A long night at the ballpark

After the vacation, the kids and I have been getting reacquainted, sometimes more than others since Cate has been working a lot this past week. And when an opportunity to get four Twins tickets dropped into my lap pretty late in the week, I decided to take them out.

Colleen had never been to Target Field and we hadn't been to a baseball game all together since last year's incredible trip to Wrigley Field. We had the ability to get there really early, as well, as it was the start of a holiday weekend, and do some things none of us had been able to do at our new ballpark.

We've always had the opportunity to look at this wonderful glove sculpture just outside the ballpark but never had a chance to get pictures taken with it because the line is usually pretty long. But not when you show up at 5:15 for a 7:10 game.

Robert forgot to put on his Joe Mauer jersey, but in the end, it didn't matter -- Mauer went 3-for-4 and Robert had a great time. But that came much, much later.

Robert and Elizabeth filled Colleen in on one of their Target Field tips: the great chicken fingers. So they had chicken fingers and fries while the Brewers (boo!) were still taking batting practice. I have always looked longingly at the Kramarczuk's stand, selling locally made brats and sausages, but they are very popular and the line is also usually long. But not that early in the day, so I had the best ballpark bratwurst I've ever tasted. Also, somehow by the luck of the draw (how do we keep meeting people at Twins games?) I saw a former co-worker walking down the concourse while we were eating and recognized him, although neither of us could remember the other's name.

About 30 minutes before the game, they pulled the tarp out to cover the field, prompting groans and boos. But Robert had already pointed out the clouds approaching, so we were prepared. Our seats were under the overhang, lower deck, left field, but we decided to move back anyway and wait out the first wave of rain.

The second wave (like white-out, Elizabeth says) was stronger and we walked out into the concourse. Robert and Elizabeth both asked when we could go home (my response: when the game is over!) but Colleen just rolled with it, sitting on my lap. We had fun communicating with a little girl standing in front of us -- I asked Colleen if she thought the girl was four, Colleen thought five. We were both wrong. I caught her eye and held up four fingers to her with a quizzical look on my face, but the girl shook her head and held up three. So cute!

We'd been at the ballpark for about four hours before the game finally started at 9:11, two hours late. And Robert made a friend, too -- a man in his 20s next to us chatted with Robert all night, showing him stuff about the game, telling him about the Brewers, chatting about nerf guns, the Brewers' stadium roof and the like. I thanked him profusely for putting up with Robert, and he said he coaches high school cross country, so he's used to it. I'm pretty sure there's a big difference between a 14-year-old and a 9-year old, though!

Colleen the 6-year-old at a game was a bit different than Robert the 6-year-old was. But she was very into whatever everyone was cheering about. Admittedly, with three kids with me instead of one, I didn't give her as much individual attention as Robert got at our ballgame around that age, but she certainly screamed loud at appropriate times, sang every word of Take Me Out to the Ballgame, and only once asked me when it would be over. But late in the game, she put her head on my lap and went to sleep for a while.

So it was a late night, but thankfully the Twins won. We got to see Jim Thome hit his 594th career homer. In fact, as Thome came up in the bottom of the first with Mauer and Michael Cuddyer on base and two out, I was thinking, "We better score here, or we might not score all night." As Thome's ball went over the fence, I saw the guy next to us, a Brewers fan, shaking his head. When I asked him about it later, he said it was because, "there are only three hitters in the lineup who can hurt us, and they just did."

Final: 6-2 Twins. We walked in the door about 12:15 a.m.

Cousins Group Photo, sort of

Every August since moving to Minnesota the cousins have posed for an official photo. I think I'll leave the photography to Neil or Patrick because this is what happened when I tried. Sigh.

One more step to full Minnesotahood

We got a little closer to being fully Minnesotan today as we (read: Cate) registered the Honda and got Minnesota plates on it. So now both cars have Minnesota plates.

Cate likes the irony that I'm the only one still carrying a Virginia driver's license. I also still have a 703- number on my cellphone. But I did have a Minnesota driver's license once, and, there's still that whole thing of having a house in Virginia. We're getting close to being rid of that, too.

Robert helped me put the plates on the car, and yes, I blurred out the license number.

Life behind the wheel

It was 1,262 miles for me to get from Sterling to Minneapolis (and 1,220 for Cate to do the same, thanks to our odometers). Plenty was seen and much was remembered. More was forgotten, though, I'm sure.

Five years ago we drove to Minneapolis for vacation with just two kids in the back seat, Elizabeth, 5-1/2, and Robert, 1. At the end of that trip I turned to Cate and said, "the next time we drive to Minneapolis, it's going to be one way."

And this was it: No return trip coming.

Cellphone camera leaves a lot to be desired, so here's my pathetic attempt at documenting the journey.

Our preferred way to leave Virginia is over the Point of Rocks bridge on U.S. 15. The sign as you depart, however, is fairly understated.

Maryland is a little more glad to see you.

I only wish we could have gone 55 mph on I-70 when we entered Pennsylvania.

This was the view for much of the next two hours, however -- the back of Cate's car or one of a bunch of others. Turned out that after 70 was reduced to one lane, there was an accident, blocking traffic entirely and backing us up more than six miles. We were going 14 minutes per mile for a while.

I am almost always driving the Pennsylvania Turnpike at night. During the daytime it's almost pretty in spots.

We also entered and left West Virginia and entered Ohio, but that was after dark.

Actual PODS containers being moved! Not ours, however.


Yay, Indiana. The halfway point was here somewhere.

Some time after Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me! faded out, we escaped Hoosierland.

We passed a pair of vintage cars in Illinois. Or maybe Indiana. Or Iowa. No, definitely Illinois.

Took us a long time to get through Illinois. We stopped for lunch and then had some panicky moments where gas stations were few and far between.

Final destination. Or final border stop anyway. After a bathroom break and a hail storm we finally got to Minneapolis, after 11 p.m. Not much of a sign on U.S. 52 after crossing the border into Minnesota.