Fred, Debbie. Debbie, Fred

As if you would notice. Indeed. As if. We are catching the train in the morning. The wee wee wee all the way home hours of the morning. The Yankees are coming. The Yankees are coming. To Seattle. Like a moth to a flame I must go. I won't score each pitch, but I will keep score. Obsessively. Compulsively. I even picked up a tiny little pencil sharpener. Just in case. The mechanical pencil works, but the characters and notations don't have that sharp appearance I want. That I need. They appear to almost bleed graphite. Tests conducted in the minors will make their big league debut. Once. Twice. Thrice. Blind mice. My line-up is set. My bag is packed. I have checked and re-checked that the tickets are there. Where they should be. It is in fact our aba daba honeymoon. Really. Yabba dabba doo! Until I return, you will get nothing. And like it.