As I type I am enjoying a mug of super-strength English tea, a present from old chum Walter Mondale hand-delivered by Brooklyn bloggerati Listmaker and Youthlarge. I am also listening to a copy of "Listmaker, Volume One" (I'm tapping my toes to Neko Case). Blogging shrinks the world.
When I started this hokey little collection of diatribes 15 months ago I didn't think that one of the results would be Mrs. Weasel and me sitting up here in Maine at Hadlock Field with Listmaker and Youthlarge watching the Portland Sea Dogs (AA Red Sox affiliate)take a mediocre 3-0 game over the New Hampshire Fisher Cats (Blue Jays). The game was so unremarkable that it was agreed to universal consensus that the Sea Dogs mascot Slugger (a mer-dog; unlike the logo his costume lacks fin-feet but I understand the problems true accuracy would cause. "Mummy, why is that furry fish dog ineffectually flapping along the left field line?") earned his money (and his sponsored minivan) this afternoon. Lets see; we had a crazy drive through the outfield on a special ATV, a rendition of YMCA with toolbelt from atop the Fisher Cat's dugout, a fixed footrace with a toddler, and various gurnings and arm flappings all game. Beautiful stuff.
The lack of on field fireworks also allowed us to provide background and character sketches for about 90% of you on the links bar, tackle a couple of cold and tasty Geary's Pale Ales, admire Youthlarge's forthright attack on her third consecutive daily hotdog, and to enjoy the incongruity of the crowd turning to face a small flag dwarfed by a gigantic model LL Bean Maine Hunting Shoe during the 7th inning stretch and "God Bless America". I hesitate to speak for Listmaker and Youthlarge, but I did notice that they were very taken with the scale replica of the green monster (replete with Citgo and Coke signs) as well as the clam chowder they had for late-lunch/early-dinner (lupper? Dunch? Is there a word for that meal akin to 'brunch'?) while Mrs. W daintily enjoyed a crab roll and I demolished a mound of fried clams like an orange haired ogre.
When we left them gazing out to Casco Bay from Commercial Street the last intelligence we had was that they were venturing north to Bath- home of the Arleigh Burke class destroyer and the Chocolate Church arts center, among other things. Who knows? Maybe we passed them northbound on I-95 as we beat feet for Camden and two hungry hounds.
I believe a good time was had by all- diplomatic gifts were exchanged, seafood and beer consumed, baseball watched, and stories told (only the publicly cleared-for-air ones, Mondale; have no fear. As you have said before, we could destroy each other with the terrible knowledge we hold). The only thing I failed to do was wish Youthlarge and Listo a belated happy 1st anniversary, so consider that done.
I suppose I should come good on my threats to invade Brooklyn next. And yes, before the Mets shut up shop for the year (so before October, given current form). See you when the leaves begin to turn.