Movies, arguments with certain men who share my last name, Mormon commercials, any page from this book, almost all Christmas carols, lots of songs, certain youtubes, and church - oh. I almost feel like reaching in the collection plate and taking back my money if a few tears are not summoned on a Sunday morning.
Sometimes it's very cathartic, and in a way that no man will ever understand, we just need a good cry.
But, there are other times when you don't want to cry. Like, at work, for instance. I used to hate it when I cried at work! (at my current job, I would just fit right in.) Or, when your flight home from She Speaks has been delayed for hours and no one at Continental will give you the dignity of a reason why. Or, like, last week at the pediatric GI's office where I waited weeks for an appointment and had to scrounge up a babysitter for three other kids and showed up with my still can't poop daughter only to be told that their appointment girl had completely screwed up (I knew it) and scheduled me for a totally random day when I was going to be out of town anyway and they could try and squeeze me in no promises but they were already running three hours behind so maybe I could make another appointment for sometime in September.
You know, hypothetically, something like that.
Times like that, tears will only embarrass you.
Here is my solution: Think about baseball.
It works, y'all, trust me, I don't know why, but it does.
I can't remember who taught me this, but when I am about to lose it, I just picture a baseball diamond in my head, with guys in caps and knickers running around it and - voila. I regain composure almost instantly.
A friend of mine had to put it to a big test last summer, when attending an incredibly sad funeral. We discussed the baseball remedy and afterwards, I asked her how it went. "Well," she said, "just baseball didn't quite work. But then I thought about chipmonks playing baseball, and then I could hold it together."
So there ya go.
Think about baseball.
More tips you can't live without here at Rocks in my Dryer.