Why I Don't Drink Martinis at Little League Games

I have friends who bring "drinks" to their children's baseball games. I can be seen eyeing their Sonic cups with more than a tiny glint of envy. I know what's in those cups, mixing perfectly with some innocent looking berry slushy. I'm sure that as long as there have been Little League games, there have been mom's happily enjoying their tasty concoctions with nobody the wiser. Oh sure, the occasional team mom may trip merrily across that slightly tipsy line into full blown, "That umpire is blind! My baby was safe!" drunken rant. But rarely. Most are just looking for a chance to relax and unwind after a long day at work, but there's no time, between washing clothes, cooking dinner, and picking up styrofoam balls for the Milky Way Galaxy model that is due tomorrow. I, however, don't have drinks at Little League games. It's because I'm a great big chicken and I have terrible luck! The first time I tried to get by with a sneaky little drink, I'm sure I would run into my Preacher or the police chief. Either one is a possibility, and I would certainly look guilty. I'll just wait til I get home and get a load of clothes in the wash and struggle to put together my third galaxy...if I had thought ahead, I would have recycled. Of course Pluto still had status when my oldest and I made our first model. I'll go now, but not without giving you a link to http://www.magnoliasandmartinis.com/ . See you at the ballfield!