Good evening, Blog Readers. Today’s blog entry is slightly different than others I have written. I will not be boasting about my accomplishments of days #2 and #3 of Half-Marathon training (5X400s @ 7.5 and 5.5 paces; 3 miles in 25:55 + strength training), nor will I be sharing the details of the goodies cooked up in Mom’s kitchen. No, this will not be a blog about the fanciest of the Fancy Oatmeal either. For you see today I am totally surrounded by testosterone. Bulging biceps, virile hard bodies, and more 1980s mustaches than you can decline a ride home from.
When Dear Hubby asked me if I would like to spend a day surrounded by hundreds of Major League baseball players, I immediately accepted, and then questioned his motives. Dear Hubby has dived head first into a
shallow pool major project of sorting and classifying his baseball card collection. After my mini pout session about cardboard hunks of humanity instead of flesh and blood, I perked up because I love organizing and
There was already a pretty good chunk of the work started the last time Dear Hubby went home. He collected all the crates and binders of treasures from his youth, and developed a pretty impressive system for classifying his collection: card brand, year, and then team.
There had to be over 10,000 cards in total, and considering that a 7 year old was in charge of maintaining them, the cards were in great condition.
I was hoping to see some hotties, you know like these?
I was NOT anticipating these mugs:
This afternoon was really enjoyable. Dear Hubby schooled me on the boys of summer back before the Tigers were in the World Series in 2006, when I started paying attention to baseball. Actually I recognized several big names, so I suppose that means that basing our retirement on this collection won’t equate to us living in a trailer park.