I've always viewed baseball as a rather wimpy sport. Players stand around the field, or sit in the dugout until it's their turn to bat, at which point they have about a 1 in 3 chance of even reaching first base. No one but the pitcher even works up a sweat, right?
I gained a little more respect for ballplayers today. When I originally heard that local wards were organizing coed softball games, I didn't pay much attention because I have minimal athletic skills (to put it kindly). Then my neighbor Jessica told me that the rules require a girl to bat every other time, and there were so few females on our ward's team last week that she had to bat multiple times each inning. She made it sound like our team needed women. Any women. Even uncoordinated women who haven't played since junior high (i.e. me). So this morning Phillip and I donned tennis shoes and baseball hats, then sallied forth to ye baseball diamond.
Today's game actually went better than I expected. I learned it's ten times easier to catch a softball with a glove than without (who knew?), and I managed to not strike out any of the TEN ZILLION (OK, more like twelve) times I went up to bat. Jessica is out of town this week, so Lisa Larsen and I took turns batting between the male players. Once I crossed home plate just in time to pick up a bat and face off with the pitcher again. Exhausting but fun.
Of course, I don't want to keep all these good times to myself. So all you female readers (and any males who feel so inclined), PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE come join us next Saturday. No skills or experience needed - Lisa and I hadn't played in fifteen years (that's each, not total).
Incidentally, I forgot to have Phillip snap a picture of me at bat (perhaps next week), but here are a few shots of the best-looking player on our team:
Joy hadn't seen Uncle Andrew in several months (he was doing an internship in Kenya), but she warmed up to him immediately when he offered her the car key.
She was also impressed by his phat wakeboarding skills.
Speaking of talent, Baby's favorite trick these days is to stick her tongue out the side of her mouth. Under Joy's careful tutelage, Aunt Heather has also acquired this skill.
Now, now--sit down and stop all that shouting. Joy's not quite crawling yet, but she has figured out how to get up on all fours and flop forward a bit. Needless to say, her parents were duly impressed.
Joy is definitely getting the hang of that splashing thing.
A phenomenon known as "Bed Head."
Don't worry, Baby - you can always wear a hat.
Uncle John may be wondering at this point whether he actually ever knew his nephew James.
I always said she'd be asking for the keys before we knew it.
She's hiding she's hiding and no one knows where . . .
Cousin Emily and her son Andrew are in town, and they joined us for dinner at my parents' home yesterday. Baby Andrew is only a few months older than Joy, but he's about twice as big (sorry - the picture doesn't show that well). His daddy's friends call him "Tank."
The other Andrew (my brother) returned from Kenya last week. Here he and the other menfolk discuss weighty matters (like the 20 pounds Andrew left behind in Africa - he says they eat healthier food and smaller portions there).
Joy enjoyed a dance with Daddy . . .
. . . and over by the DJ we had the Dance of the Sugarplum Fairies, including . . .
She's getting the hang of the "tripod" position . . .
. . . but most of the time she still ends up in the "fallen log" position before Mama can get to the camera.
