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Secrets that don't keep....

Sometimes, I'm not good at keeping secrets.

Well, actually, I'm very good at keeping secrets when I need to, or when someone else has asked me to.
When I'm not good at it is when it's a pleasant surprise secret (although I think I did very well keeping John's Velvet Elvis a secret from him...but I could tell other people!)

I bought baseball tickets for my mother last Saturday. I place blame my love of baseball firmly on my mother's shoulders. She taught me to love the game, the infield fly rule, and finally believed that my eyesight wasn't great when I couldn't read the scoreboard.

Despite the 20 years we lived in Chicago, she never went to a Cubs game. We lived on the south side (far south suburbs, to be exact) and while we went up to see the White Sox almost every summer, we didn't go to Wrigley Field.
The Cubs are coming to Seattle in June and I'm taking my mom--even if it means going to Walla Walla to get her and bring her back over.

I was going to hold off and give her the tickets for her birthday in May (and give her less time to fuss about a trip to Seattle), but I couldn't wait. I think we'll have a good time!