Watching Angels in the Outfield tonight sent my nostalgia meter soaring—the stadiums, the cars, the crocheted quilts and tweed rocking chairs of the 90’s. But this was Evelyn’s first time watching, so I got a fresh take too: “Are they up?” “How many innings are left?” “Why aren’t there any angels?” If only she’d been listening—head angel Christopher Lloyd had already explained, “When it comes to championships, we don’t intervene.”
The message of love and connection wasn’t sappy—it landed right in my solar plexus. By the ninth inning, I’d scooted over to snuggle Dave, then Evelyn climbed in, and we ended the movie in one mashed-up family pile.
That feeling was the theme of the day. At Goodwill, after picking up some clothes for Evelyn, Dave pointed out a guy leaning, elbows splayed, out across the hood of his car, phone propped to his ear. He looked so relaxed, I half-wanted to offer him a folding chair.
Then came my least-favorite event: grocery checkout. Out comes my giant tote of fifty used plastic bags. Out comes my awkward words to the bagger: “Use these…no, they’re mine…oh wait, that one has a hole.” Meanwhile, the conveyor belt keeps spitting out items like a twenty-car pileup. I fumble bags, dart my eyes, juggle the halfway-filled ones cart. By the end, it feels like I’ve performed major surgery on myself. Walking out, I told Dave, “There has to be another way. I get scattered and crazy. Every. Single. Time.”
I love checkout stories, though. Kristen once told me about being at Costco with a full cart she’d done nothing with. When the worker checking her out asked, “Is this yours?” she panicked and said yes, but then froze. The worker eventually just started unloading it for her while she stood there in awkward silence. The way she tells it? Comedic gold.
Back at home, Evelyn’s voice called from her room: “Don’t forget to check on me.” She’d misplaced Linus and Gray Sparkle (current top-ranking stuffed animals). Crisis averted—they were waiting on her loveseat.
Meanwhile, the Mariners are taking the field. The camera zoomed in on Kirby, our scrawny twenty-something pitcher. No matter what I think of him, the love and power of this team will carry him to greatness. Just like those angels earlier in the movie—when you believe, in whatever way you can, magic happens.
See you here tomorrow.
Love,
Jaclynn
Going On 40 