In honor of baseball’s Opening Day, I would like to reflect on the dream of every boy, appearing on a baseball card. Take for instance, new Minnesota Twins pitcher Blake Parker’s card.

It includes stats, plus some fun facts like how he used to sleep in the Angels Stadium parking lot.

Um, sorry. I got dreams confused with nightmares. Sorry about that. Play ball!

Waiting for my son to leave track practice, I grabbed the newspaper from the passenger seat. I turned Sports Talk on the radio. Tomorrow was Opening Day and baseball news filled the air. I smiled.

A few minutes later, my teenage son arrived at the car. Entering, he had a startling observation. “Dad, no kidding, but you looked so old sitting there. Reading the paper, listening to baseball on the radio, sitting in your old car. You’re even squinting.”

I was about to defend myself. Things like, “Hey, my car is from this century,” and stuff like that, but I resisted. Why bother? Did it really matter that I looked old? I was happy. Opening Day was tomorrow. Spring was almost at hand. Age didn’t seem to matter much. Besides, most of the Sports Section still waited for my wanting eyes, no matter their degree of squint.

There were no balloons. No marching band. No ticker tape parade. No celebration of any sort.

Let’s be clear about one thing, however. After one call to the company, lots of online research, a trip to Menard’s, an order placed with Amazon, some $70 plus, lots of luck, no apparent skill, and against all odds, this guy (aka me) just fixed the kitchen sink!

Now, my friend, if anything deserves a celebration, that’s it.

Let me tell you about today.

I put on a comfy red sweater and you know what? It was still a little damp. Ugh.

On the drive to work, my travel mug was keeping my coffee to darn hot to drink. Whoa is me.

On top of that, I had a chunk of almond from my breakfast stuck in my teeth. Coffee would have helped loosen that, if only my coffee was not too hot. How long must I suffer?

Then get this, the beef jerky that I purchased from the vending machine got stuck. Left hanging there, teasing me. Plus, the machine wouldn’t take my $5 bill, in order to purchase the beef product behind it and release the first package. Ahhhhhhhh, the agony.

Yep, my well dressed, well fed, car driving, high quality travel mug in hand, with $5 remaining life is certainly difficult, this I know.

BAKED OATMEAL

“Start your day in a heart healthy way. Bake those oats and gobble up those berries. This breakfast will warm your tummy and satisfy your taste buds. Enjoy!”

Baked Oatmeal Ingredients

3 cups Quick Cooking Oats

1 cup Sugar

1 cup Milk

1/2 cup Butter

2 Eggs

2 teaspoons Baking Powder

1 1/2 teaspoons Salt

2 teaspoons Vanilla Extract

1 1/2 cups Frozen Blueberries

Optional Toppings

Brown Sugar

Milk

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Melt the butter in a microwave.

Stir together the oats, sugar, milk, melted butter, eggs, baking powder, salt, and vanilla extract.

Stir in the frozen blueberries.

Spread the mixture in a greased 13″ x 9″ pan.

Baked for 35 minutes until the edges have browned and the middle is set.

Place servings in bowls and mix in desired toppings.

Makes about 7 servings.

Revised Source – “Amish Baked Oatmeal” by Colleen Butler of Inwood, West Virginia, on an old recipe card in our old recipe box.

Rejoice and smile for light has defeated darkness, the sun has defeated snow, and the grill has come out from hiding.

‘Tis Grill Season, rejoice!

“Lovable and Meaty”

Made for lovers

you bring the meat

but fit on more

would be a treat

Sitting at the church dinner, the announcement was made, “We have more grilled cheese sandwiches for anyone that is still hungry.”

I looked down at my empty plate. Yep, I was still hungry, but I wasn’t going to be “Seconds Guy.” Nope, I would resist the temptation, plus I had a backup plan.

My son, Sam. Sam was my backup plan. Sitting with his buddies, I could see that he had made only minimal progress on his soup and sandwich. Plus, in three minutes, he would need to help serve as a greeter with his confirmation class. Yes, in three minutes, Sam’s remaining soup and sandwich would be mine.

I patiently waited, but much to my horror, Sam scarfed down all of the sandwich except for the crust. 180 seconds and half of my second meal was no more.

I caught Sam on the way to the trash can. Oh, that crust and remaining tomato soup would be mine.

As Sam pranced off, I began savoring my newly acquired scraps. Life was good, as I dunked the crust into the soup. I smiled. I was not beyond such plate cleaning. I was okay with it. My tummy smiled, too.

Then from nowhere, Sam appeared. He had come back for his food. At first shocked that I was eating his food (remember, it appeared as if he was going to throw it away), he then claimed the remaining bowl of soup. Afraid that I would snatch it back from his hands (I thought about it), Sam proceeded to guzzle the soup. None remained. Sam pranced off again.

My tummy frowned. The soup was gone. My soul was sad. From this day forward, my son would most likely live in fear of having his father steal food from him. Somehow, my face still smiled. Smiled, because somehow this was the way it should be. A boy scarfs down food and a father yearns for the scraps. It was the way it should be, I was playing my role, and I was okay with that.

How do you know when you are in Minnesota? The only sign that brownies once existed in the breakroom is an inexplicably small brownie nugget that has been left behind.

Really people, it’s okay to eat the last piece. I promise, it’ll be fine.

I was really bragging it up at the office. I had some new Tony the Tiger socks. They were awesome and I promised to wear them the next day.

Only one problem, I forgot. I forgot and wore my popcorn socks, instead. Not unfun, but certainly not new.

Well, don’t worry. The socks will come out tomorrow and they’re going to be grrreat!