Olympic Women

I have watched the Olympics in marathon sessions.  I watch the big events at night and the not so big ones during the day.  Fencing?  I have no idea what it means to win or lose, but I spent an hour trying to figure it out while I folded laundry.  The Big Daddy and I talk every night about how RIPPED these athletes are and oh, if only we could have a little of that.  Back in the day I might have been a contender.  Or not……………

Swimming/Water Polo
The Queen Mum is terrified of the water and she was determined that her girls would not follow in her footsteps.  My sister and I were in beginning swim  For. Six. Years.  All you had to do to move up was to swim across the pool, but neither one of us could do it.  I finally passed when I was thirteen.  The week before, my top came off and all the six year olds that I was swimming with stared at my budding breasts.  That may have been motivating.

Synchro
In high school swimming class we had to tread water for five minutes.  My gym buddy and I made our way to the side and every time the teacher wasn’t looking we’d hang onto the edge.  We got busted and had to do five more minutes.  I used the extra time to plan my funeral and take my mind off my impending death by treading.

Basketball
My friend said that I looked like a little chicken when I ran up and down the court.  The gym teacher overheard and that was the day I was named “Peeps.”  Three days of gym class.  Four years.  Peeps.

Volleyball
I didn’t like being in front of the net where a spiked ball might hit a short girl like me in the head.  I preferred to serve, but then I would get a flaming red mark on my forearm.  I excused myself from that sport with a note I wrote from my mom for severe menstrual cramps.

Track & Field
The same friend that I cheated with in treading water said that when the gym teacher was working with the long jump girls you could walk around the hurdles instead of actually jumping over them.  This preserved your energy for later in the day when you had study hall and could get a pass to the parking lot to go smoke a ciggy.

Heptathlon
I don’t even know what this one is, but once I unloaded the dishwasher while I was breastfeeding.

Softball
I played on a team in my 20s that was supposed to be just for fun.  There is no such thing among softball players.  I ended up being the catcher because I could only throw the ball as far as the pitcher’s mound.  On a bounce.  I didn’t get asked back the following year because “they were going in a different direction.”

Running
I only ran when my brothers were trying to kill me and if I had to do it now I would need a Depends. 

Equestrian
My sister and I went horseback riding once when we were Girl Scouts.  She screamed the whole time, “HELP!  HELP!  HELP ME!!!!  PLEEEEEEZ!!!  THIS  HORSE WON’T STOP!!!!!!!!  I found that if you stood while the horse was galloping it wasn’t so bad, and if you happened to have sharted in your Official Girl Scout underpants it was a win-win strategy.

Gymnastics
I am not, nor have never been capable of, making the top half of my body do something different than the bottom half.  If you ever saw me in the way, way, way back of a Jazzercise class you would know this.  Or you would be calling 9-1-1 to report a seizure.

Boxing
One time, I borrowed my brother’s car (without his permission) and ended up backing into a gas pump.  When I came home and told my sister she said, “Holy shit.  You’re in big trouble.”  I chased her out of our bedroom with a pair of scissors and ripped the hood off her coat, but I didn’t punch her in the face because I am opposed to violence.


All these days and nights of watching these fit women has inspired me to crank up my exercise regime.  Besides taking my elderly dog on a slow, slow walk in the morning, I’ve added Jillian Michael’s 30-Day Shred.  I have done four days of it and believe you me………………It. Is. Hard.

And that’s without the weights.

Brave

I was at a party last month and deep in conversation with a friend.  As we were leaving she remarked that she admired Mark and I and thought we were brave.

Brave???  I’m terrified of the dentist, heights, merging traffic, runny eggs, any envelope from the state, crickets, yeast, the Visa bill, pain that lasts longer than ten minutes………..

I had to turn around and ask her what she meant.

“You guys put yourself out there and go for it.”

Oh, so that’s how it looks to somebody else.  Be it writing or biking or whatever else we pursue, we may have lost some of our fear, but I’d hardly call that brave.   If we were to fall flat on our face in any of these endeavors it would not be but for the thousandth time, and lookie here, we’re both still standing.

This week I took Mallie Bee to the pediatrician..  The doctor’s kids and mine went to school together and she is one of my favorite people.  I had heard she was working a retail job on the side and asked her about it.  “Oh yes,” she said, “I love it.  It’s always been something I’ve wanted to do.”  A doctor selling handbags?

“Next,” she said, “I’m going to try waitressing.  I’ve already talked to somebody who’s willing to show me the ropes.”  A doctor waiting tables?

Mallie Bee got some advice on her beat-up feet and I got a booster shot of the failure immunization.  It was a good day to be amongst the doctor and the dancer…………….

The ones who stuck their toe outside the box and changed the way they thought about everything.

Chick-Fil-A

When Chick-Fil-A came to our area, I had no idea what it was and even pronounced it wrong.  Chick-Filla.  There was a lot of buzz about the place, so I went there and then I really didn’t get it.  I pitched half of it in the dog’s bowl and never went back.

The owner has recently declared that the wrath of God will descend upon us Americans for our evolving stance on gay marriage, and while you’re free to voice your opinion about anything, it’s not exactly the best business strategy.  In his case, he didn’t have to do damage control because when you’re speaking for the Lord what can you possibly damage?

Wednesday was the day that like-minded people lined up for hours to support his business and his stance on this issue.  As an anonymous gay employee of a Chick-Fil-A in Atlanta said, “It’s Hate Appreciation Day.”  In the you’re-wrong-I’m-right-you’re-liberal-I’m-conservative world we live in, it got covered by the news complete with helicopter shots of the throngs of people waiting in line.

What a cross in life it must be to bear to be threatened by people who are in your family, your church, your neighborhood, your school, your hospital, your grocery store and your military.  What a cross in life it must be to bear to give up half your day, fight traffic, stand in the heat and spend money to support somebody you’ve never met but is as God-fearing as you.

Wow.

That’s a big commitment for something so utterly craptastic.

A Good Foundation

In this summer of extreme heat and drought, there was a news story about protecting your foundation.  For some time and a little bit of money now, you can make sure that you don’t have major foundation repairs at a later date.

We’re usually later date people.

I mentioned this to The Big Daddy and he said he was on it.  He always answers really fast when he’s not going to do something.  Tonight, he said, while you’re gone I’ll do it.

The next day I asked him how it went and damn if it didn’t slip his mind.  Tonight, he said, I will do it.  I also told him that they suggested you put more dirt around the foundation.  Not top soil, but a good clay dirt that holds moisture.  On it, he said.

The next day I asked him how it went and geez, oh man, tonight’s the night.  For sure, but first he had a better plan.

If holding in moisture around the foundation is the idea, he said, instead of getting dirt I’m going to put kitty litter there. BA. DA. BING. BA. DA. BOOM.  Helloooooooo, people, moisture holding.  Am I a genius or what?
 
What.

I thought about going down Argument Road with him, but since we both know that there will be no watering of the foundation, no moisture holding dirt, no proactive steps taken to protect that upon which our house sits, I nodded dumbly.

Just like the Tidy Cat idea.

Living The Dream

The Boy Child has not exactly had the summer he planned.  Last year he went to London and that put him on a high for months to follow.

This year he was hoping to get an internship but those were mighty hard to come by, and so for the fifth summer in a row he was back at the bagel shop.  It is one thing to go back after you’ve had an awesome overseas adventure, it’s another when it’s your only option.  Most days he’s there before the sun comes up  to wait on customers, put bagels in the oven, wash dishes and mop the floors for an eight hour shift.

The other day, a guy came in and said, “HEY YOU GUYS!!!  HOW’S IT GOIN?  WORKING HARD?  LIVING THE DREAM???

When you are wearing a ball cap and tshirt that says, “Ask me about the poppers”, and standing all day smelling like bagels, you are not living the dream.   That is impossible at $7.50 an hour.  They got his bagels and and when he couldn’t decide on a drink he said, “HEY YOU GUYS???  WHAT GETS YOU GOING IN THE MORNING???”  Vodka and cigarettes.

For the 2nd time in a few short minutes they looked at him like the gigantic ass that he was, and as much as this summer has sucked, at least The A.M. Bagel Crew doesn’t have to go through life in that guy’s skin.

Getting Orientated

Mallie Bee and I went to orientation bright and early Friday morning.  It was an all day affair with sessions for parents, sessions for students, sessions for both.  It was information overload, but most of our questions were answered and she is ready for her new adventure.

The third time’s a charm without any of the anxiety of a first-timer as I told a teary-eyed mom who looked just like me seven years ago.  You’re going to be o.k.  She’s going to be o.k.  I promise.  This is what we have to do.  Let them go.  Watch them fly.

Sitting at a table near us after lunch was a girl majoring in Slut 101.  The only thing the top of her sundress covered were her nipples leaving nothing to the imagination and she had “easy” written all over her.

Prior to leaving the room, her mother suggested she clean up her lunch remains.  The new coed let out a heavy, dramatic sigh with the obligatory eye roll, ignored her mom and walked away.  Isn’t cleaning up after themselves the sort of thing you instill in your kid when they’re three and not an adult? 

Thankfully, the majority of these kids will fly into a bright future with interests that make their heart skip a beat, but you can already predict that the wings of others will be burdened by their own garbage.

Steve The Neighbor: Part Two

On a lovely fall afternoon, three cop cars pulled up in front of the house.  Each of the cops had their hand on their holster and slowly made their way down the street to Steve The Neighbor’s house.

They knocked on his door and talked to him on his front porch.  They left awhile later and he remained behind with no handcuffs, no walk of shame, no booking at the station.

A few days later I heard the story of the Popo’s visit.

Steve the neighbor had been getting repeated telemarketer calls.  One day he said to one of them…………. “You……people…..make…..me……..so……crazy……..with……all……..this………calling I…….could….kill  ….myself.”

Steve, that’s a little dramatic.

The Telemarketer feared he really was going to kill himself and called the local cops to check on him.  When the intervention was over and all was fine, Steve The Neighbor had a unique opportunity to take advantage of a limited-time offer for a time-share in the Ozarks if he acted now.

Steve The Neighbor: Part One

Across the street, lived a lovely, elderly couple for years.  Dorothy suffered numerous health problems that resulted in her going into a nursing home.  Her husband, Steve, got cancer and died a year later.  With both parents gone from the house, Steve the Son moved in.

Steve will wave when he drives by, but mostly keeps to himself.  He’s a slow talker and when he actually does have a conversation, he will say that the goddamn taxes on the house are killing him and he’s putting the place up for sale.  He has been saying that for eight years.

One day when there wasn’t anyone else around, I needed to enlist Steve the Son’s help.

Our street was getting sealed and all the cars had to be off by the time the crew came.  The job had been postponed due to weather four different times and so I’d forgotten about it.  On that day, I noticed that there weren’t any cars on the street except The Big Daddy’s with the stickshift that I don’t know how to drive so I knocked on Steve’s door to see if he could move it for me.

Oh, and one other thing………..The Big Daddy’s car had a back tire with a slow leak that he would inflate with his bicycle pump on the rare occasion that he drove it.  I kid you not.

“Well……I……can’t…….move……it……with…….a…….flat.”   

Oh, but it’s o.k.  Here, Steve, watch.  Just go up and down with the bike pump.  See?  If you keep doing that, Steve, it will inflate and then you can move it.  Steve.

And he looked at me like I was crazy. 

“I…….think……..you……..better……call………..Mark……..for…………this.”

Well, I’ve been trying but he’s in a meeting and I can’t get a hold of him.

“Call……..his……secretary.”

His what?

“Tell……her…….you’ve…….got…….a……9…….1……..1…….emergency.”

Sheesh, Steve, it’s a car that needs to be moved not a dead body.

“Then……..tell……the…..secretary……..it’s………urgent.”

He doesn’t even have a secretary.

“He……should………get………one…….for…….when…….there’s……an…….emergency.”

We went back and forth like that for awhile until I sent him home because he was yanking on my last nerve.  Since that day he keeps even more to himself when I’m around and avoids me like I’m the the tax collector.

All because I asked for a little favor.

IKEA

I have a long post to write about the first friend I made when we moved to Maryland, but that is for another time.  The short version is that we were both far from family with newborns and husbands that worked a whole lot.  One day, Carla asked me if I wanted to make a trek with her and our babies to some store called Ikea.  It was an all day affair, and it was the first of many, many trips we would take to the Land of Swedish Meatballs, including a midnight one for the Solstice Sale.  We were serious Ikea shoppers.

When we moved to Kansas my Ikea days came to an end.  A few years after we arrived here, a new job candidate was being wined and dined for a possible position with The Big Daddy’s department.  Over the course of the dinner, the guy mentioned that he “loathes Ikea and that cheap shit they sell.”

Pssst……….somebody needs to inform Donald Trump that the job he’s after is working for the state. 

I’m not saying he didn’t get the job because some of the spouses who happen to love Ikea thought he was a flaming douche, but we may have mentioned our thoughts about him a time or thirty.

On our trip home last week, we went to the new Ikea that is only twenty minutes from my mom’s house.  Thank ya Jeezus.   Another generation has fallen under the spell of the Swedes as the New Mr. & Mrs. stocked up, and looking at the receipts on the way home we admired how much we got for so little, except we had no idea what any of it meant.