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Quick notes from Bottom Eight On: - Blather. Rants. Repeat.
A Møøse once bit my sister ...
Quick notes from Bottom Eight On:
The Mets' final home game of the year- win or lose- is moments away from ending. I've watched little of it until now, for the same reason I didn't jump in the car and head south on hearing that StubHub ticket prices had crashed following last night's Game Four loss:

We've had company.

Once known here as thediva_laments and 9thkvius, they now blog jointly (and elsewhere) as kellyandgeoff. They met through mutual LJ friends, married a few years ago, and now both work for MIT.

Top nine now. Our starting pitcher is still on the mound with a two-run lead.

Geoff and Kelly were passing through on the way back from Ohio to Boston. In tow were two adorable Daschshunds- an older, shorthaired female named Thumbelina, and a younger longhaired male named (and doing) Dash.

Harvey walked the leadoff man on a 3-2 count. Our closer is warming up. Runner stole second.

All the aminals mostly get along. The older female is the alpha of the two and barks, snarls and shows teeth whenever Ebony gives Dash (or anyone else) any attention. Left alone, Ebony and Dash are sniffly snuggly buds already.  Both dachsies chase the cats. Let them.

We left Harvey in one pitch too many. A double scored the leadoff walk. It's now 2-1.  Familia's coming in. We still got this.

They took us out to the Pizza Plant- our favorite stop to show out-of-town guests far more than a cheese and pepperoni pie. They marveled at the menu, enjoyed pods, discovered the joys of hard root beer. We talked nonstop from the moment they got here.

Two balls, no strikes. Our manager is wringing his hands. Groundout, tying run to third. Two to go.

We spent most of the morning into the early afternoon getting Emily's room ready for them. Tazzer really did a number on the floor, but Sunshine Cleaning did a good job getting it up to snuff, if not sniff.

Got the second out, but only after the tying run scored from third. Now it's two out, nobody on, and the guy who homered to win Game Two just grounded out.  Joe Buck is overcompensating for his KC haters by orgasming over their comeback. To us, it's just a chance for a bottom-nine walkoff.

We walked all three dogs not long after they got here.  It's been good for Ebony, and me, to get out there and do that almost every day now.

First Met up lines a screamer into the hole. Which the fucking shortstop catches.  Now the guy who caused the tying run to score is up.  The Hollywood script would have him homer right now.

They'll be on their way early tomorrow. It was a great visit- first time I've seen them since running a 5K in Boston over three years ago, first time Eleanor's ever met them.

Hollywood made the high fly ball about five feet short of the fence. Two outs, still tied. And now three, and extra innings.

I have to end this now- up early myself in the morning. Hoping for happy ending for the Mets and an early rise tomorrow for a return to KC:)
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