Tag: 30-year-old

It’s a Metaphor

My brain typically works in metaphors, oftentimes sports-related, other times fairy tales or sci-fi plots … the usual. I can connect almost any life situation to an episode of “Community” or (more recently) a Queen song.

I like connections, symbolism, finding hidden meanings, surprise jokes. I’m better at math the more abstract it is. (For instance, I aced algebra through calculus, but I can’t make change on the spot at all whatsoever.)

Anyway, when I started this blog and chose a name, I realized it was a pun, and I liked it because it gave me a cushion, a little room to play around.

I would physically go to ballparks, but I could kind of talk about anything because I could relate almost any topic and claim it’s “in the ballpark.” Nothing needed to be exact because I’d just be “ballparking it.”

I’m disappointed it took me over a year to figure out the real metaphor.

I recently spent a week battling allergies (or a cold?) that hit all the usual stages – sore throat, uncontrollable sneezing, runny nose, congestion and uncontrollable coughing (the stage I’m in as I type this). My living room is a mess, and so are my kitchen and bedroom. I feel like I’ve lost a week to this surprise sinus misadventure.

The idea of my trashed apartment, Rudolphian nose and the ever-changing pressure in my head (which reminds me of a Queen song) got me thinking. This week didn’t go as planned, but hey, that’s life.

This led to another thought – how neglected my blog has been. Part of it has been actual busyness and legitimate excuses, and part of it is how indecisive I am and that I would rather watch a television show or baseball game than commit to what I want to say and publish it.

And that thought led me one step further. No matter how much planning, plotting or daydreaming goes into a project, we all kind of (educatedly) guess and check our way through life to some degree. Sometimes the result is what we imagined, and sometimes it isn’t.

We’re all just kind of ballparking it.

I thought Ballparking It was a symbol and celebration of turning 30 and starting a new chapter, and it is, but maybe that’s secondary. It turns out, I’ve been “ballparking it” since 1988, and my baseball road trips are no exception.

I got rained on at my first ballpark, threw up before the Brewers game, made what seemed like every wrong turn trying to get to Target Field, found out I don’t understand roundabouts at all, did the Mall of America with a next-level migraine and have revised my year two ballpark itinerary probably more times than I even remember right now.

Did I quit? No. I popped open an umbrella, rallied with a ballpark baked potato, found the Target Field parking lot, made it out of each and every roundabout I entered, discovered just how soothing the Mall of America Ninja Turtles ride can be and fully intend to visit multiple ballparks this year.

Shell Shock at Nickelodeon Universe in the Mall of America
Shell Shock at Nickelodeon Universe in the Mall of America

Sometimes you put your hand in bird poop at the Ozzie Smith statue, and you know what? That’s OK. You can wash it off at Ballpark Village.

(This is literally what I did the night before the 2018 PGA Championship.)

Birds poop. (And that is not a commentary on any Cardinals losing trend, but it could be.) Does that mean they poop all over your dreams and you give up if something isn’t quite how you’d guessed it would be? Nope. You just keep ballparking it.

Maybe I accidentally (on purpose) get months (or a year) behind on posts. Maybe I’d rather rank songs or write about a TV show one day than recap a ballpark. Maybe I realize I’m more of a vacationer than a traveler. Maybe the Cardinals lay a big fat turd in the month of May. (Birds do poop, remember?)

If any of these not-so-hypothetical situations come up, I can just roll up my sleeves, rinse my hands, write the posts I want to write and enjoy (and hope the Cardinals have a better June).

Yes, I’m literally visiting 30 ballparks for turning 30, but no matter how old I am, like every other human, I’ll always be ballparking it.

That’s what this blog is, not a travel blog and not just the next chapter, but all the bird poop, random thoughts and roundabouts along the way.

I’m 30: Baby, Let the Games Begin

After a bit of an unintentional hiatus, I’m back, and a lot has happened since my last baseball travel post.

Spoiler alert, it wasn’t my height that changed.

For instance, I moved (which is good because I love my new place and now have quieter neighbors, but it was also a total pain in the rear end because moving is definitely not one of my talents).

The Cardinals missed the playoffs (but had an exciting offseason, so don’t worry).

One of the ballparks I visited in 2018 announced it will have a new name in a few years.

And most noteworthy, I won my fantasy football league. Oh, and I turned 30.

What’s 30-year-old me like? I’m glad you asked.

Here are 10 facts (in no particular order) about 30-year-old me that weren’t true for the 20-something version. (I’m going with 10 because 30 is a big number and requires lots of words.)

1. I’ve seen Taylor Swift in concert.

“Happy belated birthday.” – Taylor, probably
Reputation Stadium Tour // Lucas Oil Stadium // Indianapolis // Sept. 15, 2018

“Baby, let the games begin …” and indeed they did. Those were the first words Taylor belted at each stop on her award-winning, record-setting, mind-blowing Reputation Stadium Tour, and they’ve become my anthem for turning 30.

I celebrated a belated birthday at her Indianapolis show to kick off a new decade of life.

2. I drink hot chocolate and like it.

I’ve never been a fan of hot drinks. I don’t like tea because no matter how it’s flavored, it tastes like dirt smells. And I think coffee smells even worse (unless it’s one of those fancy flavors, but even then, I still don’t drink it).

Hot chocolate is another story. Chocolate milk has always been one of my favorite drinks, but I never liked its piping hot counterpart. Until now. Thirty-year-old me loves that stuff.

3. I’ve met a D-Day survivor.

Again, these are in no particular order. World War II is obviously a more important topic than chocolate drinks or even a Taylor Swift concert (sorry, Taylor, I love you), but I didn’t want to start with something somber.

I interviewed a WWII veteran last fall, and I’m pretty sure he’s the first WWII vet I’ve ever met. I’m sure I’ve run into one at the grocery store or something, but this is the first time I’ve talked to someone knowing he served in WWII and even landed on the beaches of Normandy.

I didn’t take the opportunity for granted. My grandma’s brother served and died in WWII, and I believe he also took part in D-Day, so this was extra special for me.

4. I know how to play euchre … kind of.

This year at Christmas, my cousin taught his (older) cousins how to play euchre. I’m not saying any of us were any good at it, but we now kind of know how to play it. Kind of.

5. I have seen a ’90s boy band in concert.

It was about 28 degrees that night, but it was 98 inside.
98 Degrees at Christmas // Virginia Theater // Champaign, Illinois // Nov. 28, 2018

I spent the late ’90s and early 2000s loving boy bands. Backstreet Boys, NSYNC, 98 Degrees – what a time to be alive.

In November, I went with my mom to 98 Degrees at Christmas, a holiday show featuring the group’s own Christmas songs, holiday covers and some of their biggest non-holiday hits.

Thirty-year-old me loved it, and 11-year-old me would have been super jealous.

6. I had the most relaxing, fulfilling and fun Christmas break of all time.

Last year was an exhausting and exhilarating year. I started this blog and traveled a lot, and it required a LOT of planning, which isn’t my strong suit.

With ballpark traveling, family reunions, the PGA Championship, family vacations, football games and a month-long move, there were very few weekends all spring, summer and fall when I didn’t go out of town or host guests at my place or when I wasn’t moving between places.

I don’t think I realized how much I needed a week off for Christmas until it arrived, and I loved it. I didn’t overdo it at all, and I still had a magical holiday.

Thirty-year-old me knew how to appreciate all the little things (and big things) when I needed them most.

7. I dreamed of a white Christmas (tree) … and bought one.

I’m dreaming of a white Christmas tree …

In grad school, I bought the cheapest Christmas tree I could find to spruce up my college living room (no pun intended). I loved that tree, and it brought me joy for seven Christmases at four different apartments.

I realize the tree is far from the most important thing about Christmas and that you don’t need a tree to get in the holiday spirit. But I guess this new white Christmas tree was my present to myself. It kind of symbolized saying goodbye to my 20s and hello to a new chapter, one where I get to be in charge. It served as a metaphor for growing and maturing and will hopefully remind me of that for years to come.

It definitely brought me Christmas cheer (and LOTS of it for those of you who know how long I waited to take it down).

8. I love Queen and have listened to Queen music basically nonstop since Christmas.

I’ve always liked Queen and the big hits we all know and love, but I’m no longer a casual fan. A few days after watching “Bohemian Rhapsody” (which oddly enough, I thought was a mediocre movie), I was in a Queen mood. I watched a live performance of “Somebody to Love” and was hooked from that moment on.

I’ve now heard every song on all 15 studio albums (many of them again and again and again), every non-album B-side (I think) and an embarrassing number of concert bootlegs. I follow guitarist Brian May and drummer Roger Taylor on Instagram, and I bought “Bohemian Rhapsody” on Blu-ray to see the bonus feature of the full recreation of Live Aid. Yes, I have a problem.

This is probably the biggest change I’ve experienced since turning 30. I’ve never been this into a band before, not even Taylor or the Backstreet Boys.

I’m seeing Marc Martel and the Ultimate Queen Celebration in April, and I will do some kind of Queen-related post at some point.

9. I am a champion … in fantasy football.

Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?

Well, both. I didn’t brag when I won, so I’m taking the time now to mention that I won my fantasy football league (for the first time ever because 20-something me wasn’t that good). I’m the only female in my league, so it’s about time I stepped up. Thirty-year-old me is the champion, my friend.

10. I’m not freaked out about being 30.

I’m one of those people (or at least 20-something me was) who gets down in the dumps on her birthday each year. It might have more to do with me being nostalgic about everything and not wanting a chapter of life to end rather than being scared of getting older. I’m not really sure.

This year, I was a little sad I didn’t get to have the big 3-0 party I’d envisioned (because I hadn’t fully moved into the new place yet), and I was stressed out of my mind (because, like I said earlier, I’m not good at moving). But the act of turning 30 didn’t bother me.

This journey of 30 ballparks for turning 30 has transformed the idea of 30 into something special and something I wholeheartedly welcome – more hotdogs, more sunshine and ultimately, more baseball.

Basically, I’m still the same baseball-loving, 5-foot girl I’ve always been, but I drink more hot chocolate and listen to way more Queen.

So baby, let the games begin. Bring on 30 and all the ballparks that come with it.