Tee Ball Is Whack
The yoga class I'd been attending just about every Wednesday since last July had gotten stale, so when my new local community sent around class offerings, one of which was pilates, I figured I'd sign up for it. The recreation building, where the class is held, is next to the major park for the area. The park has ballfields, and if I thought last week the park was mobbed with little leaguers, this week was overflowing with them. Picture day or something with the tee ball kids, said one of my classmates as I finally snagged a parking space that wasn't ten miles away and walked up to the building.
I don't know what they were thinking when they scheduled us for 7:00--the games aren't done yet. The pressure of trying to find a place to park on top of trying not to run over the kiddos is more stress than I need. Next week, I'm praying for rain.
'Cause we're indoors and the ballfields aren't.
I don't know what they were thinking when they scheduled us for 7:00--the games aren't done yet. The pressure of trying to find a place to park on top of trying not to run over the kiddos is more stress than I need. Next week, I'm praying for rain.
'Cause we're indoors and the ballfields aren't.
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