My brother gave me a baseball, a hardball earlier this year. I love the way a baseball feels in my hand. I keep it perched in a rocks glass next to my recliner. Somehow that seemed appropriate. On those rare occasions when I am in my recliner and awake, I hold the baseball, squeeze it, bounce it off the arm of the chair.
I enjoy this.
This morning it was sitting in the rocks glass in such a way that the word China was facing me. I have noticed this before, but today it smacked me in the face.
A baseball with the word China on it.
I find that disturbing.
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