Where's Dinger?

Tanner and I went to the baseball game last night, courtesy of my friends Joe and Kristen. The previous night's game did not go well for the Rockies, but we were hopeful and excited about the opportunity to attend the game. And if the home team didn't play well...well, there's always hot dogs, ice cream, and the chance to make a spectacular catch on a sizzling foul ball, right?

The evening began with a brief tour of the home my friends are building. Ambitious folks, they are -- not long ago there had been a perfectly good house sitting there on a choice lot in a beautiful community...and they decided to knock it down. Not only smash their existing home to rubble, but replace it with a custom-built masterpiece they designed themselves, and upon which they have performed much of the labor. A LOT of work. But it's almost done, and it is very impressive indeed.

I'm not sure I could do that. Oh sure, I could tell you what kind of room I wanted for my exercise equipment...and I would design it so that the TV was within reaching distance of the fridge. But beyond that? I'd be completely lost. But these folks have thought of every detail, and it's first class all the way. Solar powered and energy efficient, aesthetically drool-worthy, and emminently functional. No swimming pool, Velvet Elvis Shrine Room, or sword-fighting monkey enclosure, but I guess you can't have everything.

Anyway, after the tour, we headed to the ballpark, where I enjoyed spending my last several paychecks on hotdogs for myself and my son. We had great seats, and the Rockies were feeling frisky. The game was fun, the company was excellent, and the weather was fabulous. The only thing I'd change would be the position of the ballpark loudspeakers; it was a little tough to hold a conversation while your filling were rattling from the constant aural stimulation. If there's nothing going on in the game, they seem to have no problem filling the air with lame music contests, races among motorcycling pigs, and inane contests where they ask random spectators to recite that batting averages, favorite meals, and hat sizes of reserve players in order to win a toxic cheesy crunchy melty thingy from the fast food sponsor of the week.

But the finer points of baseball aside, here's my question of the day: How does a "Wave" get started? When we saw the amber waves of arms undulating our way, Tanner asked me that same question. I told him that I thought it was Dinger's fault. But a careful search of the arena revealed no sign of our prehistoric foam-filled herbivore cheerleader. Ergo -- was it spontaneous human wave-bustion? A carefully orchestrated audience ripoff, like when David Copperfield makes the Statue of Liberty disappear? Or just a bunch of rowdy drunks in the Rockpile.

I do not know. I think we'll have to call in Skully and Mulder on this one. While they're deliberating, though, you might want to consider grabbing a few pals and heading off to the ballpark. It's a surefire way to have a great day!