nothing like a ball game to bring out the criminal in a girl...

so, my awesome thurber-in-laws blessed us with a package of astros tickets for this season. they are predicted to be the worst team in baseball this year, but clint is a die-hard. so game #1 for us was cubs @ astros. i already knew who would win. not because i know my stats, but because i know my harry caray. and cubs win, cubs win.

anywho, the better half and i set out on the metrorail for minute maid stadium. all smiles and no expectations.

{ you know how you know you have been married long enough to understand eachother almost perfectly? well, my moment of realization came in route to the metrorail. i told clint that he looked like a very attractive ninja turtle in his shades. he said "thank you!" he totally knew what i meant}



{in case you haven't seen minute maid stadium, here it is}



so try not to think too many sad thoughts about me when i make this confession, but i promise i will sugar-coat my wicked way in delightful narrative.

you see, on saturday mr. sports-is-life and i went to the rockets v clippers game to watch blake griffin dunk & the rockets kill the clippers like everyone else does. the previous monday i had bought a 6 pack of coke to help clint through the exam week, but he didn't drink them because he actually didn't need any help because he actually is a ninja turtle. so i decided that the cokes were mine, and i would bring one to the rockets game. but i got caught at the door and had to dispose of the precious liquid.

fast-forward to astros game night. i was making preparations for departure. i grab the coke and a fist full of pads & panty-liners and shove those bad-boys in my purse. on the train: i expertly arrange the contents of my large purse. coke in the large middle pocket. large wallet open and straddling the coke. one pad sticking out one side of the wallet, one pad to guard the backside. panty-liners strewn across the top of this mess to ward off prying eyes. one empty water bottle in the main section of the purse as a distraction mechanism (which clint actually stuck in there so that he could drink water like a healthy human being. little did he know he was enabling both my coke-loving & coke-sneaking addictions).

so we walk up to the ticket-takers and are forced to separate into the bag-holders & the non-bag-holders. by this time i am sweating a little, palms are clammy, & there is a knot in my stomach. but at least my husband won't be standing right next to me if i fail.

so i deftly hold my bag out like it's no big deal. there isn't really a vessel of yumminess hidden amongst the feminine products. the man looks at the middle pocket, pads & all, and quickly looks away a little flustered. but he regains composure and attempts to look again, but this time he spots the empty water bottle and gets a little antsy. so i allay his suspicions--"is it alright to bring this empty bottle in to fill it up in the drinking fountain?"

and you wanna know what?.... it totally worked.

see!



{i felt such a weird rush after getting through that bag check. but now i just feel bad. because here is the confession: the day before in relief society i had totally taught a lesson on honesty. but they do say that the teacher is the one who generally needs the lesson, right? i obviously needed that lesson. hopefully i will remember it the next time i get the urge to sneak a coke...}





{the stadium meets the skyline. houston, you rock. i will maybe name my first man-child after you. maybe}



{the piglets enjoying the view}



{what i am trying to say is, thank you grandma darlene for this dapper cap & matching beads from africa. everyone was jealous. i could tell}



{i was having a really fun time picking out on the new and improve big-screen who had the craziest eyebrows. this guy's eyebrows were at least 20 feet long. but he has such a friendly face, huh?}

{we're the thurbers, and we are happy to be here!}
{{the comment above is misleading, i had probably just spit on clint out of excitement & he may have been wiping it off his face... or something}}

this next picture was the icing on this magical cupcake of an evening...



{baseball, high-rises, trains, & the american flag. God bless the USA}



the moral to this story is-- men aren't just frontin'. they really are afraid of feminine products.