Ice Bags

Monday, April 6, 2015

Today I am grateful for ice bags. Yeah, ice bags. We had a great time at our son’s house yesterday for Easter. There was not a huge crowd, but there was enough food for them in case they showed up.

With the sun finally shinning, the temperature warm by this winter’s standards and no rain at all, we played outside. My husband played HORSE with Isabella and I played catch with a baseball with Donovan and his dad, my son, Patrick/Packy.

I sort of interloped on their system by catching the ball without a glove. Yes, I did it just fine, but a baseball is very hard, so Dono went to get me his mom’s glove. I like the way that sounds. Every mom should have a baseball glove. After about ten minutes Dono wandered over to the HORSE game at the basketball net in the driveway, leaving Patrick and me to play catch alone.

Talk about a time warp. “Boy, this takes me back, Packy! I love playing catch. Remember how we used to always play catch? I wonder how many times we’ve done this in our lives.” It didn’t cost a dime so we played catch a lot as he was growing up, just like I did with my dad when I was younger, even as he got old. My dad liked catch, too.

I’d like to say the sun was in my eyes. It wasn’t. I’d like to say I tripped. I didn’t. I’d like to say it wasn’t on purpose. Ha-ha. We’ll never be sure. He threw what he calls a lob and I call a 95-mile-an-hour-line-drive. He says it tipped off my glove. I say I had the glove up and saw it come right past. It nailed me right between the eyeballs! BAM!

Baseballs are hard! So are foreheads! I didn’t go down, but the pain was bad enough that I could have. But then I’d have had to further embarrass myself trying to get up. It smarted. Ouch! Packy felt awful. . .I think. . .at least he didn’t immediately go over and get in the HORSE game. He waited until after following me into the house for ice. Hey, I have boys. That’s just how it is. I walked in the door and his wife, Karen, said, “Oh my GOD! You really got nailed! Let me get you some ice!” That’s why you marry-off your sons. To gain some balance. Thank you, Karen.

So today I’m having difficulty raising my eyebrows which apparently I do more than I thought I did. The skin on my face moves about as much as a refuses-to-age actress’ does. It feels like my forehead is shrink-wrapped with saran wrap. Not a wrinkle in sight. Botox by baseball! Maybe I’ll set a trend. I’m a little proud of my forehead-Easter-egg. Hey, I got it from playing catch. . .not falling out of the recliner! I am on the temporarily disabled list so I won’t be pitching for the Phillies home opener today. . .and I am grateful for ice bags.

4y’d