Drum Roll Please......

.....And the winner is.....

(Oh boy do I feel the pressure to make this as good as you think it's going to be.)

OK, so officially the winner is The Cracks Begin To Show. However, my extremely clever daughter suggested I combine all stories into one and call it Baseball Begins to Show a Full Dancing Queen. So that is just what I am going to do. Enjoy!

There's a new team in town. The Lake Erie Crushers. They are not a minor league farm team. No, they are part of the Frontier League, something somebody somewhere thought up. But their new "stadium" is in Avon, and the tickets are cheap. So we decided to take the kids (and Grandma and Grandpa) out to the ball game for Family Home Evening. And Dollar Dog Night.

As far as made-up-league ball games go, it was pretty fun. We were intrigued by the astro turf, the fact that "we" were playing the Traverse City Beach Bums, and that the players have host families. (What are they, exchange students? BYU Young Ambassadors?) Andrew was convinced he was going to catch a ball (what else is new?) and almost did courtesy of his dad, but Glenn decided to not fight another young boy. The girls kept themselves occupied with Grandpa's camera. The kids got to go out on the field to sing "Take Me Out To The Ball Game" during the 7th inning stretch. Most everyone consumed dollar dogs, but nothing else, because outside food was not allowed. And all the while, there was a game being played.

I, however, had trouble focusing on the game...the main reason we were there. With no Sizemore or Hafner, my mind kind of wandered. But there was plenty going on around me, plenty to keep my attention. Like all the drunks. From the old guy two sections over who frequently stood up and started singing, to the young man with multiple multiple piercings behind us who tried to argue with the ump on a close call (and here I have to ask why? it's not like we're fighting for the pennant), to the young dad and his baby in front of us.

A young dad and his baby. I just couldn't stop watching them. His wife was there, too, and she was holding the baby most of the time, but she handed her over to a man who had been drinking. Now, I do not have one iota of personal experience with alcohol consumption and its effects on the body. But if they tell you not to get behind the wheel after just one drink, shouldn't you maybe not be holding a baby? Even if it's yours? Especially if it's yours? It is moments like these that I am so very grateful I am a teetotaler. (Now after a long summer day with all the kids all over the place...that could be another issue.)

Thursday night was the first swim meet of the summer. Emma and Leah each swam four events (50M this year!). It was a crazy, hot evening. And there was a crazy, hot mess who plopped herself down right in front of us. Now, I can typically overlook situations such as this. Turn a blind eye to fashion faux-pas and TMBI (Too Much Body Information). But I am telling you, that in this case, it was absolutely impossible to ignore. The woman was out of control. Both with her backside and out her mouth. It was very distracting, especially during those long stretches of time with no Franklin swimming.

Two Franklins swimming at the same time!

The meet was over at 8:30. Jill had left at 7:30 to fulfill her duty as chaperone at the youth conference dance. Glenn was already there, playing DJ. I was supposed to be there, too. But I had a dilemma. Four dilemmas, to be exact. Do I take them home and stick them in front of the TV? Do I put them to bed first? I was getting a little stressed out over it all, so I decided to haul us all to the church and just check in with Glenn.

And then I saw my cute little sister standing there. I shared many a church dance with one of my little sisters back in the day, but being nine years older than the other little sis, well, this was our first dance together. A little different now, though. No more moshing or running from certain individuals of the opposite gender, but comparing notes from our experiences, almost a decade apart. We got the latest gossip from the young women in the ward that she is now serving with, and we hung out by the food table munching yummy nachos. And while she and her baby bump couldn't really dance, I couldn't help myself, especially when Brooke came running over to me for "Poker Face."

So much for getting the kids home and in bed. We stayed till the very end, because at that point we had to gather up the girls that were assigned to sleep at our house for the next two nights. Six of them.

Not much trouble from these half dozen high schoolers. Except for when one would suddenly appear in my house during the day. Not merely at my house. Like at the front door. Announcing themselves with a knock. No, twice she was just all of a sudden there in the family room, silently and stealthily. This particular young lady had a flair for the dramatic. And apparently sprained her ankle so bad that it warranted a trip to the ER. And crutches. And she could put absolutely no weight on it at all, except for the times when she did (when she thought no one was looking).

Saturday morning, the girls took all their stuff with them when they went back to the church, as they would be returning to their own homes at noon. The injured girl, however, simply couldn't take her things with her, you know, being on crutches and all, so she was going to pick everything up later. In my desire to expedite the process of clearing out the house, I thought I'd put all her belongings by the front door. But this:
was the state of said belongings. I couldn't even find a duffel bag or suitcase to stuff everything in. Did she only have grocery bags to carry everything? But what about the plastic hanger, blanket and sleeping bag, and Boppy? Somehow it all made it out the door. The only evidence of our overly stuffed house was a toothbrush and a sink full of hair.

And so, faithful readers, there you have it. You made it happen. You made this whole post possible by caring enough to hear me make something out of the whole lotta nothing that happened last week.

Thank you so much for playing, and in the future, please don't make me come up with cheesy gimmicks just to get more comments!