Palm Sunday like it ought to be... baseball!

I shouldn't write about the stuff that doesn't affect me, and I shouldn't write about the stuff that does. But since I have a niece knee deep in Snow in South Dakota I thought I should share that Spring has arrived with a "Worth the Wait" attitude. I dressed and went to choir practice early, made a pot of coffee and started singing Christmas carols - I love God rest ye Merry Gentlemen. They brought me back to today and our programs soon enough, we had the service all the songs and Communion, the day is full. My friend and I talked after, then I went out (since my wife is off with the ladies of her generation and church). In the game, on deck and then at bat, a solid single.

Range 15, Fort Lewis, and my M1 Garand. I only fired twice, eight rounds at fifty yards, sight adjustment another eight rounds at one hundred yards and I am happy with my rifle and promising myself more dry fire practice for the best of reasons. I did have more ammunition, but the beauty of the warm Sunny Spring-like day was not to be wasted, I had my rounds in the black and would be back. I met a brass rat, he harvests and reloads and sells them to folks to keep his ARM from kicking him out of his home - all retirements aren't equal. I also had some interest in my M1, from other shooters and a young man without a clue - he asked me if it was a Mauser - I laughed at that and told him what it was, I don't think I am qualified to own a Mauser, I am several rifles over my limit. A nice day and I kept the target, for analysis later. That is like hitting a double!

I went home and sure enough, my wife was still missing so I wheeled the Trusty Triumph out, put on my desert gauntlets, helmet and D-harness boots and I was gone. I did have to get a ride in for fuel, for fun and for fantastic frolic. Harley-Davidson had emailed me about a test ride at the local dealers, but there were so many sunshine riders out that I wasn't slowing down unless it was a red light, stop sign or an emergency. The day was perfect, the bike leaned so well, the smiles creased my ancient laugh lines, I never stopped but found what I was looking for and returned home happier than I deserve. That was like hitting a triple and driving the runner home.

So this time my wife was cleaning her car, and I suggested we go walk the park and we did, then I filled up my Caravan and got it washed and cleaned it up on the inside when we got home. And I washed and shined my Trusty Triumph, because I am just not the kind of rider that worries about what he looks like, only how he rides the road. Walking with my wife and working around the home is a home run, well, and all baseball should be so meaningful and steroid free.