Hey, Summer Sun, your love's divine // Never before I've met your kind // (and now you're mine)

Nothing much better when the summer sun is shining than to let the Nat. Pastime wash over you. And with Detroit basically the sports capital of this star-spangled nation the last 1-2 years (holding it down with the NBA Finals the last two, Golf's U.S. Open, Super Bowl XL in Jan.) and this weekend brought the eye of the country (for better or worse) onto Motown for the baseball All Star Game. Though some were not as fortunate (with emphasis on 'fortune') as others in getting in to see the actual game, for about a week leading up to it they have had a sort of traveling circus of baseball at Cobo Hall. Isaacs, Brubaker and I strolled in Saturday and it was fabulous. Isaacs may have said it best when we stepped through the wide doors: "It's like that feeling you get when you're a kid and your parents put the car in park in the Toys 'R Us parking lot". Just everything baseball as far as the eye can go. They had memorabilia expos, a virtual batting cage (where, with the aid of actual vid. of a pro pitcher projected on a screen with a hole where the ball propelled from a pitching machine behind flies through, you could have the daylights scared out of you for 5 pitches. Though nothing like the unexpected heater the all-time H.S. leader in softball Pitching wins Brubaker threw... nay... fireballed to me the next day in a softball game, I was making ready with the will & testament after that believe you me), home plate sprinting contest (the Isaacs/Bentley 4.44" tie that will forever live in infamy), commentating booth where you can call famous plays from MLB history and you keep the tape, and more. And we got this pic (L-R; meself, looking especially insane, Jessica, Isaacs). It was a gay old time.

And no sooner do we recover from this excitement than the James Schultz, with older brother to help, drives from Washington state to here (Michigan basically) in a straight shot and arrieves Sunday night where his deserved 'For he's a jolly good fellow' celebration awaited. It was nostalgia coming from the ears almost, it was very nice. Many stories of old and new floating about as we sprinkled branches and splashed paint thinner onto the bonfire. He is a funny chap (read about him for yourself here if you like: http://www.myspace.com/dangerousgame ).

I'm still a bit soggy as I type, for a break in action for a nighttime, firefly lit dip turned into a 2 hour pow-wow of the sibs. and sharing of stories about just how bizarre a thing it is to have the last name 'Bentley'. One of those things I think that almost gets swept under the rug as 'an avg. night' and 20 years from now is worth more money or power than the 10% of my brain can comprehend.