OK. There was pie.

Friday night, beer on the front porch while DD unwound from a nasty work week. Beer at the game, in which C.C. Sabathia pitched a stellar complete-game three-hitter. Beer after the game in the sports bar up the street from HP and DD’s house while we watched the conclusion of the Cavs game six loss. Beer at the Mad Scientist’s home in Lakewood (his own creations, by the way — a decent pale ale and a very nice lager). And still more beer on the porch when we got home.

Lots of beer and not enough hot dogs — or any other kinds of food, for that matter — made for a rough Saturday. We didn’t go to the game, but The Wife and I did take a trip into town Saturday afternoon to the West End Market, where she insisted that we purchase a huge freakin’ key lime pie for the four of us and a smaller peach cobbler pie for me. While DD’s band was playing for a bunch of allegedly grown-up preppy boys across town, HP, The Wife and me had big-ass burgers for dinner and sat on the porch. Ate some pie. Low-key. Nice. And probably necessary.

On Sunday morning, we had breakfast at The Place To Be (our second visit of the weekend) with Charlie and Teresa. We got to see pictures of Jay’s missing toofus. And then we headed home. After losing on Saturday, the Indians won Sunday’s rubber match, giving me Supreme Baseball Bragging Rights in these part for the next two years, when the Indians and the Pirates next play again. And for dessert, Sunday night at work, I had more pie.

That, boys and girls, was an excellent weekend. And I’m going to go eat some pie.