Tag Archives: Bro

Freezing our Butts off with the Cubbies

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My first smartphone video!

Bro, his Bride, Sis, and I went to the Cubs-Cardinals game on Friday, May 2nd. Nothing beats fun at the old ball park.

Some people start “celebrating” before they even get to the game. A few young women from the neighborhood were walking to the stadium maybe 20 feet ahead of me as they drank from beer cans. There’s a restaurant across Waveland and maybe a block down the street – if that – with outdoor seating. The ladies found a trash container there and deposited their empty cans before crossing the street to enter the ball park. The server who happened to be outside at the moment didn’t say anything to them, but his expression made me think of the little Spartan boy who quietly suffered a fox to gnaw on his vitals.

You could hear the organ from at least 3 blocks away, which put also helped put people in a festive mood before the game. I know I had a spring in my step by the time I offered my purse up for inspection, collected my Red Grange bobblehead (free to the first 10,000 entrants),  and entered the friendly confines.

The thing I’ll probably remember best about “Baseball with Bro” Day had to be the temperature. The high at O’Hare that day was purportedly 52º. It never felt that warm, maybe because the wind was blowing about 20 miles an hour. I wore a turtleneck, windbreaker, hat, scarf, and gloves, but never felt remotely comfortable until Sis shared her commemorative Cubs blanket with Bride and me. Bro was too tough and manly to climb under the blanket with us.

I drank hot (okay, warm) chocolate that mostly seemed to consist of chocolate syrup and water. I make a decent cocoa recipe, which has spoiled me for what’s usually sold in sports venues. However, I was willing to overlook the lack of milk for the small amount of warmth the drink provided. None of us wanted the “ice cold beer” one of the vendors was hawking. The rest of the beer vendors were smart enough to just call it beer if it was Budweiser/Bud Light or premium beer if it was Goose Island. We also sampled a pretzel. Bro had Italian sausage. I think Bride had Giordano’s Pizza (the official pizza of Wrigley Field). I passed, mostly because I’ve lived in the area for-approximately-ever. I know from Giordano’s pizza, and it’s hard to imagine that it’s better in a ball park than it is in the restaurant. Besides, I may be a convert to Pizano’s. But that’s a whole ’nother blog post.

After the temperature, it was the music that really set the atmosphere. The first song I remember was “If They Could See Me Now,” but really, in addition to the national anthem (sung wonderfully by Wayne Messmer) and “Take Me Out To the Ball Game” (sung horribly by me, as loudly as I possibly could), the music was this wonderful stew of decades and styles, with selections that ranged from “Zorba the Greek” through recordings of recent pop and movie soundtracks to “The William Tell Overture.”

Like train stations, ball parks are prime people-watching opportunities. Bro was entertaining, and not only to us. Several other people chuckled at the colorful game commentary he provided. But it’s more interesting to watch people you will probably never see again. I especially enjoyed the woman who seated us. She was tiny, white-haired, dressed head to toe in Cubs’ garb, and carrying a portable oxygen pack. The whole time I’m thinking, “Now, this is a woman who loves her Cubbies.” What else is going to get someone to walk up and down steps, smiling (!), while schlepping oxygen the whole time? I guess they pay her, but seriously!

My next-favorite observational target sat about two rows down and to the right. He was maybe 30, if that. He dressed well: green tweed jacket, coordinating plaid wool scarf, excellent black jeans. He defined hip: not a scrap of Cubs regalia intruded on his carefully crafted ensemble. He fit right in with everyone else in his row. They all looked young, urban, and professional. He was just…more so.

Anyway, I’m writing a short story that uses this pair – or my imagination of them – as characters. If it turns out well, you may see it on this very blog.

Stay tuned.

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Getting (Left) Handy

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(Not Really Bro & Bride)

Bro and his lovely Bride are in Chicago this week. We plan to hang out together a lot. There are a few things they’d like to do while in town, but there’s only one fixed item on the agenda: we’re going to a Cubs-Cardinals game. Since Bro, Sis and I grew up (mostly) in the Chicago area, we are supposed to cheer for the Cubs. I think.

It’s complicated for a few reasons. First of all, Bro, Sis and I were born on the South side so there were many White Sox fans in the extended family. It is apparently the job of Sox fans to cheer for whatever team opposes the Cubs. Also, Bro and I both went to school in St. Louis, as did Bro’s Bride. So that’s another reason to cheer for the Cards. However, we did spend many of our formative years northwest of the city. So, re: cheering? I think I’ll see how I feel when we get there. A ballpark is not my natural habitat, which is all the more reason to go, observe, and take lots of notes, if my fingers will work. The high is supposed to be 48 degrees. What a great day for fun at Wrigley Field!

Anyway, we have other places to go and things to do, but Bro and I were deserted by Bride and Sis on Monday, both of whom had to work. The weather was iffy and we needed indoor fun.

I gave Bro a small list of things we could do indoors, and he was especially intrigued by the chance to go shoot arrows. There’s an archery pro shop and range about 20 minutes from my house, called Glisson Archery. I think Nicolas Cage learned how to shoot there, for the movie The Weather Man.

We settled on seeing Captain America: The Winter Soldier. It turned out we wouldn’t have time to do shoot arrows and also go to the movie, so we’ll have to plan archery for another visit. But I have to admit, I was somewhat relieved not to shoot because the last time I went, I discovered that I’m not as strong as I hoped, and it didn’t take long for my left arm to tire. Since I did a lot of ukelele practicing on Sunday—okay, a lot for me—I wasn’t sure how much more stress the left arm would take. It’s noticeable weaker than the right. This is the opposite of Bro, who is left-handed.

So…my mind being what it is, I remembered something I heard about how using your non-dominant hand can enhance your brain power. It has to do with building new neural pathways. They’ve done a few studies on this; here’s just one of them.

When Bro and I do get to shoot arrows, I want to be ready. To accomplish this (and also to honor–or compete with–my left-handed Bro) I tried a few exercises to improve my left-hand dexterity.  I found them on the Livestrong site.

My Brother, Jerry Seinfeld

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Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee

I’m trying to decide if my brother and Jerry Seinfeld are actually the same person.

My brother deserves that I have this dilemma. A few years ago, he tried to convince me that our Uncle Jim and Donald Rumsfeld were the same person. I don’t remember all Bro’s arguments, but I remember a few of his key points.

  1. Uncle Jim and Donald Rumsfeld were both politically somewhere to the right of Attila the Hun,
  2. they were never seen in the same place at the same time, and
  3. they looked a lot alike.

Based on similar criteria, I can certainly make a case for my brother and Jerry Seinfeld being the same person.

  1. While I have no idea what Jerry’s politics are, I have only a faint notion of my brother’s. I’m better off not knowing. He and I rarely talk politics – someone might have to mop up the blood. Jerry Seinfeld and I have never talked politics, so  that kind of supports my argument. Also, and more to the point, both Bro and Jerry are smart-asses.
  2. I’ve never seen my brother and Jerry Seinfeld together. For years, I could hardly ever reach my brother on the telephone; he claimed he was busy with work and stuff. I think he was just screening his calls. I have never been able to reach Jerry Seinfeld on the phone. Coincidence? I think not. Nowadays, I have better luck calling Bro, because he gave me his super secret cell phone number, which he only gives to people whose calls he’s willing to take. JUST LIKE A CELEBRITY!
  3. they definitely look a lot alike. Sometimes my brother wears a beard, but I assume that’s to keep people from asking for his autograph. He really does look a lot like Seinfeld.

Actually, the “Comedians In Cars Getting Coffee” commercial that aired during the Super Bowl is what got me started on this train of thought. I mentioned the similarity to my husband BK yesterday, and he said he could kind of see it, but that Jerry Seinfeld is funnier looking than my brother.

I don’t know. My brother is pretty funny looking. I have to admit, Jerry Seinfeld’s nose is much bigger. However – and this is a big however – my theory is that when my brother has to make an appearance as Jerry Seinfeld, he applies a false nose. Special effects makeup is so good nowadays, no one can tell it’s fake. Seriously, if you look at my brother’s hairline, his eyes, and his face from just under the nose to his chin, he’s the spitting image of Jerry.

This is pretty much all I got out of the Superbowl, to tell you the truth. Watching it in our house this year was pretty much like having a high-definition version of the Civil War in your family room. So sad. We had no special reason to root for either team, the Bears being their typical disappointing selves. We had to dredge up  a reason to favor either team. The main reason to back Seattle was that our daughter lives there. Flimsy, but it was something. The reason to cheer for Denver was the fact that Peyton Manning (one of BK’s particular heroes) is on their team. We did watch for a few minutes early, but each successive reaction shot of Peyton Manning got sadder and sadder. Finally, we couldn’t take it anymore.

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Foxtrot strip from February 2, 2014

Thank goodness for Downton Abbey, that’s all I can say. And thanks to Foxtrot cartoonist Bill Amend for reminding me it was on last night!