Yesterday, we caught our first Ottawa Lynx games. The Lynx (Lynxes? Lynxi?) are a triple-A team affiliated with the Philadelphia Phillies, and it’s their last season in Ottawa because they’re moving to Allentown (where they’re closing all the factories down) next year. I assume attendance is what sunk the team here, seeing as there were about 200 people at last night’s game. It was a great time though—on par with any MLB game I’ve been to. Best of all: they played the Durham Bulls (which I was pretty sure was a made-up team until about two years ago). See that team and you can’t help but fill in all the unheard words between players with dialogue from the film. “Nuke's scared because his eyelids are jammed and we need a live rooster to take the curse off Jose's glove.” There’d been a severe weather advisory all day, and I thought we’d be running for our lives ten minutes in, but it wasn’t until the bottom of the fifth that the rain finally started. And it was the storm of the damn century (for at least the forty minutes that it lasted). It went from one of two drops to veritable sheets of rain in, literally, the space of forty seconds. You know what’s really comfortable to wear? Soaking wet denim.
What are you reading these days? How's that working out for you?
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