So Barry Bonds hit #70 yesterday. I’m happy for him, and rooting for him to break the record in the last three games of the season. I know people have issues with his personality, but come on, he is a great baseball player. McGwire was, and still is, only a home run hitter. He has 56 hits this year, 29 of them long balls. This year when he’s not rounding the bases, he’s stuggling to raise his pitiful .190 batting average. Bonds, on the other hand, does just about everything well. You gotta give a man credit for that.
So I’m home for the day. I love how my weekends begin at noon on Fridays. Nick and I took a picture in front of the church for Curt’s birthday present, then headed to Breakers for lunch and reading the newspaper. I love reading the newspaper! Ahhh. Anyway, we then put together the present and I headed home. I’m glad I did — as soon as I walked in, I remembered why I had wanted to come home instead of hanging out in Crothers all afternoon. That reason? I have a pile of laundry the size of Rhode Island in my room.
