The Mighty Quinn

I didn't blog at all this week. I just kind of hung in limbo. Chasmyn has gone to the great northwest. I miss her already, yet I can't be unhappy when I think about her being gone. She needs this move. I really think it's going to be good. And, of course; Seattle will be much improved by her presence. Anyway, I didn't blog because this is Quinn's anniversary week; and I simply shut down.

It would be impossible to put the miracle that is Quinn into words, although I've tried on several occasions.
The best way to get a sense of this amazing child is to go to Chasmyn's site, read her words, and download her tribute. The download is fast, and worth every second; plus it spares bandwidth -which is important since Lili is hosting the site for free.

Anyway, as I'm sitting here, typing and sniffing and wiping tears out of my eyes; the hubby-man is watching a baseball game. So this next section is titled Why I Love Baseball. The Cardinals are playing in Texas (or something) and we're kicking their butts. Like 13-1 kicking their butts. One of the Cards' hit a ball into the stands, and it landed right in the lap of a little kid. How perfect, right?
Well, perfect until the adult jerk behind the kid falls over the seat (kicking the child in the back in the process) and swipes the ball.
So the crowd is booing and chanting, "Give him the ball!". Mr. Jerkwad sits stubbornly holding the ball and won't give it back. But that's ok, because other people are decent. A child comes down the aisle, and hands over the foul ball he had caught earlier. In true child-selfless fashion, he gave away his own once-in-a-lifetime catch.
Then the home-plate umpire gave him a ball.
Then an employee of the stadium gave him a ball.
and then Reggie Sanders came out of the dugout, and gave the kid a bat.
Can you believe it?
I can.
That's why I love baseball.

side note: the gift of the bat earned Reggie a standing O. He didn't do it for the ovation. He did it because it was a good thing to do. Also, another person just gave the kid a ball. I hope Mr. Jerkwad gets many nights of satisfaction from his stolen ball, because that hunk of leather and cork is all he's got; whereas the little kid who caught it in the first place has the love of an entire stadium. Nyah.