The World Series comes to Minnesota

There’s nothing much better than watching a World Series baseball game in August.

Say what?

That’s right.  This month, the Twin Cities and the Minnesota Twins hosted the Reviving Baseball in Inner cities (RBI) World Series.  The tournament wraps up today with the junior and senior boys’ championship games at Target Field.  Because coordinating the Twins’ RBI support is one of Josh’s job duties for his work in the team’s front office, I’ve gotten an inside look at the tournament this summer.

This week, 16 teams from inner cities around the United States (plus the Dominican Republic and Venezuela) made up of kids ages 13-18 played several baseball games per day in St. Paul and Minneapolis.  They had team education sessions, spent time at the Mall of America, and stepped onto the grass at Target Field early in the week, giving each young player a chance to wonder if he and his teammates might be the lucky ones to play on the same grass this weekend for the title. The kids each have to write an essay about facing adversity before they arrive, and at the opening banquet, a winner is announced, as well as several college scholarship winners. At the banquet, the kids got to hear from Hall of Famer (and former Twin) Paul Molitor, and another local legend, Dave Winfield, spoke at the closing dinner. It’s a lot of work and planning for all parties involved: the Twins, the Major League Baseball and RBI crew in town, the volunteers, and the coaches.

But I went to a game yesterday to watch the junior Dominican Republic team take on  Houston, and I was reminded that part of what makes an event successful is when it doesn’t look like hard work.  The focus was simply on the kids and their games.  The well-organized games were motoring along, staff were exchanging score updates via Nextel radios, and it all looked like smooth sailing to me.  Someone walking past the fields wouldn’t be able to tell it was anything different than a regular evening of baseball—and on the surface from the stands, it looked that way, too. 

There was a spark to the game, though, that made the night extra-special.  These boys had all traveled a long way to Minnesota, and they wanted wins, bad.  From the Dominican-Houston diamond, I could hear the New York and Detroit dugout chants on the next field over. As the Dominican team put together a convincing win, the boys were hollering advice and encouragement in Spanish to their teammates on base, and the Houston fans and coaches were cheering their boys to stay in the game.  The sun sank low in the sky, the Dominican boys won, and both teams lingered on the field after pictures to chat.

It was good baseball--and it was pure baseball in the best possible way: kids from every background imaginable playing their hearts out on a warm summer night.  During a month when the Twins are struggling on the major league field, it’s a reminder about how special the game can be—and I’m not talking about monster home runs and dazzling Web Gems.

This program is making strides small and large in inner city communities all over the world.  If you’re reading this on Sunday morning, go check out the championship games and cheer on RBI’s good work.

Travels

Ho ho!  As you read this, I'm somewhere in the air en route to northern California for the weekend, not tapping away at my keyboard--but thanks to Blogger's magic, I have scheduled a post in my absence!

Earlier this week, I looked at the books in my bookcase to pick one to bring on the plane, in case I either finish Little Bee and The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake on my Kindle or they don't click for me.  Avid readers (book readers, not Miles and Laurel readers) can empathize with me when I confess that this task yielded a stack of books on my nightstand.  

One of them was 1,000 Places to See Before You Die, an encyclopedia grouped by region that breaks down the world's most magnificent travel destinations into 200-word blurbs. The global section was too expansive to even begin sifting through, so that night, I perused the U.S. listings.  Like anyone with employment experience in college admissions, I have a motley mix of states under my belt.  I've been fortunate to be in unforgettable places like Cape Cod, Mount Rainier, and a New Hampshire blueberry patch because of work travel.  

I was alarmed to learn, though, that despite seven or eight work trips to Connecticut in five years, I somehow missed all four of the recommended 1,000 Places sights.  I've also never actually been to Minnesota's only recommended spot, the Boundary Waters.  Minnesota's lone entry is nothing compared to New York City, for example, which garnered 11 pages worth of recommendations alone, or the Hawaii section, which had five entries for five islands. 

Bottom line: By perusing the 973-page book, I learned that I haven't really checked off much of the country, let alone the world.  But there's time!  I'm also optimistic because during my next trip to California later this month, I have the chance to investigate two listings: the Monterey Peninsula (p. 577) and California Wine Country (p. 583).  Finally, this is not some sort of Julie/Julia project that calls for working my way through the whole book, which would probably require me to be jobless but also somehow still be in possession of a lot of money. 

Isn't it always fun to dream about travel, though?

Here are five places I have visited that 1,000 Places insists on checking out, in no meaningful order whatsoever:

Outside Grand Central

• the Las Vegas Strip: I haven't experienced the strip in the intended way, but I'll never forget my only (so far) visit there.  I had a layover in Las Vegas and decided to lug my little wheely carry-on suitcase toward a taxi and head over to the strip.  It was no later than 8:30 in the morning, and I just walked up and down the strip, wheely carry-on in tow.  It was very sunny and that there were very few people on the streets, although the folks who were out had not been in for the night yet.  It was a bizarre way to experience such an iconic scene.
• New York City: So far, my visits have been limited to strange, crunched half-days on either side of workweeks in the region.  When I saw the city for the first time in 2006, I took the train in from the suburbs and walked around for a long time, completely without direction.  Since then, I have visited the Museum of Natural History, taken a running tour around Manhattan and Brooklyn, and dined with friends.  My work travel to the region is done, so I should schedule a real trip sometime.
• Aspen: I've landed here twice for work.  The drive from Denver is incredible (and incredibly winding, and sometimes incredibly scary, depending on the angle of a switchback and whether it is snowing).  My last visit coincided with peak aspen leaf-changing season, so the whole landscape was lit up in fiery yellow.  This area is worth its spot on the list for sure.
• Freedom Trail: Josh and I traveled to Maine last summer for a wedding and spent about 15 hours in Boston afterward.  Seeing the Freedom Trail listed in 1,000 Places made me smile because I remembered walking the trail in miserable pouring rain and cold wind that kept flipping my umbrella.  I love New England's depth of history and would jump at the chance to visit Boston again in weather that allowed lingering along the trail.
• San Juan Islands and Pike Place Market: Yes, we checked off both of these last month!  If they weren't in the book, I would've gotten out of bed, stomped on it, and then thrown it out the window right then and there.

Aspen leaves in early October

Now let's get to the good stuff.

Five places on my wishlist, in no meaningful order:

• Attending the Albuquerque Balloon Festival has been a longtime dream.  I am drawn to beautiful colors all mashed together (see: all of my cloud and sky pictures), and I can't imagine a sight much prettier than bright balloons against a blue sky.
• Savannah's Historic District: I am developing a deep interest in southern cities.  You'll read more about this in coming months.
• The French Quarter in New Orleans: See above. I would like to listen to music here, look at the architecture, and get a feel for the New Orleans spirit--and eat the beignets.
• Acadia National Park is way, way up the Maine coast, and from what I've heard, it sounds like one of the most glorious places in the country.  There is also a marathon there called the Mount Desert Island Marathon, which is supposed to be very hard but is on my life's wishlist.
• (tie) the Great Smoky Mountains and the Outer Banks, North Carolina: I signed on for an Outing Club backpacking trip to the Great Smoky Mountains during spring break of my senior year, but a surprise late winter blizzard rerouted our group to the Ouachita Mountains in Arkansas.  Don't get me wrong: those mountains in Arkansas are surprisingly beautiful.  But I would love to spend a trip hiking in North Carolina.  And then sitting on the beach in North Carolina.

What's on your wishlist, Reader?  

If you won two round-trip flights in the continental United States, Carmen San Diego-style, where would you go?

Shake it up

This week in St. Paul has been my kind of August.  The high temperatures have been in the upper 70s, the humidity and dew points have retreated sheepishly, and the breeze has been wonderful and laced with almost-fall.  I had to snap a photo as I was walking around St. Paul yesterday because at this time of year, the sky really is that blue and the clouds really are so puffy that they look cartoonish.  The only sky that comes close to Minnesota's in August is Colorado, where the color is always a rich, rich blue every time I visit--and the sky seems bigger on the plains there, too.

Anyone who knows me knows I'm no night owl.  In fact, I'm just lousy at staying up late.  I'm also lousy at sleeping late in the morning but need copious blocks of sleep, so that drives my bedtime earlier.  Before I go on and make myself sound like even more of a wet blanket, I'll get to the point.  If I can fight my internal clock tonight, I'm going to stay up late and watch the Perseid meteor shower, which peaks today and is one of the best meteor showers all year.  Astronomy is another long-time hidden love of mine, and I have a strange hodge-podge of constellation and planetary fun facts stored up thanks to Dayton Elementary's library.  I've only actually seen the meteor shower once, when we were on a family vacation way up north a long time ago, and it was amazing.  Tonight, I would like to drive out to the country far suburbs and check it out.

Yesterday, dangerously toeing the boundary of my non-night-owlness, I ventured out of my comfort zone and went to a play on a weeknight.  The Minnesota Fringe Festival runs just through this weekend, so I was running out of time to see my friend Isabel's play, Red Resurrected.  I grabbed a ticket to the 8:30 p.m. show and headed over to The Lab Theater in Minneapolis's Warehouse District.  I got there early, in time to wander around a neighborhood that I rarely explore and then in time to get way, way at the back of the line of theatergoers after my walk.

Here are the views from my walk--the Minneapolis skyline and the Mississippi River:

The Fringe Festival is something I've had on my should-attend list for at least three years, but this was my first show, and I had no idea what to expect.  I've heard people describe the festival as a wide spectrum of real hits and, well, real misses, and Isabel's play was a real hit.  I'm no theater critic, but Isabel is super-talented, I got completely drawn into the hour-long play, and the music and stage and acting was beautiful.  There you have it: go see it this weekend!

Next: I have been bouncing off the walls this week because I'm flying to California tomorrow morning for a weekend with my wonderful friend Nat.  Nat is getting married in three weeks!  I've seen her regularly enough since graduation because I've taken annual work trips to her part of the world, but my work schedule during those trips limited our face time to a short lunch every year. That's not enough!  I am so excited to spend a whole weekend with her (and her fiancé too!).

Last but not least, I had a Cherry Dilly Bar yesterday, and I think it changed my life.

Cat Programme

Cat Programme is a Life Idea I conceived years ago.  It's a television show that would chronicle the secret nocturnal adventures of cats, who seem so innocent and sedate by day.  You'd never guess some of the messes they'd get into, right?  I believe that they cause a whole lot more trouble than anyone would ever imagine.

So Cat Programme (British spelling, please) would involve attaching cameras to cats' heads--ideally, on little cat head-sized helmets--thus documenting officially what cats actually do while we're asleep. A critical component of the show would be the reveal, when cat owners would watch the footage and usually be alarmed.

Show host: So, what do you think your cat normally does at night?
Owner: Well, I'd say he probably sleeps, walks around our home slowly, jumps onto the couch...
Host: LET'S GO TO THE VIDEO!
Owner, watching in shock: Oh my goodness!

That's Cat Programme in a nutshell.  Perhaps because of lack of funding and logistics related to keeping a helmet on a cat's head, the idea never got off the ground. But I've always kept the show concept in mind fondly.  Last weekend, I was at home, and my mom showed me a page ripped out of the July 31 Parade magazine that's mixed in with the Sunday circulars.

Dusty is a perfect candidate for Cat Programme:

The copy reads: "Dusty, the so-called Klepto Kitty (shown on the prowl in his San Mateo, Calif. neighborhood), has pilfered more than 600 items in the past few years, including lingerie, swim trunks, and towels."

Mostly, I had to post this picture because for a section of an image rendered practically useless by a flash, Dusty's eyes sure say an awful lot.  Dusty is a cat on a mission. He is not bothered in the least by having his crimes captured on film--and dare I say, he is downright irritated by the interruption. 

We should all live our lives so boldly--but unlike Dusty, of course, try to stay within the parameters of the law.

Roll out

Here is a post about how I found myself sitting on my bedroom floor, warbling an Adele song in the dark--all because of a fabulous, understated piece of fitness equipment.

I adore my foam roller, and as my running mileage piles up over the years, its value creeps higher and higher.  If you don't love them yet, you've probably at least seen piles of them at the gym. The basic idea is that you can use it to work through tight muscles in a way that I find much more painful effective than normal stretching.  People use it for everything: shoulders, calves, quads, glutes.  (There are loads of youtube videos to demonstrate.) I love it for my hamstrings and always-too-tight calves.  Someone else in my household has been known to massage his back with the roller in front of the TV.  I read once somewhere that many elite runners allocate 30 minutes per day on the foam roller.  Obviously, I'm not in that company, but it sure would be nice.

A foam roller is nothing fancy and pretty self-explanatory: a big piece of tough foam, between one and three feet long. In case you wanted to get a visual of the size difference in a not-to-size graphic, I will share the following image.  You can thank me in the comment section.

Credit to PerformBetter.com

This is a good time to add a disclaimer about the images used in this post, which are all courtesy of a Google image search.  I don't endorse any of the websites one way or the other--but most of the links will just lead to online foam roller shopping bonanzas.

But if you're ever in need of a laugh, I recommend a Google image search--not even necessarily about foam rollers, although these results in particular are priceless.  Typing in "foam roller" yields 400,000 images, ranging from very helpful tutorial snapshots to a lone image of a shirtless man in pale-wash blue jeans and no foam roller in sight.  A picture of Mighty Mouse was also among the results--completely unrelated to foam rollers, but sometimes I do feel like Mighty Mouse after I roll.

I never manage to look as cool as the woman on the right or as serious as the man on the left, though:

Credit to WSports

Credit to Squidoo

I also limit my rolling mostly to the living room in my home. But if I ever do want to tote my roller around town, I know where to go.

Credit to Exercise.com

I haven't taken my fascination beyond the entry-level roller.  The next roller upgrade (seen below) terrifies me.  It's like a stegosaurus roller.

Credit to Exertools.com

Last Christmas, my brother had his very own foam roller waiting for him under the tree, and he quickly became a fellow roller aficionado.  We share a strange sense of humor and thought it was hilarious to generate an encouraging playlist for using the foam roller. 

Here it is so far:

• "Roll out" by Ludacris, featuring the timeless chorus, "Roll out! Roll out! Roll out! Roll out!"
• "Rolling on the river," by Creedence Clearwater Revival
• "Rollin'" by Limp Bizkit, featuring the timeless chorus, "Keep rollin' rollin' rollin' rollin'"

I think you see where this is going, unfortunately.  Last night, my hamstrings were really in need of the foam roller, but I forgot about it, started reading a book in bed, and had just turned out the light.  I remembered and popped out of bed to sit on the floor, lights off, for just a minute to roll out my calves.  And honestly, I don't know how I made it this far in the summer without adding Adele to the playlist.  But I yelled my realization to Josh and then, as if that weren't enough for my poor boyfriend, starting singing, badly, "Rolling in the daaaaaaAAAAAaaaarrrk."  

It wasn't my shining moment in life.  My legs felt a heck of a lot better, though.