Bring on the World Series.

Alrighty, folks, step right up! This here's yer handy dandy guide to rootin' for the Royals in the World Series. Come Tuesday night, you'll know all the ins and outs of the Royals lineup like you're keeping a scorecard in your pants.

The Postseason.

Ah, Autumn. You're such a baseball purist. Ever since the Royals started their postseason run, Mother Nature has made sure the wily winds bring in a cold chill. When they played the Astros in Game 1 of the ALDS it was a cool 63 degrees - then there was a downpour, a rain delay, and a cold wind running wild through the stadium. I convinced myself (against my better judgement) that I could stick it out, that the happy little rally towel the delightful staff by the front gate had given us was a magical heating device that could keep my body warmth trapped underneath it on my lap. I would say I've never been so cold in my life, except the next day it was all of 61 degrees but without the rain. I remember walking up to the gate for the second time and seeing so many brilliant, brilliant drunk people wrapped in fleece blankets. There are moments in life when your entire world changes. Realizing I could bring a blanket in to a baseball game just happens to be one of them.

Fields of Green.

This weekend was the first of what I hope to be many autumn weather weekends here in Kansas City. The mornings were nippy, but the sun managed to keep me warm even with a cool breeze. Since H had things he wanted to do at the house (did I mention we got Google Fiber?), I decided to trek to a place called Powell Gardens. It's heralded as Kansas City's botanical gardens, and it did not disappoint.

Boats and Rows ... of Vegetables.

A couple of weeks ago H and I had the distinct pleasure of hosting some particularly awesome visitors. H's younger brother, his wife, their cutie-pie baby girl, and H's youngest brother drove up from the land of the longhorn to spend the weekend with us. From the moment I came home from work on Friday, it felt like I was on vacation. We ate, we laughed, we did silly things to make the baby smile. I never realized how incredible a baby's smile was until I had a niece.

One of our adventures that weekend included a trip to the heart of Kansas City to see the Steamboat Arabia. This ship was carrying a variety of pre-Civil War goods and over a hundred people along the Missouri River when something in the water snagged the hull and the ship began to sink. Fortunately, everyone on board was a rational thinker and managed to fit into the few lifeboats and row to shore. The ship sank slowly but surely, dragging along the river floor to its final resting place in the Missouri River. 136 years later, a crazy family of excavators decided they wanted to dig the damn thing up.

My favorite pic from the trip. What an awesome anchor. 

I don't remember if the museum had to piece this wheel
back together, but it's impressive nonetheless. 

Millions of hand painted buttons were excavated from the wreck. 

I've wanted to go here since we moved to Kansas City, and I'm so glad that we went. The only disappointing part was the gift shop - I was all geared up to purchase some small wooden piece of the boat when all they had was inspirational posters and paperweights.

Just behind the museum was the Central Market. I'd heard it described as one of the best farmers markets in KC - restaurants line the outside square of the market, buying many of their ingredients from the vendors that fill the stalls. It was early afternoon when we went to take a looksie, so the vendors were starting to close up shop for the day. This ended up working in our favor. We found bananas at one dollar for five pounds, cherries at one dollar for two pounds, strawberry one-pound packets for a dollar each.

I really liked walking through one of the stores set into the outer ring of buildings. It felt like a middle eastern, possibly Indian store with buckets of dried fruits, raw and roasted nuts, and walls lined with packaged goods (which I like to think were all manners of cookies). There was a spice table (the bay leaves were solidly overpriced, but there was this amazing smelling dry rub), and a tiny restaurant (the line took to long to get anything), and a beautiful table of tea leaves. Incredible blends, but a bit too expensive for my taste.

It was a perfect way to end the weekend, and I wish I had taken a few pictures of the market. It's on the northern part of the city, which is outside my five-minute drive policy to any grocery place. It was nice to see how the big city does farmers markets, though.

Fireflies and Fireworks.

It's been raining here almost every day. This last Thursday I was driving directly into the path of a giant thunderstorm cell that decided to start birthing tornadoes. That is to say, I was driving home and the weather guy on the radio was successfully throwing me into hysterics by telling me exactly where the tornadoes were seven miles from my house. I admitted to H when I walked in that I was a little freaked out, and asked if would he mind terribly if we turned down the volume on the baseball game and turned up the sound from the live studio weatherman feed on the computer. H obliged, and while he spent the evening enjoying a lively game of If I Hit It Will They Catch It?, I was glued to the screen while an unrealistically calm camera man in a helicopter pointed out how close to the ground the rotating clouds appeared to be. After an hour I finally calmed down to a less-than-red-alert level of scaredy-pants. H turned to me and asked, "Do you want to watch something on Netflix?". As I inhaled to say, "I think that would be swell," the tornado sirens sprung to life once again.

Our house sits on what I like to call a 'hill', with a small dip in the backyard. It's barely noticeable until a thousand gallons of rainwater band together and start to flood the dip. I never really understood what the phrase "sheets of rain" meant until that night.

The rain started really showing us who's boss after that. I took this video, and then a second less than ten minutes later. We had a righteous river crossing at least six household yards as far as I could see.

I know what you're thinking. Why was H more interested in baseball than the scary thunderstorm threatening to sink our house boat? At least now I know what we are and are not bringing with us into the storm shelter we use as a basement. Phones? Check. Blanket? Check. Canned goods? Not unless we plan on being down there for more than a day, and at that point we would probably be flooded. Mattress to protect us from the rest of the house falling down on top of us? I voted yes, but H voted against it. I am confident enough in my mattress carrying capabilities to say that H will be thanking me later in the event that a tornado tries to crater our household. 

I have never lived in a city that allows fireworks. I can still remember sitting on top of my father's truck cabin, watching the illegal fireworks go off from our neighborhood. I asked someone at work a week prior to the Fourth what the state laws were on fireworks, and they said it was mainly city to city. As it turns out, our city is one that allows fireworks as long as the setter-offer has an easily obtainable permit of sorts. As such, the entire week leading up to the Fourth we endured fireworks shows every single night within the neighborhood. The day of the Fourth, people were setting off fireworks all the live long day.  When H came home from the ballgame, we took a splendid walk around the neighborhood and enjoyed all of the festive bangs. It was like walking through a war zone, with the smell of gunpowder lingering in the air, a light fog hugging the ground, and the constant bang-bang-bang of celebratory poppers. I cannot wait until next year to experience the walk again.

Every night since before the holiday (up to a week, I believe), there has been a remarkable event happening outside our home. Fireflies have been spotted - even on the night of the terrible storm - and while it is quite difficult to take a photo of a lightning bug, I believe I may have done it.

A still photo. Yes, that one pixel is the light of a firefly. H claims I Photoshopped this. 

Fireflies are remarkable creatures. They remind me of a few things, but most strongly of watching Grave of the Fireflies with my father. What a remarkable movie.

And that, I believe, is all for now in the land of Kansas City. Tune in next time for Anna Kills a Fat Spider Without Remorse. Spoiler: the spider dies a slow and painful death.