Astrogirl and her Astros

The Wizard goes tonight.

For Astrogirl, this bit of news is enough to halt the outside world, to constrict it to the confines (this evening) of Minute Maid Park, where (this evening) we catch the broadcast of Our Really Something Special, eg, Roy Oswalt, starting pitcher for the Houston Astros.

This (you must understand) where Astrogirl shines. Astrogirl is a wonderful cook, a wonderful teacher, a wonderful daughter, and will soon be a splendid wife. In all of these capacities she fails to measure up to her true role in life: a screaming, insane, all-knowing, fan of her beloved Houston Astros.

As the saying goes, no zealot like a convert.

In the first the Wizard allows a lead-off home run, but that is it. 6-1 Astros.

Astrogirl goes home happy.

Astrogirl plans a trip.

"I want to go to an island," she says.

"Which one?"

"The one near Massachusetts."

"Nantucket?"

"No," she says. "The other one. Martha Stewart."

Astrogirl on our biggest fan

A reader writes in:

Are you saying you're dating Jessica Simpson, or what?

Astrogirl's response: "No, I'm not Jessica Simpson, or even like her. I know what the Secretary of the Interior does."

Which is?

"Forests and things. He hangs out with Yogi and Boo-Boo.

Close enough.

"So there."

Astrogirl on football

She: "Why do all those football players go to a crime scene?"

Me: "Yes?"

She: "Those college football players going to the pros."

Me: "What about them?"

She: "How they have to go to a crime scene."

Me: "Huh?"

She: "I heard. They're going to Columbine."

Astrogirl watches "Lost"

She says to me: "On the island. Do you think they're suffering from the Stockhold Syndrome?"

Me: "The what?"

She: "The Stockhold Syndrome. It's what happens when they hold you, like in a Stockade."

Astrogirl plays golf

Coming off the seventh green.

Me: "Wow. Did you just get a bird?"

She crinkles her face. "No. I don't care for wild game."

Astrogirl at the gym

So: we've decided to get in shape, Astrogirl and I.

Our physical trainer is Larry, a handsome six-foot-three dynamo of sinew and good looks.

After our workout, in Larry's office, Astrogirl asks Larry where he's from.

"Dallas for awhile," he says. "And then D.C."

"Oh," Astrogirl asks, impressed. "You mean Washington, D.C.?"

Larry looks at me, then at her. "Yes. Of course, I didn't live in the city. A little while in Maryland, a little while in Virginia."

He excuses himself to Xerox our nutrition plan. Astrogirl looks at me. "Did he say he lived in D.C. or not."

"He commuted," I say. "Have you heard of an exurb?"

"Like a passage from a book?"

"No," I say. "That's an excerpt. An exurb. A bedroom community."

"Oh," she says. "You mean like a sex town?"

"No," I say. "Like a commuter town."

"With sex."

"No," I say. "Just a commuter town."

She says, "Do you think he'd be embarrassed if I asked him if he lived in a sex town?"

"Sweetheart," I say. "He'll tell you he didn't live in a sex town."

"I guess," she said. "Something like that would be embarrassing."

"Except," I said, "He didn't live in a sex town."

"But you told me he did," she insisted.

"No," I said. "You did."

"Oh."