Paradoxically speaking:

I had finally resigned myself to a long term, perhaps permanent, work slowdown and was halfway into retirement planning when, the next week, my inbox delivered a slew of new projects.

I love, love, love my 5-year-old loan-free Tundra, but my personal energy efficiency czar (also known as my husband) is leaning on me to purchase a Prius.

While savoring every second of what may be my youngest child’s last year playing college baseball, my granddaughter is starting T-ball.

My affinity for baseball and trucks go way back…

• Sandlot baseball was my first sport and keeping up with all the neighborhood guys was great training for giving birth years later to three athletic sons. Since becoming a spectator in the intervening years, I’ve also put batting and infield practice time to good use, knitting huge quantities of socks, sweaters and baby blankets.
• My ride when first son was born was an old white Toyota pickup, which hauled all manner of sports gear, my knitting stuff and amazing garage sale finds, but which sufficed only as long as baby made three.

Watching my sons’ little league experiences over the past 20 years, I’ve been feeling wistful as the youngest one wraps up his collegiate career far from home. Taking me back across those two decades in the crack of the bat, my Bonus Daughter shared her first experience as the mom of a Tball player a couple of days ago:

“So we finally got the first practice in…my cheeks hurt when it was over from smiling for an hour straight (that, and it was like -20 outside). She certainly has “mad skills” compared to the other kiddos. She hit all 3 times at bat. I’d put her at #2 just behind her friend Jose who is quite the slugger (and whose grandpa played for the Cubs). The cutest was when everyone came in from the field and Coach Chris told them to sit down. He was on bended knee, Bug was the first one to get there so she looked around tentatively then knelt down herself as all he other kids came crashing in and plopped down on their butts. So there she was for the next 5 minutes with hands folded on her knee listening intently to Coach.”

That same little SlugBug asked yesterday if I would knit her a blue sweater.

So, where does that leave me?

If I keep working (and lucky am I to have work that I can do from any location), and go for the Prius, I can afford to visit those grown up kids of mine (and possibly drive to some minor league baseball games) whenever I want, despite the price of gas. And, if things get really tight, T-ball is only a couple blocks away for the next several months and I should have plenty of time to finish that little blue sweater.

Batter up.