Early Game.

Windows down and dog riding shotgun first to the bank and then to the market this morning, and there was that cool on the breeze, a sort of serious, abiding cool, and I knew I knew it, knew that smell, but couldn't quite place it until we turned some corner and the wind blew through the car just right and then there it was: Little League baseball, 9:00 game, long sleeves under your uniform shirt. We were the A's, I think, that year, the one I've got in mind, and this was before uniform hat technology got all fancy, or I played in a less fancy Little League, or something, but our hats were green foam up front and white mesh in the back, and they had iron-on velveteen yellow letter As on them. That hat is, I believe, still on the top shelf of my old closet back in 30328. We'll go on and say that was also the year I hit my one and only home run, as well as the year in practice when I caught a towering pop-up with my eye. Stood under it and watched it all the way in.

More about baseball later, I suppose, since the Braves open against the Phillies Sunday night. For now: seventy today, seventy-five tomorrow. Even in the face of all that, the FreezeWatch keeps on keeping on.

It's not even noon. Time for more coffee, a few projects, the middle of the day. Warming up out there. Not gonna need those long sleeves all day, I don't think.