We had a lovely, busy weekend. I confess to a George baked brownie at the BBQ. The next night we climbed to the middle of the Balboa theater and enjoyed “Thriller” by the Gay Men’s Chorus with a few M&M’s. Wonderful fun stuff indeed.
Yesterday afternoon, we loaded ourselves up with sunscreen and were off to the ball park to watch the Padres and Reds. It was military day, and Marines in uniform were everywhere. The sky was a beautiful blue, the air was perfect, we were in the shade, and at the beginning, our team got the first run.
As we neared the end of the game, I reached for my old black backpack. It was in the seat next to me. Now it was gone. I looked everywhere. So did George. Security and police came. We watched each departing person. George went through trash cans. The police advised. The Guest Service Officer consoled. I was frozen in a layer of misery.
George took one last check down where we were sitting. There was the bag sitting right in my seat. Everything was in it. All we could do was guess that someone took it by accident, and returned it when they noticed it wasn’t theirs.
We are all still grateful. I even hugged everyone. I am the most grateful person you know.