So the World Series is tied one all, fitting to send it to San Francisco. I won’t lie; I’d LOVE the Giants to take it at home, which they have not done in their previous two wins. However, I don’t want to appear greedy, so as long as they win…
Ha, well, nothing greedy about that. I will note that this contest has brought out the small sports fan in my eldest, or maybe it’s Buttercup who appreciates the Giants, although last night’s game was hard to watch, once Jake Peavy allowed two Royals on base. But now these teams have gotten a rout from each of their systems, so perhaps the following contests will be closer. (Albeit with a San Francisco victory sealed at the end…)
But what does that have to do with peace pie? Not that much, nor does peace pie correlate with the recent news that Radium 223 is not currently being manufactured, in Norway by the only company that makes it. I accompanied my folks to Sacramento yesterday, where we learned that no radium treatments are being offered anywhere in the world. The doctor’s assistant wasn’t sure why, but we discussed other options, like Xtandi and Ketoconizol, which is an anti-fungal that just happens to work well for prostate and bone cancer patients. Dad will make an appointment with his oncologist to map out the next step, however I’m hoping that Bayer can sort out the Norwegians in a timely manner. Radium 223 would truly best serve my father at this time, and time is a most precious commodity.
Still, I hear you rumbling, “What in the hey does that have to do with peace pie? Is it some autumnal thing, baseball related, or Buttercup’s favourite dessert?” Actually, it’s what happens when I have too many fireflies flitting in my brain (thank you Laura!). My brother visited with the folks last weekend, then asked me what we were all bringing for Thanksgiving, which was his way of saying, “Hey sis, start a thread, will ya?” I complied, noting that we would bring Grandma’s fruit salad, homemade cranberry sauce, and peace pie, with perhaps some vanilla ice cream for said peach pie. Note the error? I didn’t, but my beloved little brother did, answering what in the heck was peace pie (ya hippie!)? I countered that I would also make some deviled eggs, they had to have an attitude, to which my sister replied how much she loved our family, big smiley face icon included. And I answered that yes, at lease we are entertaining.
Then Mom asked why we had a lease? And on it goes…
I said that’s what happens when I’m not writing, my spelling goes right down the loo. Which is somewhat true, in that WordPress and my email provider, as well as Word, note the misspellings, but not the erroneous miscues. Peace pie, at lease, the list is endless. Similar to Radium 223; we assumed that was the next step, but maybe not. Assuming is a tricky deal, not always for the best. Maybe it’s best to be like Buttercup, hording the remote, ready to change the channel if the Giants get wonky. And at least (not lease) Buttercup doesn’t care how I spell peach pie or at least. She just wants to eat the pie, peaceful or not.
Dad wants pie too, and while ice cream is tasting good again, he prefers Cool Whip. I also know he’d prefer radium over other treatments, just as he and I and Mom and my hubby and probably even Buttercup would prefer SF to win the Series at home. But what we prefer is at times irrelevant. All we can do is wait and see.
And eat the peach and peace pie with great big spoons. And cheer on the Giants to perhaps another World Series championship!