Earlier this week, I went to the Cardinals vs. Cubs baseball game. And I found myself in a strange dilemma. We all know I am not a very sporty person, but my family does love baseball. (Hate on its' excruciatingly slow pace all you want, there is no stopping the "buy me some peanuts and crackerjacks" type of carefree attitude!) I was born in St. Louis and know baseball well enough to realized the rivalry I was witnessing.
So, who to root for? Which team did I belong with? It's typically a very obvious answer in accordance to where I am or who I'm with, but I had some sort of affiliation to both these teams. It was not a strange sensation in not knowing who I wanted to cheer for more—I've been more than indifferent when it comes to sports situations before. It was strange because I had a choice. I was born in St. Louis. I can take as much of that with me throughout my life. Chicago is where I live now, but I tend to get very proud of the places I'm not in whenever I'm elsewhere, so something kept pulling me towards St. Louis.
I ended up wearing a green jacket and a purple scarf to the game—colors totally ambiguous to any fan associations.
Forever indecisive,
--molly
I'm beginning my list of summer shopping must-haves! The maxi skirt (if I can find one long enough) will definitely be included.
I'm campaigning for a copy of this Denver print (by January Jones on Etsy) to go up somewhere in the apartment.
A list of the top ten DIY blogs—how I've been procrastinating this week.
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