Well butter my butt

and call me a biscuit. To be honest, I’m not exactly sure what that Southern expression means, but I love it so much that I look for any opportunity to use it. My Southern accent isn’t bad either.

The Orioles WON. I know what you’re thinking, but fear not. You are okay. No need to make an emergency call to your doctor to report the sudden onset of Wernicke’s aphasia. You read that correctly.

I’m not guaranteeing that the world isn’t ending though and to be honest, I feel a little unsettled. There’s a kind of peaceful joy enveloping me and I don’t know what to do with it.

What I hope Trembley has realized is that just like with every dysfunctional relationship, the important thing is to break the existing destructive, entrenched pattern. Whereas normally we have the lead and then approach the opposing team and say, “Hey, would ya’ll like to win tonight?” and they reply, “Hell yeah” and we say, “Okay, hang tight. We’ll pitch you a bunch of homerun balls.” Tonight we tried something different. We decided to wait to score and then came from behind to win it.

I do seem to be gradually learning to take the Os in stride, and with some more exposure, I may yet be able to calmly watch a typical game without revealing my seething rage.

There’s only one more week of games for me. We leave next week for our vacation, so I hope I get to see a few more winning ones – particularly this weekend against the hateful Red Sox. Saturday we’re having friends over for dinner and even though they’re from D.C., they’re not particularly Orioles fans. I know, I find it appalling too. The good news is that through my influence they’ve learned to hate the Ys. I’m rather proud of that. One fan at a time.

Sleep tight, mes amis! Savor our victory!

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