the exact size of fabric I would need for the spot I wanted.  Then I cut it out and found a spot that had not been sewn together yet and replaced the triangle.  Her fabrics were darks, so it didn’t really stand out too much.  It did look like it was sewn into the row, though. Hehehehe

All of the girls started to return and we all got back to working and yakking!  Nobody said a word about our friend’s misplaced triangle.

She started sewing away.  Once she had sewn a whole row together, she got up and placed it on her flannel board.  Once she placed it up there, she stood back and was looking at how she placed her colors in relation to the other rows. All of us that had stayed back were watching her out of the corners of our eyes.  Nobody said anything.  Others around us, though, started noticing us watching and started whispering, “what’s everybody watching her for?”

All of a sudden she walked up to her quilt on the wall and zeroed in on the lone black and white swirly triangle and yanked it off!  She then looked around the room, but nobody spoke or broke a smile.  She just eyed us all up, then looked back at me and said, “I bet YOU did this!”

Then the entire room busted out laughing.  This quilter is so meticulous about her quilting like I said, that everyone figured I had just given her a heart attack that her quilt was out of sorts!

No worries though, we are still friends.  She forgave me, but threatened that she would be watching me and her quilt the rest of the weekend!  She did admit that when she finally caught what was wrong, she thought for sure that someone had actually taken her block apart and sewn that triangle into it.  Then she
realized that she hadn’t connected the row entirely yet, so her pulse slowed back down!

The moral of the story here, always watch your work, no matter what it is, if you leave it out while you leave the room.  Or is the moral – always watch your work when ornery Tammy is around?

…and that’s all I have to say about that!

Tammy