A California yankee in Babe’s house

On four hours of sleep–why did I leave all of that cleaning until the last minute?–I made it to the train, made it to NYC, and made it through yesterday, which culminated with martinis on the rooftop of the bride and groom’s building, overlooking the George Washington Bridge and the Hudson River as the sun set behind them.

I checked in on Mama, 3B and Barky, and all are well. 3B has been asking for me, which is both heartwarming and heartbreaking. I’ll post more pictures of him on large farm equipment soon. He’s taken to going out with Uncle P on the shit spreader every day for about half an hour.

But right now, we’ve got to run–we is the best man and myself–we’re going to a Yankees game. I know. Mama’s from New England and so is a Sox fan, and I’m…well…let’s just say not a Yankees fan…will 3B still respect me after finding out about this?

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  • You can just say that you went to see Yankee Stadium before they tear it down. Make sure you see Shea Stadium too this year!

    Wish I could get out there before they get demolished, but I don’t think it will happen.

  • Right. As if that would get me off the hook, but even Sox fans go to Yankee Stadium to see their Sox, right?

    Maybe you’ll make it back. You never know. There’s 60 some odd games left…