Large disappointments make minor victories greater

I sat on the patio making the most of temperature in the mid-60s and the transform of the season even though reflecting on the Chicago Cubs' miserable baseball season. One other disappointing October merely because of surprising injuries. What a shock.

I'll root for the Dodgers in the playoffs, probably even the Yankees, but never the Cardinals. Not if they were the last baseball group on Earth that could beat the White Sox. Practically never.

It failed to just take long, or noticeably, to boost my mood. The dryer sheet scent wafting from the dryer vent was pretty nice. At my age, it can take a lot less and a lot less to impress me. That evening, it happened to be the mild scent of the summertime meadow. I had two loads of laundry beneath my belt, and absolutely everyone would notice clean underwear for the new full week. Score 1 for Mother zero for the Cubs.

Tomorrow, who is aware of what will make my day? A full roll of toilet paper in the rest room? Or ten minutes spent listening to the crickets in the yard signal the conclude of the day as the final pink hues drenching the clouds fade into darkness.

Now, if the Cubs found high quality pitching, that would make my day. Maybe they would not fade into darkness each October.

A not so big victory for me was tracking down the way out of a corn maze without a map, compass or leaving a trail of bread crumbs. The only item in my purse I could have employed to leave a trail was a stick of chewing gum. But the gum would have blended into the gray dirt and wasted my only implies of diet if I would really feel faint or had a burning want to blow bubbles even while screaming for help.

I wonder if the Cubs could choose their way out of a corn maze? With a map? Or a compass? Would they have utilized the gum for a trail or to see who could blow the largest bubble?

The disappointment just continues. The 3rd clothing iron I've purchased in the prior two many years leaks, encountering the same fate as the other irons that satisfied an early demise. No one particular in the home looks to know why the irons ended up cracked. It is really as if the irons purposely hurt on their own, frustrated mainly because their effort was never ever done.

A Cubs fan's operate is by no means completed. We regularly have to convince other individuals we are not stupid -- just stubborn -- for the extraordinary commitment to our group. "Following 12 months" we say with a straight encounter each and every October.

Perhaps it really is the Cubs enthusiast mentality that has kept my loved ones clinging to the lone tomato plant surviving in our garden. We wish for an individual previous hurrah, but know deep down it was about by late summertime.

If I've discovered a person issue this 12 months, it's that the Cubs are the actual boys of summertime. They unquestionably do not play in the fall -- but.

Vicki Estes is a Topeka freelance author. She can be arrived at at vaestes@sbcglobal.net.