I'd been away for over a week when I arrived back home yesterday. The 2+ hour drive from the Salt Lake airport to my home in Idaho was 2+ hours too long this time -- I couldn't wait to get back after the stress of the last week!
I admit it -- I did a little speeding where the Interstate was wide open.
So sue me.
Just south of town, I got a call from hubby, saying that he and Number 7 wanted to go to our church team's softball practice and did I want to meet them there. The day was sunny and breezy, and sitting out in the sunshine watching my two best guys sounded great and incredibly relaxing to me.
Once at the park, I quickly got roped into actually playing -- well, practicing, since that's all it is at this point. Games start soon, though.
I have not played softball since my Senior year of high school, folks. That's 35 years!
But many of my good friends were there -- plenty of women on the team -- so I jumped in.
And had an absolute blast!
It was NEVER this fun in school! I had no coordination and no athleticism at all in those days, so I dreaded the annual softball season. Compared to the other girls, I was pretty awful.
But I suspect that the change for the better now is due in part to my recent switch from right handed-ness to left handed-ness. I discovered my natural left handed-ness last year when I started playing racquetball. Seemed only logical that that would carry over to softball, and it certainly does.
I'd have played much better in school if I'd known I was naturally left handed.
It makes me want to call my mother because she is the one who insisted that, as a toddler, I learn to write with my right hand (as parents often did in those days because the right hand was the "correct" hand).
There is a teensy-weensy part of me that wants to say, "See????? You should've left well enough alone when I was little!"
Oh wait -- Mom already knows. Scratch the phone call.
After practice, we went to the local sporting goods store to purchase a glove for a lefty player, plus a couple bats and balls. Once home, hubby, Number 7, both dogs, and I trooped out to the back pasture (still unsullied by horses this season). We played catch, we had batting practice, and we discovered that our pasture is the perfect place to practice fielding grounders.
Charley, forbidden to capture the ball and slobber all over it, nevertheless ran in a constant triangle during the game of catch -- from one person to the next. Hank explored the pasture and occasionally hung out with us.
All in all, I think yesterday afternoon was THE best homecoming ever!