It was an eventful Labor Day weekend for the Brewers.
Friday night was the home run derby at BBC. I wasn't planning to enter the contest, so I showed up after work in a skirt and heels. Well, after a little encouragement from our pastor, I kicked off my shoes and grabbed a bat. No one was as surprised as I was when I hit three home runs and won the women's division of the competition. Twelve won the kid's division, so the Brewers had all kinds of bragging rights going into the tournament. Unfortunately, the bragging stopped there.
Saturday we played in the BBC Wiffleball tournament, teaming up once again with the Echols crew. This time we were The Supers. That was our team name, not a description of our playing skeelz. What? We're supposed to look fabulous AND play a good game? Too much pressure. We just focused on having fun.
As you can see, we all wore superhero costumes: Batman, Spiderman, Superman, The Incredibles, the whole Marvel lineup, the Incredible Hulk, the Punisher, and Ryan who was wearing a "God is my Hero" shirt. You can't see me, the midget, back there in the back row, but I was wearing my Super Grover "Superfly" T-shirt. Because I'm cool like that. Like how I was so cool when I fell rounding second base (trying to be greedy and take more bases than I should rightfully take) and commando crawled back to the base to avoid getting tagged out. I was safe, but it wasn't pretty.
Then on Sunday, we were the victims of a hit-and-run driver. Dan and I had been at praise team practice really early in the morning, and then we came home to pick up the kids before church started. On the way through our neighborhood, a blonde on a cell phone plowed through a stop sign without even braking and slammed into the back of our car. Luckily, Dan has Jedi-like reflexes and saw her coming in his peripheral vision. He sped up just enough so that she hit the back quarter panel instead of the back passenger side door where my oldest child was sitting. For a split second, I saw Twelve's life flash before my eyes and thanked God that he wasn't hurt.
We pulled over to assess the damage, but the other driver took off. Long story (and a case of mistaken identity) short, the police didn't find her but they're still looking. Right. You know what that means. I won't be counting on her paying to fix my car any time soon. But the important thing is that no one was hurt and my car is still driveble. Ugly, but drivable. Hey, it's a 1999 Camry that only gets washed about once a year, so it wasn't much to look at even before the wreck. AND we made it back to church on time to sing/play guitar in the praise band, so it all worked out.
Monday I was attacked by cave crickets, my arch nemesis, while cleaning out the garage. The final score was Cave Crickets: 0, Teble: 16. It may have actually been higher than 16, but I lost count when several of them jumped on my legs at once and I went ballistic batting at them with a broom. I'm pretty sure I saw my life flash before my eyes right before I snuffed out the lives of those vile insects.
Monday night we went to our Sunday School teacher's house for a cookout and swimming party. At one point Nine fell off the raft he was floating on and panicked when he couldn't touch the bottom. He started flailing around and crying for help. I kicked off my shoes for the second time that weekend and was ready to dive in to save him, when his older brother (who also can't swim, but was tall enough to touch the bottom) jumped in and saved his brother's life. At that point I saw Nine's life flash before my eyes and realized that if this weekend didn't end soon, our good luck might just run out.
So, God has kept us under a circle of protection for the last few days. But, you might not want to stand too close to any of us, just in case our weird voodoo hex is contagious and our circle of protection doesn't expand to outsiders.
Consider yourself warned.