The Letter C

I finally figured out how to keep score at yesterday's Nats-White Sox game... Except not until halfway through the fifth inning, so there's a scorecard that doesn't make any sense for half the game. I moved around a bunch and decided Section 416 is where to be when I'm alone and want to keep score. At least 'til I move down to the 100s in the 7th inning.
Demonstration:


I feel like such a nerd going to the games alone, mostly because I laugh out loud at some songs that the organist plays. Yesterday I texted him and asked him to play Hey, Soul Sister (my favorite guilty pleasure song, as has been previously demonstrated), and he was all "Oh man I don't know if I can fit it in today, I'm trying to play songs that fit with Father's Day! but I'll try to squeeze it in" but then, there in the middle of the 8th inning, at double speed, were the tiny electric notes of Train! And then I laughed, and looked at the audio/visual box grinning, and everyone thought I was insane.

In other news, I have unmistakable tan lines on my feet from the sandals that I've been wearing every single day, which is pretty crazy, because I have never been tan in my life. I also still have tan lines from this time, in which I am wearing convertible tights from ballet class that stop mid-calf. I burned slightly from that mark down, though the rest of me was not burned, thankfully, because burns are bad. Instead of just going back to white like normal, it turned into tan, which now looks like a reverse sock tan on my legs. With sandal marks on my feet.

Here is a present for Solstice: the blog of my friend James! Read it, it's real real good, and also funny, and I'm not just saying that because it's my friend writing it. Especially read this page.