Five Pounds of Salsa

Every Tuesday, rain or shine (really just shine or spitting but it sounds better this way), David, myself, and typically a few other people, though they vary, go about 40 minutes away to a baseball field in the middle of nowhere to watch our friend Jess play church league softball. Every week we also bring enos to hang off the fence and bleachers so that we can sit/lay in utmost comfort for our viewing pleasure.

Two days ago the softball crew was a mere Susannah and David. So we set up his eno and settled in to watch the playing of the softball.

What’s really fantastic about us watching softball is that neither of us really knows how it works, so we primarily yell at Jess as he goes up to bat, and lay in the hammock talking about random stuff that does not pertain to softball. Then, even though we aren’t really watching consistently, we are still offering moral support.

Last Tuesday (two days ago) was a particularly nice night. We spent the car ride over jamming to Weezer, Kanye West, The Decembrists, and Circe Survive, amongst other artists. Once we arrived we set out to place the eno, which we planted and had nicely arranged ourselves just as we noticed we were next to the wrong dugout. Oh well. It was too much energy to try and move it to a more ideal hanging spot.

The beginning was full of amusement. There was a particularly cute kid that I watched run back and forth and back and forth whilst David talked about Circe Survive performing live. There was a man who said “I’ve made a mistake” that started running away for no apparent reason, which was hilarious as “I’ve made a huge mistake” was uttered immediately by both David and myself, I laughed for about a minute. That may have been excessive, but it was particularly amusing to me.

So, about 30 minutes into watching softball/laying in a hammock a guy on the opposite team said, and I quote: “I wish I had 5 pounds of salsa that I could pour on them and make a taco.” I heard the whole quote and thought it was strange. David only heard half of it : “I wish I had 5 pounds of salsa that I could pour on them.” Even more range because it’s so open ended. This was followed by a multitude of questions questioning (imagine that!) his methods. If he could have anything to pour on us, why salsa? Isn’t that a tad bit malicious? What about Gatorade? Water? Sour cream? It was only after this that I explained he wanted to make a taco, which solved the mystery, but only in part. I wish I would’ve asked taco guy why he wanted to pour salsa on us and make a taco, only I didn’t know which one was taco guy, and I thought it might be strange to randomly ask, not that is wasn’t strange to want to pour salsa on poor unsuspecting couples in hammocks at church league softball games…I rest my case.


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