Tuesday, July 31, 2007
It's about blogging and what it does (or apparently does not!) add to our culture.
Somebody the other day asked me if I didn't think blogging was a narcissistic waste of time. Obviously, I don't think that, otherwise I wouldn't be doing it. When I started, I was just looking for a way to improve my writing and tell some of the stories I had picked up just from living here, but I also discovered some great blogs as I surfed around. Maybe it's just the archaeologist-historian in me, but I think everyone has a story to tell, and most of you tell it incredibly well. Some of you were and are writers by trade, but some of you are metal workers, nurses, moms, dads, regular people telling incredible stories about yourselves and your lives.
This article is a bit cynical, and it makes a point, but this guy has obviously never read any of you. If he did, he might be a bit hopeful.
Oh, and a quick side note, the program director at the classic rock station I worked on last week has decided I do, indeed, need to have my picture on the website. I hemmed and hawed and then he told me he could put a picture of Paris Hilton in my place. I told him if he put my name underneath a picture of the walking hazardous waste pit, I'd quit. So, I get to have "my picture made", as they say here in the south.
Monday, July 30, 2007
And I'm not particularly angry today, really, but I've been tagged for a meme about things that annoy, provoke, anger, perturb and bother you. (Why, yes, I have recently bought a thesaurus!)
I was tagged for a "Moaning Meme" by mjd over at Return of the White Robin. Go over and see her if you haven't yet, she always has the coolest pictures.
4 things that should go into Room 101 (see Orwell's 1984) and be removed from the face of the earth.
- Crappy drivers
3 things people do that make you want to shake them violently.
- Animal cruelty
- Serving me okra
- Child abuse
2 things you find yourself moaning about.
- These rotten kids today, with their loud music, and their strange ways
1 thing the above answers tell you about yourself
- That I obviously hate okra, and that I didn't take this very seriously. (Oops, that's two, I don't follow directions, either.)
I'm not going to tag anyone specifically here, because half of the people that read are on vacation! So, if you stop by, you can leave a list in the comments section if you so desire....
• Link to the original meme at freelancecynic.com!
• Be as honest as possible so people get to know the real you!
• Try not to insult anyone - unless they really deserve it or are very, very ugly!
• Post these rules at the end of every meme.
And now, I'm off to work afternoon drive for two different people this week. Today, our "Top 40/Hot AC" station, where I get to talk to lots of 12-year-olds who want to do "shout-outs" to their friends.
Friday, July 27, 2007
It's the best Billy Wilder film ever made, and if you've never seen it, you need to rent/download it NOW. It stars Jack Lemmon, Tony Curtis and Marilyn Monroe. It also has the best ending line in a movie, too: "Well, nobody's perfect."
This is a Marx Brothers classic. Someone once said there are two types of people in the world: Three Stooges Fans and Marx Brothers Fans. I admit to being in the latter camp. The movie has it's typically thin Marx Bros. plot, but most of their films were like that. It was their act that made their films soar, and I love this one. It was also the first Marx Bros. film without Zeppo. Which was just fine with me.
Does this really need any explanation? Oh, all right. It was watching this movie for the umpteenth time (but this time, as an adult), that I finally understood why millions of women and Lauren Bacall swooned for Humphrey Bogart. It's got a great last line, too, but my earlier assertion about Some Like it Hot still stands.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
First, the radio stuff. jrh, from Turkey on Whole Wheat, was nice enough to say this: "I believe you greatly underestimate your appeal, my friend..." and it was in response to this : "If you actually knew what I looked like you might not be so quick to call." While I appreciate the compliment, dear, what I said still holds and this is why:
I will never look how people expect me to look.
It is the way radio is, but it I think it's worse for women. No matter where I've gone, no matter what jobs I've done, I always get the same reply, even from people who work in the business:
"You don't look like what I imagined."
And then it's followed by something like this (these are just a sampling of some that I've heard)
I thought you'd be taller.
I thought you'd be blond.
I pictured you as a red head.
I thought you'd be thinner (!)
I thought your hair would be longer.
I thought your hair would be shorter.
I pictured you as a brunette (when I had red hair).
Usually, they're all saying the same thing (especially if they're guys): "I pictured a six-foot tall swimsuit model wearing a bikini standing behind the microphone". I once had an intern say those very words to me. And I am none of those things.
I'm 5'6", I weigh more than 150 lbs, I wear jeans and t-shirts (not bikinis!), my butt is a little on a the ample side, and I favour Converse high top running shoes in various bizarre colours. I occasionally wear heels, but generally not to work. Not when I have to stand for fours hours. And this doesn't mean I think I'm hideous, I just don't look like Pam Anderson or whatever fantasy babe our listeners have in their head.
So I think maybe putting me on our website might be a good thing, because then it would shatter whatever preconceived notion people have of me, and I wouldn't feel like I'm disappointing our listeners every time I meet them.
Okay! Now on to this story...
Oscar the Cat is the Angel of Death. No really. There's a story about it here, although you may have already seen this somewhere else. It's a little uncanny, but I also think it's nice, especially since he's apparently not a people cat. I always liked the idea of animals working in hospice care, but then, I like animals.
And speaking of the animals, we've discovered that Chloe has an intestinal buggy. It's called Spirometra erinacei (don't read that if you're just having a meal, really). It can eventually turn into a tapeworm thing. It's actually fairly rare (our vet said he sees a case maybe once a year). How did she get it? By eating an "aquatic animal", such as a frog, or a lizard. She's going to be fine, but I'm left wondering how the hell a cat who's been in a shelter for six months could eat a frog or a lizard!
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Monday, July 23, 2007
So, I had to go in search of another hair stylist. I tried to call a few, but unfortunately, we moved at the height of prom season, and I couldn't get an appointment to save my life. I ended up going to a place in the mall, and the woman didn't listen to anything I said. I wasn't happy. So, the search continued. Then my husband suggested this little place in Rincon (the town we're closest to) that he went to, to get his hair cut. He wears his hair very short, so I figured they at least knew how to cut hair short. So I went, and I was very happy.
So, I got to feeling bold this past week after my haircut, and talked to my stylist about highlights. She thought some blond streaks would be good, and I agreed, so I went back in Thursday afternoon.
However, it was hotter than hell in that salon. Did I mention they don't have central air conditioning, and that it was 98 degrees Fahrenheit outside? Oh, that's about 37 degrees Celsius for my friends outside the U.S. They had two window units for the whole house. So, here I was , my head wrapped in plastic, a plastic cape wrapped around my neck and covering my body, and I was headed to sit under the big dryer, which was located in the back of the house on an enclosed porch, with very little insulation.
I am so grateful to Jessica for fixing my hair, and doing it with a smile on her face. She put it back to it's original colour, but better, because now that I've washed it a few times and been out in the sun, the parts that were originally bleached are lighter than the darker parts of my hair, so it actually looks like I have natural highlights now.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Thursday, July 19, 2007
I did manage to get my driver's license yesterday, and I owe a big apology to everyone who lives here by assuming that y'all would be as insensitive as the folks who work for the DMV in South Carolina. The people who work at the Georgia Department of Driver Services are lovely,pleasant, helpful, and didn't say "boo" about my Green Card. The only hitch is that they will only issue one year licenses to folks who have a Green Card issued prior to 1990, which the lately nicely and logically explained. I'm okay with that, doesn't bother me to come back every year to get it renewed. The picture wasn't half bad either. I'll write about it a bit more later. I'm off to have my hair highlighted today, I'm feeling very brave and lucky, so why not?
In place of a regular post, I thought we could try something that Willow Tree does, when he's too lazy to write anything *grin*. I'll give you a sentence, and you all can write a story/poem/whatever in the comments. I give you the first line, then you guys continue with each comment. Your regularly scheduled Friday Five will occur tomorrow.
"There was a little girl, who had a little curl...."
So, let's see where that story takes us!
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
So, she's given me a Rockin' Blogger award ( I always wanted to be a rock chick, no really!), and she's also given me a :
And yes, I'll get around to passing these on, I swear. Once I uncurl from the fetal position under my desk. Now, back to your regularly scheduled posting.
Mike from Ordinary Folk who designed the award says, "Schmoozing as defined by Dictionary.com is the ability “to converse casually, especially in order to gain an advantage or make a social connection." I think I agree with Mya that this definition makes all of us award winners sound a bit like slimy ass-kissers. She says it's really meant to be warmer, and nicer, more of a "getting-ready-to-meet-new-people" kind of thing. And since I've been given this award, I tend to agree. I think I'm supposed to pass it on to five more people, but I'm going to wait a week, just to be a pain in the ass, and because all of us seem to be winning the same awards.
On a completely unrelated note: the cats. We still haven't heard anything, and the Humane Society worker we talked to yesterday (after she dropped her snotty attitude) said she'd just love to let us adopt Zoe and Chloe, but her supervisor is a real stickler for complete forms. My husband told her that if her supervisor has an issue she can call us. It's not looking good. However, we can always adopt from another rescue group. I'd be happy to have them do a home visit if I thought it would help. I could also just go hang out in the city for half an hour and take the first cat that followed me home (and I mean the four-legged kind!).
And finally, why is it that on crayon boxes they always print "NON-TOXIC CRAYONS"? Does that mean there's someone out there actually selling toxic crayons? And if they were, does anyone think they'd tell us? I mean, would they print "GENUINE TOXIC CRAYONS" on the boxes? I could just see the advertising campaign now: 'Genuine toxic crayons, guaranteed to grow you a third eye, burn through skin, and contaminate your bloodstream, or your money back. Assuming you survive."
Right, that's enough rambling. I think I'll go polish my awards.
Monday, July 16, 2007
I have been putting off the necessary for about a month now. I have to go get a Georgia driver's license.
I'm convinced that if Hell really existed, it would look a lot like a driver's license office. Pea green walls, nasty posters exhorting you to be a better demon (or driver, take your pick), and scary looking women peering at you from the counter while you wait in long lines, like cattle for slaughter.
Okay, maybe it's not that bad. My husband went and got his a few weeks ago and said everyone was lovely and nice. But my husband doesn't carry a Green Card. Now, I don't look or sound any different from any of the yokels around here, except maybe I don't pronounce vowels with extra syllables. However, the law says I have to show my Green Card when applying for a driver's license, so I do, because I'm the law abiding type. The last time I had to do this in the DEEP south, I had to call the office of the Governor of South Carolina, because I got accused of carrying a fake document.
Back then, I had a radio show to talk about it on. And I got a lot of quick calls back from the government over my complaint. I just worry I'm going to go through the same conversation again this time.
Me: Hi, I need to get a driver's license, here is my Resident Alien card.
Crabby Woman: This isn't real, it has no expiration date.
Me: Check the date it was issued. It was issued prior to 1990. Those cards don't have expiration dates on them.
Crabby Woman: What are you, some kind of terrorist?
This was just after 9-11, folks.
Me: Lady, I've waited in line for over an hour, and I'm showing you proper documentation, what the hell kind of terrorist do you think I'm likely to be?
CW: Well, I can't process this. I don't think you illegals should have a license, and I'm tired of you people thinking you can scam the government. You should go back to where you came from.
Me: I'll swim back to Canada just as soon as the ice floes break up. Where is your supervisor?
CW: I AM the supervisor, you need to leave this office, before I call the police.
I was so stinking mad and more than a little humiliated, but I was also a little panicky. What if I needed to get a new green card? I called INS. And after being transferred to four different people (one of whom asked me if I need a translator!), I finally got someone who's answer was this:
"Aw, Jesus, I hate these local idiots, thinking they're saving the world. What's your nationality?"
When I told him I was a Canadian, he laughed, said there was nothing wrong, and I should go back and get my license. No such luck. I went back and another person told me that unless I had a Green Card with an expiration date, she couldn't process my paper work.
So, I called the Governor's office, and let fly. I was so angry at this point. A moron with six DUIs can still get a license, but I just might be a terrorist because I don't have an expiration date, so no license for me. I then went on my radio show and told the town about it. Of course, we probably only had three hundred people listening, but it made me feel better.
Eventually, I got my license, by going to the main office in Charleston, after some official from the state called down there. There were no problems, no issues, and the scary looking woman behind the counter even told me to have a nice day.
So, here I go, worrying that the person behind the counter won't know what a Permanent Resident Alien card is, wondering if I'm going to get hauled off to jail for looking suspicious and not having an expiration date.
Wish me luck.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
To write about 5 of your favouite restaurants/eating places.
*Link to the person who tagged you. (Click Jo's name up above, or in my blog roll)
*Include the state and country you live in.
*List top five favorite local restaurants.
*Tag five other people and let them know they’ve been tagged
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Speaking of prizes:
Jo Beaufoix has given me an award!!!
"The Thoughtful Blogger Award is one of five distinct awards in a series of awards created by Writers Reviews' intuitive, creative and most thoughtful blogger herself, Christy Zutautas. There is a specific description for each award listed here along with the award rules. Writers Reviews has created a way to honour the bloggers we admire in a personable way on an individual basis, that frees us to celebrate each blogs unique contribution.”
Or so it says on Jo's blog. I've never won an award for blogging before, and I feel honoured.
My task is now to give out five awards as well.
So, without further adieu...
mjd at Return of the White Robin gets a :
jrh at Turkey on Whole Wheat also gets a:
Robot Lord of Tokyo at 10001110101 gets a:
(They didn't have a smart ass award, sorry!)
Saphyre Rose at Sun and Moon Sorcery gets a:
Because she kicks ass.
And nate over at shut the kids up. gets a:
because his art is some of the most creative stuff I've seen.
There's my five, oh, and Jo also tagged me for a meme, but that'll have to wait until tomorrow! Sorry!
Friday, July 13, 2007
This Friday Five was inspired by a discussion my husband and I were having about the Sistine Chapel. Yes, we sometimes have strange discussions....oh, and all of these pieces have wiki links, just click on their names.
I always wished my first kiss was this enthralling. It's the woman's face in this one that gets me every time, the complete surrender to a kiss that's not even on her lips. Chaste, and intimate at the same time. I suppose they look a little like they're about to have a very naughty picnic.
I've always loved Van Gogh, and this is my favorite of his. I know he had vision problems, and some experts theorize that was why the stars look the way they do in so many of his paintings. I honestly don't care. I just love the way this scene always looks like it's on the move.
I've always liked Georgia O'Keeffe's way with bold colour and form. Anyone who knows me, knows I like red, although I never used to think it was one of my favourite colours. If someone wanted me to define red, I'd show them this painting.
My mom doesn't paint much anymore, but she did this one back in the late 1980's. I've carried it with me ever since and it's always been on a wall wherever I've gone. This picture doesn't do it justice, but you'll just have to believe me on this. I love the sunset colours, and I like the feeling of quiet this painting gives me. And that's all that matters, doesn't it?
Okay, that's it. Go on and post your five. I don't care if it's a masterpiece by da Vinci, or your five-year-old's crayon scrawl. Art is open to interpretation.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
We've decided to look for a pet, and no, for my regular readers, it will not be a goat.
These were my two cats, Grimmy and Puck. I got them during my sophomore year in college (you do the math!), and they both passed away last year, about seven months apart. They pre-dated my husband and my child, and moved all over the damn country with me, and I miss them terribly. Honestly, I'm not entirely sure I'm ready to go looking for love again.
But lately, The-Four-Year-Old has been saying she misses them, too. She's been drawing lots of pictures with her and the cats, and her and animals in general. That, and the adorable pictures of Willowtree's zoo has been getting me thinking of sharing my home with animals again. So, we've been looking.
At the moment, we've been trying to decide between a dog or a cat (or multiple dogs and cats), and we've been weighing the pros and cons of each.
Pros of getting a dog:
It poops outside.
We can take it to the beach and the park.
Dogs are loyal.
It can eat the roosters keeping me awake.
It can scare away the ducks and buzzards hanging out on my lawn.
It can chase off the neighbour's chihuahua that keeps pooping in my yard.
Pros of getting a cat:
Usually quieter than a dog.
Won't kill off the grass in my yard with it's urine
Won't bug me for walk at 4 a.m.
Generally, cat poop is smaller than dog poop.
Cats have a better chance of hiding from The Four Year Old.
Won't snort guests' butt or crotch.
I've leave it y'all to come up with the cons. Alright, I'm being a little facetious. I like both dogs and cats, but we're still having a tough time deciding. TFYO is a little nervous around dogs, but I think it's just because she's only lived with cats. We also still don't have a fence around our backyard, but that hasn't stopped our neighbours who let their beasts roam at will. At the moment I'm leaning towards a dog, maybe one on the smaller side (beagle or basset hound-ish).
Either way, our new family member will be coming from the local shelter. There's actually a ton of shelters and rescue leagues in this area, and they all hang out at the PetsMart in Savannah. We went last weekend, and there were probably four or five groups there, with animals in every aisle. I was lucky to get out of there without TFYO taking every dog and cat in the place with her. I think we're going to the Savannah-Chatham Humane Society this weekend. Wish me luck. I'll post pics here when we finally make up our minds, or an animal makes up it's mind for us.
Oh, and as Bob Barker says "Spay or neuter your pet!"
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Apparently, some guy in New Hampshire thought it would be a brilliant idea to rob a Citizen's Bank dressed as a tree.
Now either this guy was a sniper school reject, or he spent waaaaay too much time hanging out in the silk foliage department of his local WalMart. It takes camouflage to a whole new level. Looking at his picture I kind of get the feeling that he was that kid on Halloween dressed in the flowery bed sheet.
I suppose you could say he wasn't so much "armed" as "limbed". And I can't help but wonder if he asked the teller to "give him all the green". And if she told him to "make like a tree and leave".
My question is, what kind of town is Manchester, New Hampshire, that a tree walking into a bank is not something that draws the attention of the security guard? I mean, I'm all for freedom of expression, but if somebody walks into your bank deciduously dressed, don't you think they might be, just might be, up to no good?
I know we need to give our plants the benefit of the doubt. There would be nothing worse in my mind than profiling based on leaf shape, but unless it's in a pot, I would think a tree in a bank would stand out. I wonder if this means that all potted palms are barred from banks from now on. I don't know about you, but that maple in my front yard is starting to look awfully suspicious.
The best part of this story: the bank was on Elm Street.
Monday, July 9, 2007
My child is weird. There. I've said it. And I have no hesitation in saying it, because I know she gets a lot of it from my husband and me, and I think I'm okay with my weirdness, but there are times that I worry a little bit. Here are some examples why.
Now, I know every four-year-old is a picky eater at some point. However, it's not just that The-Four-Year-Old is picky, her tastes are bizarre. Until recently she refused to eat anything made with ground beef, buts eats blue cheese by the fistful. Her favorites are Gorgonzola, Danish Blue, and Maytag. TFYO even asks for it in the store. "Mom, I think we're out of blue cheese, you need to buy some!" She also prefers to eat spinach salad (again, blue cheese dressing or Green Goddess dressing only, please), and likes carrots and celery, but if you serve her a cooked vegetable she freaks out. She eats fish and chicken (especially if it's breaded), but beef is pretty much off the table. Pork chops are out, but she rivals Elvis in her love for bacon (my apologies to all my vegetarian friends, the meat thing is almost over). The caveat to this is I can usually coax her into eating anything if I put hot sauce on it, or give her a kosher dill pickle to eat along side of whatever else has been served. Sometimes she just wants to eat the pickles out of the jar.
I was going to blame this one on my husband, but I suppose this is my fault too. Mostly his, though. My daughter is in love with Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis, Jr. When my daughter was just shy of her first birthday, I bought my husband a Rat Pack DVD and CD set. When Dean showed up on the television screen, my baby hauled herself over there and plastered herself against him, howling with anger when I tried to pull her away. It's been that way every since. If we get in the car, "Moooooooom! I don't want to listen to your music, I wanna listen to MINE. I want DEAN." She also loves Glen Miller, Rosemary Clooney, and James Taylor. She also likes the Beatles better than the Rolling Stones. If she's given the chance to choose, though, it's almost always Dean Martin. The worst part for me is that she's taken to copying Dean's jokes from the DVD. I can just see her waltzing in to her first day of Pre-Kindergarten this fall. "I don't drink anymore, I freeze it and eat it like a popsicle." On the upside, her comic timing is impeccable.
Which brings me to this: Her Sense of Humour
TFYO knows if her father or I are mad about something, the easiest way out is to make us laugh. This would be okay, if she wasn't so damned good at making me laugh. One night we were having a tough time getting her to settle down to bed. She kept giggling, and I finally went in there and said "Just what the heck is so funny about bedtime?"
"Nothing," she said.
"Well, if nothing is funny, then why are you laughing?" (See, I'm playing the straight man here)
"Because nothing is funny. Nothing is just sooooo funny!"
"Alright, now, settle down. If nothing is funny, there shouldn't be so much laughing."
Then up pops a little hand from underneath the covers, and the hand says to me:
"I'm Nothing, and I'm hilaaaaaaaaarious!"
And just while I was trying to keep it together, her other hand popped up and proclaimed:
"And I'm Anything, and I'm funny, too!"
I had to leave the room. Her right foot has since been named Something, but it isn't quite as hilarious to Anything and Nothing who seem to delight in picking on her. And for some reason Anything sounds like James Mason. Or, at least, James Mason imitated by a little four-year-old girl.
The last thing weird about my kid:
Her Life, the Musical
TFYO loves to sing, and I mean SING. She's always been musical, she's been teaching herself simple songs on the piano since she was two years old, and we've always sang songs to her. But some days, I feel like I'm living in the Rabbit of Seville. Does she want to eat? Loud and clear and almost Wagnerian : "Yeeeees, Mommeeeeeee, I would like to eaaaaaaat! To eat, to eat, to eat would be sweeeeeeeeet!" The same goes for the playground, the bath and bedtime. Everything can be made into a song. There are occasions when this makes other children avoid her, but she doesn't seem to care. Generally, it doesn't bother me because her pitch is good, and she's rarely flat, and her sense of composition is pretty decent for a four-year-old. It's just when she wants us to join in that we have a problem. That, and the Twyla Tharp style dance numbers.
So, The-Four-Year-Old is weird, but I still think she's wonderful. I can give her a stack of books, and she'll read them to me while I try and get some housework done. Or she'll create little scenarios for her dolls to act out. Or she'll draw on every available piece of scrap paper until she's reduced to drawing on the backs of cereal boxes. And I love it. I love every minute of it.
Friday, July 6, 2007
The Five Stupidest Things Ever Said to Me (counting down, in order)
5. "Hey, let's move to Alabama."
This was said to me by an ex-boyfriend whom I thought I was going to marry. We were going to school at Western Michigan at the time, and I think the snow was getting to him. So I moved to Alabama, but he changed his mind, both about being married and moving to Alabama. I've since forgiven him...mostly.
4. "I think you've got an ear infection."
This was said to me by my family doctor in Charleston, when I went in complaining of nausea three weeks after my honeymoon. The diagnoses was based a negative pregnancy test in the office and some "redness" in my inner ear, as he called it. At the time, I was wearing headphones for four to five hours per day. Oh, and my home pregnancy test was positive.
3. "C'mon, just try and work with guy."
This was said to me by my manager at a radio station a while back. I'd been put on a morning show with the original host who didn't want a co-host and made it plain to anyone who asked. He didn't want me there, and after working with him for a bit, I didn't want to be there, either. To be fair, we had differing ideas of what my role should be, but even after management sided with me, he held firm. It ended in an ugly way, but I kept my job, at least for a while.
2. "If you use anything other than **NAME BRAND** cream on your nipples while breastfeeding, you will poison your child."
This was said to me by a nurse I affectionately named "The Boobie Nazi". The Boobie Nazi was the teacher of my breastfeeding class. She showed films that bordered on soft core porn (no I'm not a prude, even my husband was uncomfortable). She also lied to me about using this "special brand" of lanolin cream to help prevent chapping. I'm allergic to lanolin. I panicked my way through the rest of pregnancy, until a nice lactation consultant in the hospital where I gave birth confirmed my suspicions that The Boobie Nazi was stupid. She said "Oh, I know her. She's an idiot, really." And then the nice lady gave me some vitamin E capsules, and told me to feed my kid.
1. "There will be some minor discomfort."
This from every gynaecologist holding a speculum.
Okay, that's it. You can list yours in the comment section. Have a lovely weekend everyone!
PS I just found out my friend taqdeer is getting married and will no longer be blogging for my amusement. taqdeer, I've really enjoyed reading your blog and your comments here. You were one of my very first readers and you will be missed more than you know. Congratulations on your wedding, and may you and your bride have a beautiful and fruitful life together. Y'all go on over to his blog desertscape and offer your congrats to him before he vanishes for good.
Thursday, July 5, 2007
We finally made it to our local team's game yesterday for the Fourth of July. As you can see, they play in an older stadium, it's not new or fancy, but given that we're in Savannah, a new ball park would make much sense. That, and the Savannah Sand Gnats (a New York Mets affiliate) only play Single A ball.
Oh, quick aside for folks who don't know anything about minor league baseball:
AAA (Triple A) league is closest to playing in the majors. Guys who play AAA usually move up pretty quickly.
AA (Double A) is the next league down.
Oh, yeah, and we won, 6-2. Not bad, considering we lost pretty much the first half of the season.