JP's HBC baseball team played their last tournament of the summer season in Huntsville over the weekend.  Three games, three losses, including a heartbreaking 3 - 2 defeat on Saturday morning in a game they could - maybe should - have won.  

I missed the tournament because my law league softball tournament was set for the weekend, too.  I hated to miss the tournament but it couldn't be helped.  My softball team was the #1 seed and it's been a few years since we've won the tournament.  We one our first game Saturday morning, handily, are were set to play in the winner's bracket finals on Sunday at noon, only to be rained out after a brief thunderstorm Saturday night.  Bad luck, because we had a full squad for once and that's unlikely to be the case if the tournament is rescheduled to next weekend.  

To his delight, Joe was the batboy, again, for JP's team at the tournament in Huntsville.  To say he enjoyed himself tremendously is an understatement.  What's better for a boy in the 11th summer of his life than to spend the weekend in another city hanging out with your 15 year old brother and his teammates at a baseball tournament?  Nothing.  There is nothing better.

After the boys' lost their season finale 6 - 3 - a game in which JP was the starting pitcher - Joe was distraught that the season was over, according to Jude.  

"It's over, just when it was starting to get fun!" Joe exclaimed, after the game.

I think maybe he's describing his summer, too.  Over, or almost over, just when it was starting to get fun.  The start of school is on Joe's mind, I know, as July turns to August, and the last two weeks of idle time are staring him squarely in the eye.  

JP's summer baseball season was a mixed bag.  He loved playing with his teammates and traveling to tournaments but he didn't play his best.  I think he would tell you that.  His hitting never came around and his fielding - at least at shortstop - was spotty.  He pitched well at times, although not yesterday.  He needs to find a second pitch he can rely on because at his size, travel baseball players can time up a 70 - 75 mph fastball with relative ease.  He never found his curve ball this summer and he didn't have the confidence in his changeup to throw it consistently.

His experience, though, was a positive one and everything I had hoped he would get out of playing for HBC.  A lot of practice.  A higher level of baseball competition.  Good coaching.  Great teammates.  He wants to play for HBC again next season and I hope that works out for him.

What impressed me most about JP's summer baseball season, though, was the way he supposed his teammates when he wasn't playing.  As I've written in this space before, I think, JP was the first player out of the dugout to congratulate his teammates as they left the field after an inning.  He was up, engaged, and watching the game intently and enthusiastically, regardless of the score.  That's leadership and a love of the game, two things I would like to think I've helped instill in him and Joe, too.

As I write this, I'm ensconced at Red Bicycle, a coffee shop in the Nations (West Nashville) on Monday morning.  I dropped JP off at cross country practice at Vaughn's Creek at 7:15 a.m. and I'm due to pick him ups at 9:15 a.m.  After playing baseball all weekend, and pitching yesterday, he'll run eight or nine miles with his teammates on MBA's cross country team this morning.  That's JP.

Joe is off to a second week at Camp Widjiwagen.  This week is going to be busy, as Jude flied to Washington D.C. this morning for a conference she attends every year.  I'll be running transportation every morning an afternoon, so things are going be hectic as I'll be a single parent until Thursday night.  

With fall and the start of school around the corner, I want to enjoy the last two real weeks of summer with Jude and the boys.  It's been a good one.

JP and JK, in a photo I took last weekend.  The "Daily Double" for my Dodgers the last couple of years of the team's existence.  JK at leadoff and JP hitting second.  

A Photo to Remember

A friend - Pat Lawson - took this photo yesterday of the boys at JP's travel baseball game for Harris Baseball Club at Beech High School.  To his unending delight, Joe served as the bat boy for a game HBC played against a team from Michigan.

I think this is one of my favorite photos ever taken of the boys together.  It perfect encapsulates their relationship and their individual personalities at ages 11 and 15.

Joe's smile is, well . . . Joe.  Still so innocent.  The happiness in that smile and expressed on his face is so pure it's almost hard to look at, like a piercingly blue sky on a cold, winter morning.    

Is there a better summer in your life than your 11 year old summer?  

Joe was so, so happy to be in the dugout with JP and his teammates, all of whom were very kind to him.  It was like he had 15 or 16 big brothers.  Von and Dalton, JP's coaches, treated Joe like a player.  He loved every minute of the game.  In fact, he can't stop telling me how much fun it was to be in the dugout and to be the batboy for the JP's team.

His face is a mask of unadulterated joy.  

I also see pride on Joe's face.  Pride because he felt like he was part of JP's team, sure.  More importantly, though, pride at being so close to his brother, in the dugout, and having a front row seat to watch JP interact with his teammates on and off the field and, well, compete.  

Joe loves JP so much.  As I've said, JP is his superhero.  In this photo, Joe is happy to be with JP.  Really with him.    

JP's face, of course, indicates the intensity with which he is watching the game.  He's laser focused here, as he's always laser focused in everything he does.  Sports.  Working out.  Running.  Studying.  Always intense.  Always focused.  That's JP.

I see confidence in JP's face, too, and I like it.  It's a quiet confidence, sure, because it's JP, but confidence nonetheless.  When you work as hard as he does, on his own and at practice, it's easier to be confident.   

In this photo, I see a boy, JP, who is comfortable with who he is and how he approaches life.  I'm not sure you can ask for much more than that from a 15 year old about to begin his first year of high school.  His compass always seems to point in the right direction, which is no small thing.  

I see a seriousness in JP's face.  That's him, through and through.  If JP is going to do something, he's going to prepare, pay attention, and give every once of himself to the task at hand.  That's just his approach to life.  Why do something if you're not going to try to do it as well as you possibly can?  He's locked in to the game, for sure.

I also see a trace of pride in JP's face.  He's the ultimate teammate in every sport he plays.  He thrives on being part of a team.  He's selfless and always places team above self.  He loves being part of something bigger than the individual and competing for a collective goal.    

When he's not playing, JP is always the first player out of the dugout to congratulate his teammates after they get out of inning and jog from the field to the dugout.  I see that time and time again and it's something that makes me very proud, as a father.    

_______________________________

JP's HBC baseball team lost three games this week by a total of five runs and I could care less.  

What I care about and what makes me so happy is that I was fortunate enough to see my sons in the dugout together, during a game, at a point in their lives when they could appreciate being in each other's company.  

Jude and I are blessed beyond measure to have the sons that we have.  I realize that and I think about it nearly every day.  

I'm going to frame this photo and hang it in a place where I'll see it every day, so I can be reminded of this moment forever.

  

Joe Softball

Joe loves to come to my law league softball games.  He keeps the score book for us, handles the coin toss, throws with me and, occasionally, gets in on the action.  

Last night, because we had a numbers issue at the beginning of our game against the remnants of Waller (recently acquired by a firm out of Florida), Joe played right field in the first inning.  He allowed a slicing single to bounce past him on the only ball hit his way but here was no damage done, other than to his pride.  Our tenth player arrived as we prepared to bat in the bottom of the first inning, so Joe was relegated to score keeping.  

After giving up four runs in the top of the first inning, our bats came alive while Waller's fell silent and we gonged them in time to get to watch the last few innings of the MLB All-Star game (a rare National League win, 3-2).  Joe batted for Big John Wilks late and grounded out to third base.  He was disappointed he didn't get on base but he was happy to get an at bat.

I played well last night, which was nice.  I've been hot at the plate the last few games, as I've found my swing after reminding myself to wait on the ball and not be anxious at the plate.  Let it travel, I keep reminding myself.  When I'm locked in, I hit the ball right up the middle, every time, which is what I did last night.  I was 2-2 and drove in a pair of runs with a 2 out single late in the game.  When I'm really on a heater, I can place the ball to right field, as well.  I think that's coming.

After the first inning, I kept Waller's batters off balance for the most part bolstered by several nice defensive plays behind me.  I caught a hard grounder hit to my left by one of Waller's better hitters to end their second to last at bat.  As I've aged, my range fielding balls in or around me is more limited, so it's nice to make a play every once in a while.

I turned 57 last week, which is hard to believe in some ways.  I take pride in being able to pitch, and pitch well, in the law league.  30 + years playing softball with my fellow lawyers and counting.  I enjoy the league so much every summer because it gives me a chance to spend time with old friends on my team and other teams and to meet new lawyers and make new friends, as well.

What I really enjoy, though, is the time I get to spend with Joe at softball games.  He's at the perfect age to go to the games and watch me play.  There is still a childlike innocence about him, which is precious and beautiful.  I'm still infallible and all powerful to him, as his father, so it's great for him to see me do something well, even if it's just playing softball.  

To Joe, it's more than that, really.  It's a chance for him to see me interact with my friends.  He knows that I play a large role - along with my guy, Quint - in putting the softball team together and encouraging our team members to hang out for a bit after the games.  He sees me interacting with my teammates, on and off the field.  He sees me in my element, as an athlete and a leader, and that's important.

On the ride home, Joe and I listened to Radiohead's album, Pablo Honey, which has been the soundtrack  to our spring and summer (thanks to Rohan Chitale).  As time passes, and Joe grows up, I'll always think of him and baseball season of his 11th year, when I hear songs off Pablo Honey (Creep, Stop Whispering, I Can't, etc.).  

Last night, as we were driving home and listening to Radiohead, I furtively glanced over at him riding shotgun beside me.  He was singing along to the music and playing air drum and air guitar, too.  He looked so innocent and content . . . so happy . . . that it almost brought tears to my eyes.  Age 11 is maybe the perfect age for a Joe, especially the summer of his 11th year.  Everything and anything is possible.  

It's a beautiful thing.  

Honest Coffee Roasters

When I walked into Honest Coffee Roasters this morning, I could see that the renovations are almost complete.  Like so much else at the Factory in Franklin, near my office, HCR has undergone a makeover, one that will triple its previous size, increase seating, add an espresso machine, and add a kitchen that will allow food - real food - to be served for the first time.

I've been coming here for so long, close to a decade, I guess.  HCR has long been an oasis of sorts for me. It's been a place where I come to drink a good cup of coffee and to be alone for a few minutes of peace and solitude.  In the early days, I often thought, and wrote in this space, about my mom as she dealt with Alzheimer's disease.  I processed my thoughts and my sadness over her plight in life as I sipped my coffee.  It was nice to see a friendly face every morning - Anthony Foti comes to mind - I miss our brief conversations about music or life.  

Coffee shops are, by their very nature, transient places in the sense that regulars come and go (Dennis) and baristas likewise come and go.  No one, patrons or employees, stays at a coffee shop forever or for longer that a year or two.  Sometimes it seems to me that my life stays the same while everything changes around it.  

This is the third, or fourth, renovation that HCR has undertaken in this location.  Originally, at least when I started having coffee here, it was a small coffee shop, probably 15% - 20% of its new size.  The seating was minimal and the space was dominated by a large, slightly slanted drafting table.  The seats at the drafting table were prime real estate, especially in the mornings.

After the second renovation that I can remember, when HCR doubled in size, there was a conference room table in the back of the new part of the coffee shop, nestled behind a bookcase.  Several times, I met staff from the office there or, occasionally clients.  Other times, I spread out at the table and worked on motions or briefs for an hour or two.  

That, of course, was pre-pandemic.  So much of life, it seems, is divided into two parts.  Pre-pandemic and post-pandemic.  When the pandemic arrived, I started bringing my own coffee cup - a practice I continue to this day - and after ordering, I walked up to the front of the Factory and sat on one of the four couches there, so I could socially distance from others.  That habit has continued for the most part, even as the Factory has been undergoing a complete makeover after its sale a couple of years ago, although this morning I am sitting in one of the newly arrived chairs in the new section of the shop.

The baristas know me as an old head.  A regular.  I tip them well and they're friendly to me.  I realize there's a correlation there but I tend to treat them kindly and I would like to think they reciprocate by treating me the same way.  

Much like what happens when I am on Belmont U.'s campus, where I spent so much time with the boys when they were younger, I see ghosts at HCR when I sit here to drink my coffee in the morning or, occasionally, in the afternoon.  Baristas from the past who have come and gone, a few of whom I keep up with on Instagram.  Some have moved away or changed careers (Jason, Nick) while others have started coffee shops (Chase at Wolf & Scout in Columbia) on their own or gone to work at other coffee shops (Brad).  

I think HCR - at least this location of HCR - will always be special to me because of the amount of time I have spent here.  Sure, bigger is not always better and I miss the early days, when it felt like I had discovery a coffee shop that no one else new about.  With locations in Huntsville, AL and the Factory in Franklin only, it was a relatively small operation.  Now, things are different, with locations in West Nashville, Berry Farm, and downtown on Lea Avenue.  

Honest Coffee Roasters changes.  The Factory changes.  My boys grow older and I grow older, too (57 years old two days ago).  That's the way of things.

The Kid 2.0

Early Friday morning, JP, Joe, and I drove to the beach in Santa Monica for a run.  Initially, Joe was going to run one mile with me in the neighborhood before I went to the beach to run with JP.  I encouraged Joe to come to the beach with us and to run longer and he agreed, albeit haltingly.  

After we parked the car and walked over to the strand - the paved bike and running paths along the beach - JP ran the first mile with Joe and me, before picking up the pace going on a run of his own.  Joe and I ran to the Santa Monica Pier, and past it, then turned around at the 1.5 mile mark and ran back to the parking lot.  

As we began the third and final mile, Joe unconsciously began to push the pace.  I smiled and ran alongside him, my heart filled with pride.  For a runner like me, what could be better than a morning run with my 11 year old on one side and the Pacific Ocean on the other side?  

Joe began to tire so I suggested we back off the pace a bit.  I encouraged him to push himself on the home stretch, as we finished, and he did.  Joe finished strong, which is what I want him to do, running and in life.  There are so many lessons to learn from running and it make me happy to see him start to learn them.

As we walked along the strand together to cool down, we talked quietly.  I congratulated Joe on being the proud owner of his first ever three mile run.  He grinned in response.  

I reminded him to never doubt himself or underestimate what he was capable of achieving.  

I reminded Joe that God has given him an amazing gift, a healthy and strong body.  I also told him that it's his responsibility to take care of the gift, to develop it, and to make is stronger and to keep it healthy.  I talked about the importance of using the talents God has given him.

Really, for me, those are perhaps the best moments of running with my boys.  The conversations during or after our runs together, when we talk about the good stuff.  The stuff that really matters.

A Slice of Blue Heaven

So rarely in life does everything work out exactly the way you want it to.  

Yesterday, though, on the boys' trip to Dodger Stadium - and my first trip since I was a toddler - it all came together and we enjoyed a perfect day in, for us, a perfect place.  Dodger Stadium.

Above all else, I am a baseball fan.  The game means everything to me.  I love, really love, other sports but for reasons I don't quite understand, baseball is my thing.  It always has been and it always will be the first and most important love of my sporting life.  

The way the New Yorker's Roger Angell wrote about baseball is the way I feel about baseball.  His love of the game and mine were perfect matches, I think.  What I would have given to watch a baseball game with him before he died last year at age 101.  

My love for the Los Angeles Dodgers run deep and is 50 years old and counting.  I am Dodger blue through and through.  Like Tommy Lasorda, I bleed Dodger blue.  The teams I coached in baseball for so many years were the Dodgers (JP) and the Junior Dodgers (Joe).  JP's 11U team that I coached to a Cal Ripken State Championship were the WNSL Dodgers.  We proudly wore Dodgers blue.

And my boys, thankfully, inherited my love of the Dodgers and, conversely, my hatred for the San Francisco Giants.  We've celebrated Dodgers' wins together - especially the 2020 World Series - and commiserated over Dodgers' losses together.  The boys have a ton of Dodgers' gear - hoodies, t-shirts, hats, etc.  We have framed photos, upstairs, of Dodgers' players that I bootlegged off the internet and Instagram - Mookie Betts, Justin Turner, and Cody Bellinger.  

For our summer vacation trip, Jude and I decided to take the boys to California.  I planned the trip around a pair of Dodgers' games - vs. the Pirates, then the Angels.  The idea was that the boys would have a chance to see Brian Reynolds play one night and Shohei Ohtani and Mike Trout the next night.  In Dodgers Stadium.

I purchased the tickets for both nights a few months ago.  I purchased four extra tickets for the Godfather of Foodbrothers, Jeff "El Jefe" Williams and his family, for the Pirates' game.  Jeff, one of Jude's closest friends from Tulane, is a diehard Dodgers' fan.  I also purchased parking passes for Jeff and me, and four pregame stadium tour passes for Jude, the boys, and me.    

A couple of months ago, I reached out to a friend of mine, Andy, who is the hitting coach for the Pittsburgh Pirates.  Long story.  I let him know we would be in Los Angeles at the Dodgers-Pirates game and I would love to see him.  He instantly texted back and told me he could get us field passes for batting practice.  He suggested I text him again closer to the game and remind him that we would be there.  

Field passes for batting practice!?!  

Too good to be true, I thought at the time, but possible.  I told Jude but didn't mention it to the boys because I didn't want to disappoint them if the field passes for batting practice didn't work out.  

As you can see, there were a lot of moving parts.  Traffic.  Would Andy be able to come through with the field passes for batting practice?  Parking.  Could we get to Dodgers Stadium on time for the tour?  Could I transfer Jeff's tickets to him?  I was fairly stressed about the entire deal, to be honest.

And miracle of miracles, it all worked out.  Perfectly.

We left our rental house in Santa Monica a little later than we planned, fought a bit of traffic, but arrived at Dodger Stadium about 3:15 p.m.  We took a couple of wrong turns trying to find our parking lot but, finally, ended up in Parking Lot B courtesy of the parking pass I purchased a few months ago.  We stumbled upon the starting point for the Dodgers Stadium tour 15 minutes or so before it started at 3:40 p.m., queued up, and in we went.  

Although the Stadium tour was fascinating, much to the chagrin of one of the tour guides I sneaked away at 4:15 p.m. to try to find the field passes my friend, Andy, had left for me.  First, I tried the left field pro shop to no avail, then a kindly security guard suggested I try the left field ticket booth outside the Stadium.  I say kindly because he agreed to wait at the gate and let me back inside.  Initially, the lady in the ticket booth told me she needed identification for all four of us, unless they were children.  I told a white lie - a small one - when I said that JP, Joe, and Jude were my children.  Shaking her head, she grudgingly handed over all four batting practice field passes.  

Jude, JP, and Joe followed my lead and ditched the Stadium before it was over and met me at Section 27, where we walked down to the field.  We showed the usher our passes and, just like that, we were on the filed.  

On the field at Dodger Stadium.  

I'm not sure who was more in awe and more excited, the boys or me.  It was surreal, really.  The grass was so green and the sky was so blue.  Dodger blue.  A lifeline dream fulfilled for me, at age 56, and for JP and Joe, at ages 15 and 11.  For a baseball fan, and a Dodger fan, it was perfect.  Perfect.

We watched the Dodgers take batting practice first, then the Pirates.  We saw the players participating in various drills when the weren't batting.  Short hop ground ball drills.  Shagging fly balls.  All of the pregame stuff.  All of the good stuff for baseball fans like the three of us.

It was fascinating watching the players and coaches interact with each other and with the fans.  The Dodgers' manager, Dave Roberts, was particularly jovial in taking time to talk to many of the fans watching batting practice.  He signed autographs and posed for photographs.  Although I am far from a Dave Roberts fan as a baseball manager, I am a fan of his as a human being, particularly after watching him talk to so many of the children that were gathered around the security rope separating them from the field.  

When the Pirates took the field, my friend, Andy, ambled over.  It was great to see him.  He spent several minutes with the boys and me, talking baseball and hitting.  I thanked him profusely, of course, for what for me, was the ultimate hookup.  Andy gave the boys brand new baseballs, which was an unexpected (and appreciated) gift.  

The boys got a couple of autographs from Pirates' players.  Connor Joe signed Joe's baseball and Andrew McCutchen signed JP's baseball.  

As batting practice ended, we made or way to our seats in the Loge section on the third base side.  When I saw Jeff and his family already seated, I breathed a sigh of relief, because I had been worried that I had not properly transferred the tickets and parking pass to him.  Thankfully, he received the tickets on his cell phone as he drove to the game, so he was able to park and enter Dodger Stadium without any difficulty.  

The Dodgers won the game, 5 - 2.  We saw Julio Urias pitch for the Dodgers and get the win.  We also saw Freddie Freeman and Max Muncy hit home runs for the Dodgers.  And, in a twist of fate that only made the game more memorable, my friend, Andy, got tossed late in the game for arguing balls and strikes.  The boys and I couldn't believe it.  

We left just before the game ended, found our rental SUV, and avoided most of the traffic to make it to our rental house in under an hour.  

It was a day I will remember for the rest of my life.  I think JP and Joe feel the same way.  

Santa Monica Beach Run

Late afternoon yesterday, we arrived at the house we're renting in Santa Monica.  What a beautiful city!  Perfect weather with the temperature holding steady at 70 degrees as we walked to dinner around the corner at Milo & Olive's.  Great meal, sitting outside in the back.  Italian.  Pasta, pizza, and a garlic knot loaded with fresh garlic cloves (huge hit).

On the way to the store after dinner, Jude and I drove a couple of miles to the overlook of the beach and the Pacific Ocean.  The view of the ocean was breathtaking.  We met a nice lady - Karen - and her daughter, who took a couple of photos for us and gave us some tips on where to go and what to do while we're here.  There is a cool dirt trail that runs along the overlook.  Cooler still, I noticed that there is a paved bike and running path on the beach, which is where JP and I ran this morning.

Four miles for me and five miles for JP on a cool, overcast beach morning.  I felt good, strong even, for a change during our run.  Running along the ocean, for me, is magical.  Better still to share a run like that with JP.  Top 10 run for 2023.  

Santa Monica.  Wow.

La Jolla

La Jolla.  

Saying it, or typing it, brings to my mind a sense of beauty and tranquility that only can be found near the ocean.  A peacefulness.  For me, a centeredness, that I sometimes feel in church.  A sense of place and rightness, that everything is as it should be, if only for a few stolen moments or if I am lucky, for a few stolen days.

Today, it's minutes that I am stealing.  Hoarding, really.  Jude, JP, and Joe are sea kayaking in the caves near the beach in La Jolla.  And while they do that, I am having a coffee in Mrkt Space, a gourmet coffee shop, wine store, and restaurant a couple of blocks from the beach and the Pacific Ocean.  The large, arch shaped windows are open and a gentle ocean breeze is blowing.  Reggae music is playing in the background.  

It's a perfect moment.  A lifetime moment, really.  

It's beautiful in La Jolla today.  Hell, it's probably beautiful in La Jolla almost every day.  65 degrees with the gentle ocean breeze I mentioned earlier, under an azure blue sky.  Perfect.  

Later today, there is traffic ahead and the uncertainty of finding the house we are renting in Santa Monica. The stress of trying to find a time, this afternoon or tonight, to see my Aunt Leslee in Yorba Linda.  I realize, of course, that it's quite possibly the last time I will see her in person and the only time she will see my boys.  We don't get to California often (or ever), obviously, and she is not inclined to travel to Nashville.  Leslee is my father's youngest sister and fellow family lawyer (retired) and I would hate to miss seeing her on this trip.

Work is work, too.  Inescapable.  Always there.  Two calls to the office this morning and it's barely 10 a.m. PST.

For now, though, I am in this moment.  Present.  Mindful.  Grateful.  

Fourth of July in San Diego

It's the Fourth of July, our nation's birthday, and I find myself in San Diego, CA, for our summer vacation. As much as we love to spend a week in Santa Rosa Beach, FL, Jude and I decided to be a little more adventurous this summer and I'm sure glad we did.

We arrived on Sunday morning and drove from the airport to Encinitas Beach on the recommendation of the young man who walked me to our rental car at Enterprise.  Always ask a local where to go.  After a drive of 30 minutes or so, we parked and had a wonderful brunch, outside, at a restaurant on the main drag parallel to the beach.  Jude and I had excellent Bloody Mary's and after we ate, we walked up and down the street, window shopping.  I graved a coffee from Ironsmith's, which I drank as we explored the Encinitas Beach.  

There's something different - weirder in a good way - between the beach towns on the Pacific Ocean in California and the breach towns off 30A on the Gulf Coast.  The California beach towns are more established and, well, authentic.  The beach towns off 30A are filled with the nouveau riche and other than Santa Rosa Beach, have little real character.  Prettier beaches, I guess, but the ocean is better hear and the towns are considerably more interesting.  Maybe it's the surfing vibe, which you don't see on the Gulf Coast.

Yesterday, JP, Joe and I went for an early morning run.  Joe ran the first mile with us, then we dropped him off at the house.  I ran two more miles with JP, then he ran a fourth mile by himself, finishing at Better Buzz Coffee.  JP and I had coffee, hung out for a few minutes, then walked home for breakfast.  

Later, we drove to Torrey Pines.  Beautiful golf course.  After visiting the pro shop, we had a wonderful lunch outside with a view of the first hole.  The setting was exquisite even for non-golfer like me.  JP had the itch, I could tell.  Hopefully, someday, he can return to Torrey Pines and play a round of golf.  We hiked on a trail after lunch and had gorgeous views of the front nine of the golf course, then of the Pacific Ocean. 

 

After we short detour through Del Mar, CA - shout out to my mom's best friend, Judee Potter, who died last April - we arrived home and relaxed for a bit.  Then, we played Hearts outside at a table in the small, walled in back yard.  An oasis in the middle of the neighborhood.  We ordered takeout sushi, ate dinner at the same table in the back yard, then went to bed early.  

A perfect day, as Jude remarked last night.  

California Here We Come

It's early on Saturday morning and relatively cool outside, although 100 degree temperatures are coming shortly.  I'm having a quick cup of coffee before I take Joe to Grassland for two games in the 11U Cal Ripken state tournament.  He's only going to get two games with his Braves' teammates, though, because tomorrow morning we leave for San Diego.  Three days in San Diego, followed by four days in Los Angeles.

California here we come.  

My native state.  I haven't been back home for many, many years.  I am excited, of course, but because I am above all else the travel curmudgeon, I am a bit apprehensive.  Everyone - and I mean everyone - is traveling the summer, so I firmly expect there to be trouble at the airport, trouble with the rental car, trouble with the homes I booked through VRBO.  I will be pleasantly surprised if everything goes smoothly. 

What I am particularly excited about is spending time in a place where the high temperatures are in the low to mid-70's, as opposed to the 100 degree heat and humidity that arrived in Nashville this week.  It's been miserable.  Seven days away from the heat will be nice.  

Assuming our flight is on time and we get our rental car tomorrow morning in San Diego without incident, we should arrive in time to walk over to a huge farmers' market near the house where we're staying.  We're also a longer walk away from the San Diego Zoo, which has Jude very excited.  I bet she talks Joe into going to the Zoo, while JP and I do something else.  Other than that, no set plans.  I would like to see Point Loma, La Jolla, and the beach.  

Visiting Los Angeles was the real point of our trip because I have tickets for us to see two games at Dodger Stadium.  We will see the Pirates, followed by the Angels.  Hopefully, Brian Reynolds (Pirates) and Shohei Otani/Mike Trout (Angels).  And, of course, Mookie Betts, Freddie Freeman, and crew.  I purchased tickets to a tour of Dodger Stadium, which should be great fun.

I booked a house in Santa Monica for the Los Angeles portion of our trip, so we should be relatively close to Dodger Stadium.  Traffic, I am sure, will be horrible, but I think we are less than 30 miles away as the crow flies.  My hope, too, is to see my Aunt Leslie, who lives in Yorba Linda, CA.  Maybe we will get to the San Gabriel Mountains, the Santa Monica Pier, and the beach, too.

A lot of ground to cover, so let's go.