If there's one undeniable thing about New England it's that we are a sports town. Even when our teams suck.... like Patriots in the 80's suck.... we are still die hard fans. It's almost sacrilegious to not follow any sports, but alas... I am not a sports fanatic.
Sure, I will watch my share of hockey and soccer. They move fast enough to hold my attention. Basketball has grown on me, mostly because I have figured out how to (mostly) block out the squeaky sneaker sounds. But football? Forget it. Actually, the only thing I truly find appealing about football is the super bowl nachos. And not even the tight pants and nice buns of baseball will entice me to turn the channel. That is unless of course, you throw in reasonable seats at Fenway, a beautiful day, and all I can eat hot dogs and fudge sundaes... because then it becomes an event... not just a sport.
Mmmmm ice cream... where was I? Ah, yeah... my avoidance of sports.
I am also not too proud to say that I avoided sports entirely for the better part of the boys' early years. There was no T-Ball, no Mighty Mites hockey, not even a rec league soccer game. As a single mom it was very hard to just juggle work, day care, and the basics of keeping them alive, and while I eventually caved and put them both into a rec league dodgeball event (6 weeks, 2 times a week, same league) and Youngest experimented in Karate (made it all the way to his blue belt) I had successfully navigated my way around every "team" sport and all of the mind numbing, time sucking, soccer mom-ing that came with it.
Until 3rd and 4th grade, respectively, and the basketball rec league took over our lives. The first year wasn't so bad. Even though the boys were on different teams they were in the same league. The second and third years, Tony coached on both leagues, which meant 4 nights a week, and that from November to February the living room was fair game for running plays and faking out your opponent...from 6am to 10pm. We also had multiple snow cancellations those years, so the February end date pushed straight into mid March, where we lived and breathed the full effects of March "madness".
Youngest likes the rec. league. He can suck and no one cares, he'll always get playing time, and he can goof off with his friends. Oldest has always been more competitive, trying out for the 7th grade school team as well, knowing full well with 42 kids trying out and two spots to fill, he'd likely never make it. And he didn't. He went on to play rec. league, and when summer came, he signed up for the High School's skills clinic.
In eight grade he tried out again. About 60 kids this time, with about 10 spots to fill. He made the first and second cuts, but failed to make the final. Disappointed, he went back to rec. league where again, he worked on his skills, enrolled in the summer clinic, and joined a summer tournament league where they got their arses handed to them every. single. game. But he showed up for every game and practice, one of only 3 kids that consistently did, and it showed.
The recreational league for High School here is limited. Perhaps their is a lack of interest by that age, or a lack of gym space, but it leaves a lot to be desired. None the less, Oldest was fine with playing rec again, but wanted to tryout for the freshman team. I was less than enthused. To be honest, I just didn't want him heartbroken again, and his practice ethics from the summer tourney league were waning. I tried to prepare him for the blow.
"You're not practicing enough."
"There's a LOT of kids trying out, and not many spots."
"You don't have the stamina."
"Imagine the practices of the summer tourney league, but WAY harder."
Yes, I know... parents of the year. But we wanted him to be prepared.
He ignored us completely. A hundred and sixty dollars and an updated physical later, he was trying out, one of 30 kids for what would inevitably be maybe four not already determined spots.
He was exhausted every practice. The other kids said he'd never make it.... he'd never made a team. The coaches yelled at him every practice to work harder, get faster, stay focused. And yet, he just kept coming back, even when his enthusiasm wavered and he began to rethink his choice, he didn't quit.
And, he made the team.
We have never been so proud to have been so wrong. Season started in November, right after Thanksgiving. They practice SIX days a week for an hour and a half every day. They play a full rotation, and work their b-ass-kets off. He doesn't get much playing time, and tonight as I finally made it to an away game, he got no playing time. But he is there, working hard, belonging to the team. Slowly the team is taking shape, and while their record sucks, it is slowly coming together.
The plan was never for him to play JV. When he initially watched the tryouts they had to endure it was completely off the table. Now, it's peaking his interest. The JV coach has started noticing him, he gets along well with the other players, it's less like work and more like play...sometimes... others times it's more like "I can't move even my eyelashes, can you get me some chocolate milk?" But he's thinking about it. And this time, I am sitting quiet.
Because as much as I want to protect him from falling, I have never been so proud of his determination.
Even if all he ever does is warm the bench.
Tuesday, January 12, 2016
Thursday, January 7, 2016
The Year Of New...
Christmas eve 2015 was a bit of a mess for me. Not so much a nightmare, but more of a day of irritations and disappointments. The days started out as routine as any, my getting ready for work, the last day of my eleven day stretch. Showered, check. Dressed, check. I was standing in the bathroom, hair pulled back into the perfect pony tail when , snap... the elastic goes flying and lands in the toilet. And for some ungodly reason, decent hair elastics are like searching for the pot of gold in this house.
After about 15 minutes of destroying the bathroom closet I come up with one, hastily throw my hair back up, and head out the door. Getting in the car I can see something is.... off.... like everything is out of where it usually is.... off. Apparently, not just 10 feet away from our bedroom window someone had decided to break into my car and look for some last minute Christmas goodies. *sigh*
They took nothing, of course, because I keep nothing of real value in my car, but it was hugely violating, on Christmas Eve no less. Undeterred, I went to work, swinging by the Police Station on the way. Apparently my neighbor's car had also been broken into for some stocking stuffers of cash and 2 packs of smokes.
Work dragged through the day, customers coming to the counter over and over wanting to know why their package wasn't there. None of them seeing or even acknowledging that I had done 3 package runs the day before to ensure every over priced, last minute, after thought purchase of theirs was available for pick up. Whatever. Nearing the tail end of my day, I started having sharp pains in my back and discovered that my Dear Aunt Flo was indeed showing up right on time for the holidays.
I hate her.
Onward to my mother's to retrieve the boys, drove 40 minutes home, nearly hit the neighborhood coyote who clearly has seen better days, squared away the kids, and waited for Tony to arrive home with Bonus Brother so we could all go to my sister's (3 miles from where I just came from) as a family. Of course, by the time he picked him up, dropped off the gifts for his nieces and nephews's empty house, the two of them had found better plans. His texts to his family went unanswered, as did his calls, and he was left to celebrate his mother's birthday alone. Trying to salvage his day, the two of them called to say they were going to see Star Wars, and I trucked the boys back to my sister's house alone, where we exchanged gifts and smiled pretty as the chaos insured, fielding questions of why my husband was not there.
Exhausted, I headed home around 730, to find, Dory, the female of my mated pair of clown fish, that we have watched and loved for five years, dead. The male, Hunky, died later on Christmas morning, finishing off the tank. I had started the tank with them, and they just couldn't survive this new strain of bacteria that took over the community.
It was a sad, sad night. Made even sadder by the fact that I couldn't even stay awake until midnight to open gifts. Around 9 pm Tony arrived home, and at 10:30 we decided to just open everything. Fifteen minutes later, I was passed out in bed ready to put Christmas and all things December, behind me.
Christmas was uneventful but nice. We visited my brother's and I caught up on laundry. The rest of the week slid into the next. I have often found that awkward week between Christmas and New Years difficult, having lost all sense of what day it is and where I am supposed to be. None the less, we rang the New Year in as we usually do....
...completely asleep by 9 pm.
2016
A year for new things.
Things like, locking the car every night, and enjoying the new roof that doesn't leak, or the trim that will not rot.
Or, like deleting the Face Book app off my phone in an effort to make more actual face time this year and setting up the Chrome Cast to try and cut the "cable" cord.
Even opening a new deodorant seemed appropriate considering the year we'd had. Never let them see you sweat, right?
And accepting that I do not have the time for salt water fish anymore....
Freshwater cichlids this time. We've started out the tank with some yellow labs and some blue striped guys that I can't remember the name of. I am enjoying them more than I thought I would, watching them make caves in the sand, collecting their food pellets, hoarding them in their new homes. The best part my be that they are a fraction of the cost of salt water fish, are decently hardy, and the tank set up cost us nearly nothing. The stone you see in the background is extra flag stone we had in the back yard, stacked into caves.
It's a new year...
...and time to make the old new again.
After about 15 minutes of destroying the bathroom closet I come up with one, hastily throw my hair back up, and head out the door. Getting in the car I can see something is.... off.... like everything is out of where it usually is.... off. Apparently, not just 10 feet away from our bedroom window someone had decided to break into my car and look for some last minute Christmas goodies. *sigh*
They took nothing, of course, because I keep nothing of real value in my car, but it was hugely violating, on Christmas Eve no less. Undeterred, I went to work, swinging by the Police Station on the way. Apparently my neighbor's car had also been broken into for some stocking stuffers of cash and 2 packs of smokes.
Work dragged through the day, customers coming to the counter over and over wanting to know why their package wasn't there. None of them seeing or even acknowledging that I had done 3 package runs the day before to ensure every over priced, last minute, after thought purchase of theirs was available for pick up. Whatever. Nearing the tail end of my day, I started having sharp pains in my back and discovered that my Dear Aunt Flo was indeed showing up right on time for the holidays.
I hate her.
Onward to my mother's to retrieve the boys, drove 40 minutes home, nearly hit the neighborhood coyote who clearly has seen better days, squared away the kids, and waited for Tony to arrive home with Bonus Brother so we could all go to my sister's (3 miles from where I just came from) as a family. Of course, by the time he picked him up, dropped off the gifts for his nieces and nephews's empty house, the two of them had found better plans. His texts to his family went unanswered, as did his calls, and he was left to celebrate his mother's birthday alone. Trying to salvage his day, the two of them called to say they were going to see Star Wars, and I trucked the boys back to my sister's house alone, where we exchanged gifts and smiled pretty as the chaos insured, fielding questions of why my husband was not there.
Exhausted, I headed home around 730, to find, Dory, the female of my mated pair of clown fish, that we have watched and loved for five years, dead. The male, Hunky, died later on Christmas morning, finishing off the tank. I had started the tank with them, and they just couldn't survive this new strain of bacteria that took over the community.
It was a sad, sad night. Made even sadder by the fact that I couldn't even stay awake until midnight to open gifts. Around 9 pm Tony arrived home, and at 10:30 we decided to just open everything. Fifteen minutes later, I was passed out in bed ready to put Christmas and all things December, behind me.
Christmas was uneventful but nice. We visited my brother's and I caught up on laundry. The rest of the week slid into the next. I have often found that awkward week between Christmas and New Years difficult, having lost all sense of what day it is and where I am supposed to be. None the less, we rang the New Year in as we usually do....
...completely asleep by 9 pm.
2016
A year for new things.
Things like, locking the car every night, and enjoying the new roof that doesn't leak, or the trim that will not rot.
Or, like deleting the Face Book app off my phone in an effort to make more actual face time this year and setting up the Chrome Cast to try and cut the "cable" cord.
Even opening a new deodorant seemed appropriate considering the year we'd had. Never let them see you sweat, right?
And accepting that I do not have the time for salt water fish anymore....
Freshwater cichlids this time. We've started out the tank with some yellow labs and some blue striped guys that I can't remember the name of. I am enjoying them more than I thought I would, watching them make caves in the sand, collecting their food pellets, hoarding them in their new homes. The best part my be that they are a fraction of the cost of salt water fish, are decently hardy, and the tank set up cost us nearly nothing. The stone you see in the background is extra flag stone we had in the back yard, stacked into caves.
It's a new year...
...and time to make the old new again.
Saturday, January 2, 2016
The Witching Ball...
A witching ball is a colorful blown ball of glass, with delicate strands of glass left inside that hangs from the window. None of them are exactly the same. Legend has it that as the evil spirits and mojo enters your home, it would get caught in the strands, trapping it inside, rendering it harmless.
So of course, I had to have one.
After years of looking, I found one in the colors I wanted in a small gift store in Hyannis. Swirls of light blues and peaches, it hangs in the window of the sun room, gathering about as much evil mojo as dust now a days.
And while I am a rational person that knows that life is no more than a series of ebbing and flowing, there are days when I look at it and think to myself, "Maybe this thing's just so chock full of bad mojo that stuff's getting through."
Over the last few months, there's been a lot of days when I succumb to the superstition and I think maybe it's time to get a new one. I'd love to have one custom blown at the glass blowing place down the street, but given that it took me years to find the first one and that custom ones can be quite pricey, the idea has been long since thrown to the back burner.
Christmas was very simple this year, particularly for Tony and myself. Along with a 7 pound Resse's peanut butter cup, I had all of Tony's mother's photographs put into an album. And, after asking for a gift list virtually everyday, I finally told Tony to get me a waterproof camera, since my last one took a swim, so it was not unexpected when I opened a small Nikon camera, in highly visible neon yellow, along with a new memory card on Christmas morning. But quite unexpectedly, along side it, professionally wrapped in paper unlike all the rest, sat another small box with my name on it.
He had gone off the list Pen Pals....
Carefully wrapped in purple tissue paper was another witching ball.
Dark blue and purple, it reminds me of the rainbow iridescence you would see in an oil spill on the water's surface. It's hanging in the first of the four windows in the sun room, one window away from it's compliment, ready and waiting to catch this year's evil mojo as it's happens upon our home.
Because while know that we are due for an upswing of good fortune soon, a little witching magic never hurt anyone.
So of course, I had to have one.
After years of looking, I found one in the colors I wanted in a small gift store in Hyannis. Swirls of light blues and peaches, it hangs in the window of the sun room, gathering about as much evil mojo as dust now a days.
And while I am a rational person that knows that life is no more than a series of ebbing and flowing, there are days when I look at it and think to myself, "Maybe this thing's just so chock full of bad mojo that stuff's getting through."
Over the last few months, there's been a lot of days when I succumb to the superstition and I think maybe it's time to get a new one. I'd love to have one custom blown at the glass blowing place down the street, but given that it took me years to find the first one and that custom ones can be quite pricey, the idea has been long since thrown to the back burner.
Christmas was very simple this year, particularly for Tony and myself. Along with a 7 pound Resse's peanut butter cup, I had all of Tony's mother's photographs put into an album. And, after asking for a gift list virtually everyday, I finally told Tony to get me a waterproof camera, since my last one took a swim, so it was not unexpected when I opened a small Nikon camera, in highly visible neon yellow, along with a new memory card on Christmas morning. But quite unexpectedly, along side it, professionally wrapped in paper unlike all the rest, sat another small box with my name on it.
He had gone off the list Pen Pals....
Carefully wrapped in purple tissue paper was another witching ball.
Dark blue and purple, it reminds me of the rainbow iridescence you would see in an oil spill on the water's surface. It's hanging in the first of the four windows in the sun room, one window away from it's compliment, ready and waiting to catch this year's evil mojo as it's happens upon our home.
Because while know that we are due for an upswing of good fortune soon, a little witching magic never hurt anyone.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)