Those self-same agribusinesses also supply the majority of the customers to the food bank, because the field workers are paid so very little.

Toward the end, he learned that other food that had been coming from government sources was being diverted to the Pentagon to make Meals Ready to Eat. 

It was enough to break his heart, at least for a while.  And the current economic conditions in the country aren’t helping matters particularly.  So he applied to Orono this week, and we’ll see how it goes.

The weather didn’t help anyone’s mood particularly, either.  On Saturday, I helped out over at Woolwich Day, but the threatened rain was keeping folks away, although the heavens didn’t really open up until after the yard sale, which was a blessing.

On Sunday, I went down to pick Tristan up at the airport, and got caught in a serious deluge.  Somehow, his plane landed anyway, but it was a near thing.  We drove back up to Bath like little old ladies, and even stopped at one point because we couldn’t see.

Then, though, the skies cleared and according to the Sea Dogs ticket agent, the game was going to happen anyhow.  I was skeptical, but what do I know about such things?  Turns out, I know quite a lot.

So we and Rudie the Dog went down for the Bark in the Park event, a fundraiser for Planet Dog Foundation, which is Rudie’s favorite charity.  They do things like support rescue organizations, and are all around good folks.  I strongly recommend them if you are looking for a place to park a few dollars, and so does Rudie. 

Bark in the Park was basically just a day when dogs were allowed in the bleachers, after taking a little walk around the warning track.

The game was supposed to start at 1 p.m., but didn’t.  The guys came out on the field, jumped in puddles we couldn’t see, got together in little huddles, and half an hour later announced that they’d look at the field in another half an hour.

So we kicked back, walked Rudie the Dog around the little back yard grassy area over at Hadlock Field, bought hot dogs and pizza and beer and lemonade, depending on inclination, and waited.

Kids came over and made a fuss over Rudie and the other hundred dogs.  Rudie got a little rear-end sniffing in, ate some pizza, and drank some water.

Then the guys came out again, walked over the field, jumped in more invisible puddles, and went back into this super serious huddle, from which they refused to emerge.

The kids behind us were yelling, “Start the Game! Start the Game!”

I yelled, “I could have stayed home and done LAUNDRY!”

Which was true, but even so, Chris and Tristan laughed their heads off.

Eventually, it became clear that no one was planning to start a game any time soon.  Rudie was getting tired, so we decided to go.

It was a good call, because the games were eventually canceled anyway.

Tristan, our son and heir, was exhausted, too, because he’d been on the redeye from California.

When we got home, we went to the grocery store and bought pitifully few things for almost a hundred dollars.  We were all  pretty thoroughly depressed by the weekend in general, except that our kid was home visiting, which was a good thing.

Chris barbequed, and I made some cornbread, and we had our first meal together as a family since Christmas. And then Tristan went out for a bit to visit some old friends, and we collapsed in the living room, watching some other silly ball game. 

And finally, I did laundry. 

Some weekends are better than others.  This one was not a lot of fun.  But hey, the sun is out today, and I’m feeling a bit more hopeful.