Just after midnight on a young Monday morning, and I have just gotten home. The weekend trip to meet up with Bellyscratcher in St. Louis to smack a couple games in person and drink obscene amounts of beer was a huge success.
A lightening storm on the trip home had us driving 40 mph for a good chunk of Illinois, but I'm just glad to have made it back without incident. On the drive, I saw more than one car's hazard lights blinking morosely at a wholly inappropriate angle from the roadside ditch.
I hope that the Easter bunny was good to everyone. I see that he's left me eggs filled with comments about such things as Sean Casey's fractured back and why Little Eddie ought to be allowed to knock the team out of contention in the name of player development. I can hardly wait to enjoy their gooey goodness.
I've got something like six hours of audio smack talk for my crack technical staff to skim through and try to assemble a respectable podcast or two. It might take a couple days, but I think it'll be worth the wait.
I don't want to spoil it for you, but I will tell you that Ms. Scratcher is cuter'n hell, even sassier in person than on-line, and as good a host as you could possibly ask for. I think you'll enjoy our in-game conversations, despite the fact that they were losing efforts for the Reds.
Tomorrow it's on to the Marlins. As close at the Reds came to taking today's game from the Cardinals, I think there's real hope. Consider: St. Louis had to wring multiple home runs from Pujols to beat the Reds by one. That's like the United States whipping out the nuclear weapons to subdue Grand Fenwick.
And with that, I'll try to grab a few hours' sleep before it's time to go to work. But not before cracking a couple of those comments in my Easter basket. I just can't resist.