|Preach it Papa Grande, preach it!|
Yes, these places apparently do still exist on Earth.
Needless to say, that also meant no Internet. Hey, no problem. Sure I got the shakes by Monday, but I also got quite a bit of reading done (reviews forthcoming). My Sony Reader is jammed, I've over-extended myself (again) - surely I can live without the Internet and cable TV for a few measly days. Right? Right?
Now since this is generally a romance novel related blog - I'm sure you're all wondering about the wedding. Yes, it was lovely. Yes, My Man's sister looked beautiful and she married a really nice guy. Yes, when she shared a dance with her big brother (My Man), I was a total sap and cried. There, I said it.
Blah, blah, blah.
But lest we think Wendy has totally run off the rails, let us remember that I blog because It's All About Me. And what happened while I was away - with no Internet binky and no cable TV? Yeah....
My Detroit Tigers went on a 12-game winning streak!
None of the games were televised (I was in Yankee country, although a small rogue band of Blue Jays fans lurks in the area), no highlights on the Internet or even ESPN. None. All I had were box scores in the local paper! ARGHHHHH! Seriously, it was like being thrust back to....the 1970s. ::shudder:: Before cable TV. Before ESPN. Before the Internet. ARGHHHHHH!
Now this might not seem like a big deal to...oh, normal people. But the last time my Tigers won 12 games in a row? Yeah, 1934. And what has my team done during the second half over the last several years? Yeah, swoon. They've sucked so bad in the second half that in 2006 they coughed up the AL Central Division title and went to the playoffs as the wild card. And I can't even think about 2009 when we had to play a flippin' tie-breaker game only to lose to the Twins in extra innings.
On the bright side, they're playing in Oakland this weekend, which means - late games. Which means, once our plane landed and we ran the gauntlet of Friday evening rush hour traffic, I got to watch them clinch the AL Central Division (Playoffs baby! Playoffs!). I also got to watch my curmudgeonly old goat of a manager cry on TV. Which is about when I stopped watching the celebration. Seriously, grown men crying. Harder for me to take than watching My Man dance with his baby sister at her wedding.....