Non Compos Mentis

So I'm meeting with a client today who brought her small child,an adorable blonde moppet in thick glasses and a bright orange T-shirt.  This happens, because people are human and humans don't always have time to find babysitters before they have to run to their lawyers' offices.  (By the way, I am not a lawyer, I am a paralegal.)  And I walk into the conference room, and this li'l moppet, who is sitting on the floor looking out the window, gets up, turns around, looks at me, and points.  In a voice loud enough to shatter the hermetically sealed glass, she/he announces, "LOCO!!" and does the crazy gesture, hand near temple and twirling furiously.  Pronouncement made, the moppet sits back down and becomes absorbed in traffic on the far-below freeway.

Why these things always have to happen in front of my boss, I have no idea.  

Anyway, mom is apologizing all over the place, and saying to the moppet that he/she better apologize, and I'm saying it's nothing, really, and my boss is trying to get this meeting started, and the moppet is ignoring everybody, and I'm wishing I could go back to my cube and hide under my desk.  I knew I'd get outed at work sooner or later, but by a four-year-old?  Yes, okay, a four-year-old who's an astute judge of character.  But still.  There's something about being called crazy when you actually are crazy that makes you feel much crazier than you are when you're, I dunno, sitting in your psychiatrist's waiting room watching the fish, or counting out the weekly meds, or trying to decide whether or not you have to tell your therapist about the altercation with the parking garage attendant, or any number of other things that might signify actual craziness.  

It kind of put a damper on what was otherwise a pretty good week.  First there was that whole three-day-weekend thing, and then it's a short work week.  And as y'all know, my favorite band has a new album out, and I have it and it's really good!  Mike Peters is singing, but it really doesn't matter; from the opening guitar chords, it's instantly recognizable. "Oh yeah, that's Big Country."  The song "Another Country" is going to be the big hit in America, if there's to be a big hit in America.  (And the sad thing is, I probably won't know, because I don't listen to the popular radio stations; heck, I don't even know what they are.)  And then I find out that they're doing a world tour. World as in not just Europe but also the U.S. and Canada.  And yes, Virginia, they're coming to Texas.  Austin, Texas, to be exact, at a club called the Belmont on July 13.  I have tickets already.  Bought them on my phone; how's that for living in the 21st century?  

So I got the tix and I booked a room and made arrangements to drive down and invited some friends, and two days later, Big Country announced a gig in Dallas.  Gee, thanks, boys.  Good timing, there.  Not that it will kill me to see them two nights in a row.  Heck, I could drive to Houston the day before Austin and make it three nights in a row, if I really felt like it.  Do the Trans-Texas Corridor. My boss is from Houston; I can probably ask him where 18307 Egret Bay Boulevard is, and he'll say something like "Well, normally I'd tell women to stay out of that neighborhood, but seeing as you're loco..."

And while all that was going on, the mighty Law Dogs got rained out.

I kid you not.  We had eight softball games scheduled this season and five of them got rained out, including tonight, which was supposed to be the make-up game for one that got rained out.  It's not even like it's been an especially wet spring; it's just that every Thursday, practically like clockwork, it started pouring rain about two-ish and kept up until the ball field was underwater.  It seems that the field is on a downslope, so this is bound to happen if there's enough rain.  There were two games where we got rained out the day before.  

But, when we did get to play, the team was a lot stronger than last year.  We scored higher, ran faster, hit harder and fielded better.  We pulled ahead in two games, and one we even thought we had some hope of winning.  It didn't happen, but just wait'll next year.  Yours truly got two base hits, made it to second once, and got tagged out quite a few times (but in order to get tagged out, you have to hit the ball, and--yeah.)  I only fell down the once.  It was pretty impressive, but I never did it again.  And I somehow escaped serious injury, although I have an assortment of ball-shaped bruises pretty much everywhere from the double header we played on Tuesday.  (I'm the catcher.  Somebody should have explained to me that you catch the ball with whatever's handy, which is hardly ever the actual glove.)  

Last thing: I'm at Afrah, and it appears that they're tearing down the building next door.  Could a new Afrah be in the works?  I think it's entirely possible.  Hm. Maybe with belly dancers.  One can hope.