Who Can Resist This? ~ by Jay

Certainly not me.

(swiped from Renee)

With Minutes to Spare ~ by Jay

I have just three minutes to get my daily post up.

I am grateful that we had hot buttered rum mix in the freezer (labeled, of course, Adult Cold Medicine).

Number 27 ~ by Jay

All day yesterday I was a little anxious. Not about my actual life - everything's fine there, except that Sam has a bad cold - but about the Yankees. Could Andy Pettite pitch well on three days rest? Who would be the bridge to Mariano? Would Ryan Howard finally start hitting? Would Pedro look great again?

Turns out the answers are: Yes, at least well enough; Chamberlain and Marte; no; and hell, no. Last night the Yankees won their 27th World Series - and the first one Eve got to witness. I woke her up when Mariano took the mound for the top of the 9th. He's the best that ever lived, I said. Watch history. She curled up with her pink fuzzy blanket around her shoulders, over her Derek Jeter shirt, and watched intently as Rivera got one out, then walked a batter, then retired the next two on ground balls. Big grin, eyes wide open. Token arguing about staying up to watch the interviews, and then back to bed.

A new tradition for me. Until last night, every World Series win I watched was followed immediately by a phone call from my father. They did it again, he'd say, and I could hear the smile in his voice. Around dinnertime last night I realized that I wasn't just anxious about the depleted Yankee bullpen. I was also under a wave of grief: a Yankees World Series that I wouldn't share with the man who taught me to love the Yankees. A World Series I would watch alone.

But even before I got Eve out of bed, I wasn't alone. This was my first World Series with Facebook, and I discovered a universe of Yankee fans and Yankee haters in the comments on my status updates. And after it was all over, when I was getting ready for bed, I looked down at my cellphone and there was a text message from my assistant in the old practice: GO YANKS! WE DID IT! Not alone at all. I am grateful for my friends.

Last night the Yankees won their first World Series in the new Yankee Stadium. The names change, but the balls keep flying over the fences. Last night I watched my first World Series with my daughter, and without my father. This is joy. This is grief. This is tradition. This is family.

In Which My Faith in Humanity is Renewed ~by Jay

I often drive through Starbucks in the morning on my way to work (yeah, yeah, yeah, corporate coffee, self-indulgent, expensive, I know, but I like it. So there). Mmm, decaf vanilla latte. And maybe a piece of lemon loaf.

This little luxury is facilitated by the fact that Starbucks takes VISA, so even if don't have cash I can still have my treat. Yesterday they were crowded and slow and someone called me while I was waiting for my coffee to be handed through the window, so I was juggling the card and the coffee and the phone. I ended up with my purse open and my wallet on the seat as I drove off. When I stopped for gas last evening en route home, I couldn't find my VISA card. Not in the car. Not stuck somewhere else in my purse. Not in the wrong slot in my wallet.

Damn.

Got home, got sucked into the busy-ness of the evening and everything that needed to be done that Sam couldn't do because he was ill. Forgot about the card until I pulled into Starbucks this morning. Couldn't hurt to ask, could it?

The barista behind the window lit up. Yes! they had my card. She'd tried to call me back yesterday and even had the next person in line honk at me. She was so relieved! that I'd come back. Did I mind waiting just a minute while the store managed opened the safe? Of course no. I pulled into a parking spot and sipped my peppermint mocha (yeah, yeah, yeah, but I like it) and she came out and handed me my card - and thanked me.

I am grateful for honest baristas and conscientious managers, and even that I was too distracted last night to cancel the card.

Things I Could Do Without ~ by Jay

The illustration at the top of Eve's reading calendar for November


and the conversation I overheard between Sam and Eve after she hung this on the refrigerator.

S: That's a pretty sexist drawing.

E: What's sexist about that?

S: Well, the woman is serving the men, as if getting dinner ready was all her responsibility.

E: So? She's pretty.

_____

I need a drink.

At Long Last ~by Jay

Tomorrow they will remove the carpet from our stairs and upstairs hallway.

You have no idea how much I hate this carpet. It was worn when we moved in, 8 years ago. It is now stained, ripped and smelly (Nature's Miracle can only do so much). We're not carpet lovers to start with, and even if we were, this carpet needs to go.

And with the departure of the carpet, the placement of the cabinets in the bathroom and the progression of grouting, we may - perhaps - we hope - see the beginning of the end of this renovation. 14 weeks and counting, but maybe approaching completion.

There is (of course) a fully loaded bookcase in the upstairs hallway that needs to be packed up before tomorrow. I have to do this myself because Sam is ill. I don't even mind - that's how much I hate this carpet.

Tomorrow when I come home there will be a roll of off-white carpeting in the dumpster in the driveway.

Happy dance!

How Time Flies ~ by Jay

I am grateful that Eve can get herself ready for bed.

I keep telling myself this so I won't grow too nostalgic for the days when she was a cuddly toddler who crawled in my lap for bedtime reading, but who also needed to be supervised every second she was in the bathroom. Independence is good. Right? Right?