Happy...

America's game.

Baseball.

"I know what I want to do for my birthday," Chris tells me a few weeks ago. "The PawSox have a home game on my birthday. So we'll get a block of seats and invite everyone to the game."

Which is exactly what we do yesterday.

Nine of us enjoy fifth and sixth row box seats in section fourteen just along the third baseline. The weather is perfect. Sixty degrees, a few clouds in the sky, but mostly sun. It's not too hot or too cold.

Peanuts, hotdogs, chicken sausages, french fries, and hamburgers are enjoyed by all throughout the game  along with beer (for the adults) and cotton candy (for the kids...yech! How can they eat that stuff???) thrown in for good measure.

The PawSox and the Buffalo Bisons play some fantastic baseball: homeruns, stolen bases and some absolutely incredible diving catches in the outfield. It's glorious. The PawSox run up the score to 10-2 by the bottom of the sixth inning. Buffalo rallies in the seventh with four runs, but they never do make up the difference.

A great game. A great day.

And for an entire glorious day, I am happy. Happy that my husband is enjoying his birthday. Happy to be with dear family and friends.

Happy to not be talking about our failed adoption.

In fact, I don't think about the adoption at all.

For a day...I forget.

And I am happy.