When I was younger, I lived on a military base in an island in the Pacific. My Dad was stationed there for almost 4 years. Living on a military base is somewhat similar to living in a small town; there is a movie theater, a bowling alley, several swimming pools, places to have dinner, parks, a really good teen center, grocery stores etc. There was always some kind of organized activity at the teen center - a dance or roller skating in the rink behind the center. As most moms would, our mom, in what I suspect was really a self defense mechanism, tried to tire us out as much as possible by signing us up for different activities or sports. One of my sisters, Auntie M, was especially interested in sports. I know while we were there she tried a variety including basketball and bowling. I think a few of the other sisters, Auntie L & Auntie S, also got involved in the bowling. As usual Auntie M. was pretty darn good for an 8 year old and she took part in the junior bowling leagues offered at the base bowling alley. She became very focused on bowling, so much so that she even asked for a Dick Weber bowling glove for Christmas one year. Dick Weber was a famous bowler back in the day. You don't think they name a glove for just anyone do you? I can't remember if she ever got the glove. I am sure she will let me know.
Last Christmas our family got a Wii. For those of you who just crawled out of a cave, a Wii is a video game console. What makes it different from an x-box or a play station is the wireless controller that allows you to actually participate in some of the different game options available. All Wiis come with a sports playing game, in which you can play tennis, bowling, boxing, baseball and golf. In order to participate you create your own player. There are lots of different style options so you can have your player look as much or as little like you as you want. My player does look alot like me but if I had really been thinking I would have made her look a little more Jennifer Aniston and a little less Donny Osmond. As all kids are, mine are particularly good at video games. They especially enjoy the guitar game that I am fairly certain I am too old for. I just can't seem to get my fingers working in the right way. But I can do the sports one.
So recently I decided that I would try and master a few of the sports games so I am not a total pushover when I play Kiki & Snake. I started with the tennis game. I am horribly bad at it. The last game, I hit a spectator in the stands. In fact I am so bad that I haven't ever won a match. Time to move on. I tried boxing. I am getting fairly good at boxing. But in all honesty, my Donny-Osmond-look alike self has not had much in the way of competition. The computer assigns opponents to you. So far my boxing victories have been over 2 very slightly built Asian gentlemen, a rather frail looking guy with a goatee, and several bespectacled fellows. (I am not sure people wearing glasses are usually allowed to box, though). I also tried baseball and I am not very good. I am not sure that any amount of practice will help me get any better so unless I can get some of the juice from Barry or Derek Jeter, I am thinking baseball won't be my game. But I rock at bowling! Oh yeah! I have had several turkeys (3 strikes in a row). I don't know if that have a name for when you have 4 strikes in a row but I have done that a few times as well. I think I owe it all to my rather unique bowling delivery, I throw the ball up in the air so it bounces a little. Unorthodox maybe but I scored enough points to be in the "pro" category!!! How 'bout that Dick Weber? I am guessing he doesn't have much to say as he died in 2005. So I am going to try golf later this week. Be afraid Tiger Woods, be very afraid!!
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Come On, California!!!
Okay, today I needed to call the DMV. Normally, I would rather do something fun like poke at my eyes with a toothpick but I needed some information that wasn't available on the website, so I had to call. After first advising me that all DMV offices are now closed on the first and third Fridays of everything month (thank you Ahhhnold) and then another recording to advise me that Saturday hours had been suspended (thank you California State Legislature), my "recording" advised me that "due to an increased number of calls your wait time MAY be longer than 10 minutes". 10 minutes is an incredibly long time to be on hold, even for the DMV and I didn't believe it. So I stayed on hold. and stayed. and stayed. and stayed.
This is a list of the tasks, I performed while being on hold:
1. I watched two segments of Martha Stewart cooking pork chops marinated in basalmic vinegar and preparing two pretty tasty vegetable sides that I think will be dinner tonight or tomorrow evening at the WTF household.
2. I ate lunch (a Lean Cuisine beef and portabello mushroom).
3. I finished my Starbucks Iced Tea.
4. I put in a load of laundry.
5. I folded another load out of the dryer.
6. I surveyed the creek in our back yard and wondered if it was going to overflow since it has been raining non-stop since about 9:30 a.m. today. (Most likely not, our local city works department is very wonderful about cleaning out the storm drain on a regular basis and it looks pretty good!)
7. I worried about whether the pool will over flow and should we use the sump pump tonight (and by me, I mean Chizz). Looks likely!
8. I looked for the sump pump in the garage. (Didn't find it,)
9. I reviewed the top stories in the morning newspaper. Attempted the Sudoku but got bored.
10. I put the newspaper in the recycling spot. (I am not going to finish that Sudoku!)
35 minutes, 44 seconds until Operator 2 came on the line and answered my question. All of which took about an additional 15 seconds. Great. Come on, California - this is no way to run a state.
This is a list of the tasks, I performed while being on hold:
1. I watched two segments of Martha Stewart cooking pork chops marinated in basalmic vinegar and preparing two pretty tasty vegetable sides that I think will be dinner tonight or tomorrow evening at the WTF household.
2. I ate lunch (a Lean Cuisine beef and portabello mushroom).
3. I finished my Starbucks Iced Tea.
4. I put in a load of laundry.
5. I folded another load out of the dryer.
6. I surveyed the creek in our back yard and wondered if it was going to overflow since it has been raining non-stop since about 9:30 a.m. today. (Most likely not, our local city works department is very wonderful about cleaning out the storm drain on a regular basis and it looks pretty good!)
7. I worried about whether the pool will over flow and should we use the sump pump tonight (and by me, I mean Chizz). Looks likely!
8. I looked for the sump pump in the garage. (Didn't find it,)
9. I reviewed the top stories in the morning newspaper. Attempted the Sudoku but got bored.
10. I put the newspaper in the recycling spot. (I am not going to finish that Sudoku!)
35 minutes, 44 seconds until Operator 2 came on the line and answered my question. All of which took about an additional 15 seconds. Great. Come on, California - this is no way to run a state.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
To The Mailbox? Heck Yea!
So last night there was absolutely nothing on TV. In further evidence of that fact, I submit to you that Chizz & I watched "How I Met Your Mother" with Snake. Snake likes the show quite a bit. There are some cute moments, but I wouldn't set my DVR for it. However last night's episode was particularly relevant on several levels for our family.
The show centered on one of the characters who was out of work and apparently spent quite a bit of time looking for a job. As sometimes happens while participating in this kind of search, his self-confidence was taking a beating after so many rejections. The other characters commented on the fact that his "underpants radius" was becoming alarmingly large. The "underpants radius" is the radius you personally deem acceptable to walk around in your underwear. For this character, it started out just to the couch to watch television all day when he should have been job searching, then it grew to the front door to pick up the newspaper, then to the mailbox to pick up the mail and finally to a local fast food joint to eat a meal. (Yuck!) One night when they were all at their local watering hole hangout place, they decided to get burgers and the out of work character starts talking about the best burger he ever had in NY city. Apparently several years ago, when he was new to the city and didn't really know his way around he stumbled on a small hole in the wall place and had the best hamburger ever. Since that time, he has been searching for the hamburger place and has never been able to find it. The group decides they will go with him and try and find the place. They search high and low, and with Regis Philbin (because that always happens in NY) and finally they find the place and all is right with the world.
I have my own "hamburger" story. But it is not about hamburgers. And it doesn't take place in NY city. And Regis Philbin is nowhere in it. And it is not my story. But other than that it is EXACTLY the same. It is about chicken, German chicken. Hendl. Many, many, many, many years ago, Chizz went on a business trip to Germany with some work colleagues who also happened to be pretty good friends of his. As luck would have it, they went during Oktoberfest. They managed to go to quite a few tents and drink beer, eat, and have a great time. He came back and told me about this chicken, spit roasted, and it was the BEST chicken he had ever had in his entire life. He talked about that chicken for weeks. He STILL talks about that chicken. He dreamt about that chicken. So when we went back to Germany ourselves, several years later, he made me eat chicken at practically every meal, breakfast, lunch and dinner, in a search to find the elusive Oktoberfest Hendl. But it was not to be. And he has been back several times and still can't find the chicken. We have even searched for the German chicken in Belgium and Austria, but no luck. I suspect it is really not the chicken itself, but what it represented. Four young guys, no kids, in Germany drinking beer, eating chicken, freedom. Yes, symbolism because I am deep that way. (Shut up, I am too deep!)
This morning, Snake came out of his room wearing his t-shirt and boxers only, looking for a clean pair of jeans in the laundry room. I raised my eyebrows a little, because Snake very rarely wanders around in his boxers. His response? "My underpants radius is to the mailbox and back." Ha! I told him I doubt it. I mean, I love his skinny little white legs but he rarely goes around showing them off in private, let alone in public. He glared back at me, knowing I spoke the truth.
So, if you happened to be driving by our house this morning at about 7:13 a.m. that wasn't some kind of rare albino deer running across our driveway in dark blue striped boxers. That was my son, Snake. I am so proud.
The show centered on one of the characters who was out of work and apparently spent quite a bit of time looking for a job. As sometimes happens while participating in this kind of search, his self-confidence was taking a beating after so many rejections. The other characters commented on the fact that his "underpants radius" was becoming alarmingly large. The "underpants radius" is the radius you personally deem acceptable to walk around in your underwear. For this character, it started out just to the couch to watch television all day when he should have been job searching, then it grew to the front door to pick up the newspaper, then to the mailbox to pick up the mail and finally to a local fast food joint to eat a meal. (Yuck!) One night when they were all at their local watering hole hangout place, they decided to get burgers and the out of work character starts talking about the best burger he ever had in NY city. Apparently several years ago, when he was new to the city and didn't really know his way around he stumbled on a small hole in the wall place and had the best hamburger ever. Since that time, he has been searching for the hamburger place and has never been able to find it. The group decides they will go with him and try and find the place. They search high and low, and with Regis Philbin (because that always happens in NY) and finally they find the place and all is right with the world.
I have my own "hamburger" story. But it is not about hamburgers. And it doesn't take place in NY city. And Regis Philbin is nowhere in it. And it is not my story. But other than that it is EXACTLY the same. It is about chicken, German chicken. Hendl. Many, many, many, many years ago, Chizz went on a business trip to Germany with some work colleagues who also happened to be pretty good friends of his. As luck would have it, they went during Oktoberfest. They managed to go to quite a few tents and drink beer, eat, and have a great time. He came back and told me about this chicken, spit roasted, and it was the BEST chicken he had ever had in his entire life. He talked about that chicken for weeks. He STILL talks about that chicken. He dreamt about that chicken. So when we went back to Germany ourselves, several years later, he made me eat chicken at practically every meal, breakfast, lunch and dinner, in a search to find the elusive Oktoberfest Hendl. But it was not to be. And he has been back several times and still can't find the chicken. We have even searched for the German chicken in Belgium and Austria, but no luck. I suspect it is really not the chicken itself, but what it represented. Four young guys, no kids, in Germany drinking beer, eating chicken, freedom. Yes, symbolism because I am deep that way. (Shut up, I am too deep!)
This morning, Snake came out of his room wearing his t-shirt and boxers only, looking for a clean pair of jeans in the laundry room. I raised my eyebrows a little, because Snake very rarely wanders around in his boxers. His response? "My underpants radius is to the mailbox and back." Ha! I told him I doubt it. I mean, I love his skinny little white legs but he rarely goes around showing them off in private, let alone in public. He glared back at me, knowing I spoke the truth.
So, if you happened to be driving by our house this morning at about 7:13 a.m. that wasn't some kind of rare albino deer running across our driveway in dark blue striped boxers. That was my son, Snake. I am so proud.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
What Am I Listening To?????
Every morning on the ride to their various schools, Kiki takes charge of the radio within 1.5 seconds of entering the car. She plays those radio controls with a precision not known to many heart surgeons. If she is in the back seat (because she was too slow to call "shotgun" compared to Snake who has been known to knock over people in his rush to be in sight of the car) she barks out instructions to her brother "Snake, push button 5 twice. No. Try 6. No, wait - button 3 two times". All to find the perfect song for the 5 minute ride to school. We can't take the chance that the day will be ruined by accidentally listening to NPR or Jimmy Buffet, for goodness sake. Chizz doesn't allow the kids to change his radio station settings, so he doesn't have this issue. But I usually don't mind it, I am able to block the "music" out (provided the volume is somewhat under ear breaking or car vibrating decibel range). I usually run through my daily itinerary in my mind, and it is all okay. I am so good at it, that sometimes, well after I have dropped the kids off , when I get about a block from my house (like today), I realize I have been listening to Will.I.Am or Rhianna or Let it Rock by Kevin Rudolf for the past mile. Then I get embarrassed for some reason. Like I have been caught. But here is my confession, I kind of like "Let it Rock". It is irritatingly catchy (the chorus part, not the rap part). Try it and see if it doesn't follow you all day. At least in the privacy of your own home or garage or ipod.
Let It Rock - Kevin Rudolf
Let It Rock - Kevin Rudolf
Monday, January 19, 2009
It Was Brung!!
On Saturday, Chizz and I spent the morning at a cheerleading competition. Now it's not what you're thinking. Unless you're thinking that our appearance at the cheerleading event was the culmination of a long night of red wine at a Christmas party when going to a cheerleading competition sounded like a GREAT idea. If so, then it is EXACTLY what you're thinking.
But seriously, some of our very good friends have a daughter who is an excellent cheerleader and happened to mention to Chizz that they would be in our neck of the woods in January for said competition and Chizz said "Sure, we would LOVE to go" (remember the red wine!). Now, Jeanne, being the good friend she is and of course remembering the red wine, gave us, not 1, not 2 but 3 chances to gracefully exit. But Chizz and I not ever accused of being graceful and knowing that our kids would not be awake until after we came home from the event and actually, not so secretly, kind of intrigued by a cheerleading competition, decided to go anyway.
I was amazed at what a huge deal this is. We showed up at the very large high school where the competition was being held and every parking space was taken up. Chizz and I have gone to many different kids sporting events over the years and we found cheerleading is very similar to our experience with swim team. Parents spend all day waiting for their kids to do about one minute of some activity and then it is over. There were the obligatory food tents and tables, the different vendors selling "cheer wear", t-shirts, ribbons, uniforms, etc. Some of the teams were huge, you just saw masses of color, red, blue, gold, walking by. The girls all had almost the exact same hairstyle, pulled off the face, very tight and topped by an elaborate ribbon of the team colors. I saw no bangs, no short cuts, all the girls seemed to have long hair. We heard that some of the teams still do the elaborate curly ponytails and buns, like you see in the movies, but I don't think I saw more than 1 team that had that look. Most of the cheerleaders were wearing sweats before their routines, carrying backpacks or athletic bags with the accoutrement necessary for the days events.
We arrived pretty early so we got the chance to watch a few teams before K's team competed. It was really interesting, in a sociological way. For the most part the teams competed one right after another. There were quite a few teams, I think we saw somewhere in the neighborhood of 10-15 groups. Sometimes there were little gaps between the groups, were music was played. I spent a good deal of time watching the cheerleaders that were waiting. In between routines, they chit-chatted, touched up their makeup, texted, practiced looking bored and all of the other things teenagers do when they are bored or want to give the appearance of being bored. But the minute a competitor stepped on the mat, these girls were in rapt attention. Did this group execute a move as well as they do? Was their throw higher? Absorbing every movement the other groups made, evaluating, critiquing, mocking (after all they are teenage girls). K's group did very well. I didn't see one mistake, although they were quick to criticize themselves. K is the "flyer" of the group; she is basically, lifted, thrown and balanced places that humans don't normally go. Some of these routines are fairly complex and they don't always go to plan. We saw several injuries happen right on the floor when a girl landed the "wrong" way. A couple of competitors limped right off the floor. I read somewhere that cheerleading is the number 1 sport for injuries in high school. Seeing some of the difficult moves these kids do, it is a wonder that more of them aren't hurt. This is not all about the poms-poms and looking pretty. These girls (and boys) are very athletic. There is an element of grace about it as well, the routines often include some dancing. I noticed that when a squad does include a boy, he is usually crouching in the back during the dance part. It is like he is not expected to move in the same manner as the girls. I guess he is just there for his muscle!
So we left shortly after the awards ceremony, where there was lots of squealing and jumping up and down. And that was just Chizz. C'mon . . . . You knew I was going to do that! K's group got a ribbon and won a chance to go to Nationals in Florida. But they had already qualified before so it wasn't a huge surprise. I can't even imagine what a big deal that is, hundreds of teams, hundreds of parents wearing their "Cheer Mom" or "Cheer Dad" t-shirts, the anxiety level must be huge. I just hope that Jeanne doesn't ply Chizz with gallons of red wine at the Superbowl party or we will be Orlando bound! (I wonder if they have "Cheer Good Friends" tshirts?)
But seriously, some of our very good friends have a daughter who is an excellent cheerleader and happened to mention to Chizz that they would be in our neck of the woods in January for said competition and Chizz said "Sure, we would LOVE to go" (remember the red wine!). Now, Jeanne, being the good friend she is and of course remembering the red wine, gave us, not 1, not 2 but 3 chances to gracefully exit. But Chizz and I not ever accused of being graceful and knowing that our kids would not be awake until after we came home from the event and actually, not so secretly, kind of intrigued by a cheerleading competition, decided to go anyway.
I was amazed at what a huge deal this is. We showed up at the very large high school where the competition was being held and every parking space was taken up. Chizz and I have gone to many different kids sporting events over the years and we found cheerleading is very similar to our experience with swim team. Parents spend all day waiting for their kids to do about one minute of some activity and then it is over. There were the obligatory food tents and tables, the different vendors selling "cheer wear", t-shirts, ribbons, uniforms, etc. Some of the teams were huge, you just saw masses of color, red, blue, gold, walking by. The girls all had almost the exact same hairstyle, pulled off the face, very tight and topped by an elaborate ribbon of the team colors. I saw no bangs, no short cuts, all the girls seemed to have long hair. We heard that some of the teams still do the elaborate curly ponytails and buns, like you see in the movies, but I don't think I saw more than 1 team that had that look. Most of the cheerleaders were wearing sweats before their routines, carrying backpacks or athletic bags with the accoutrement necessary for the days events.
We arrived pretty early so we got the chance to watch a few teams before K's team competed. It was really interesting, in a sociological way. For the most part the teams competed one right after another. There were quite a few teams, I think we saw somewhere in the neighborhood of 10-15 groups. Sometimes there were little gaps between the groups, were music was played. I spent a good deal of time watching the cheerleaders that were waiting. In between routines, they chit-chatted, touched up their makeup, texted, practiced looking bored and all of the other things teenagers do when they are bored or want to give the appearance of being bored. But the minute a competitor stepped on the mat, these girls were in rapt attention. Did this group execute a move as well as they do? Was their throw higher? Absorbing every movement the other groups made, evaluating, critiquing, mocking (after all they are teenage girls). K's group did very well. I didn't see one mistake, although they were quick to criticize themselves. K is the "flyer" of the group; she is basically, lifted, thrown and balanced places that humans don't normally go. Some of these routines are fairly complex and they don't always go to plan. We saw several injuries happen right on the floor when a girl landed the "wrong" way. A couple of competitors limped right off the floor. I read somewhere that cheerleading is the number 1 sport for injuries in high school. Seeing some of the difficult moves these kids do, it is a wonder that more of them aren't hurt. This is not all about the poms-poms and looking pretty. These girls (and boys) are very athletic. There is an element of grace about it as well, the routines often include some dancing. I noticed that when a squad does include a boy, he is usually crouching in the back during the dance part. It is like he is not expected to move in the same manner as the girls. I guess he is just there for his muscle!
So we left shortly after the awards ceremony, where there was lots of squealing and jumping up and down. And that was just Chizz. C'mon . . . . You knew I was going to do that! K's group got a ribbon and won a chance to go to Nationals in Florida. But they had already qualified before so it wasn't a huge surprise. I can't even imagine what a big deal that is, hundreds of teams, hundreds of parents wearing their "Cheer Mom" or "Cheer Dad" t-shirts, the anxiety level must be huge. I just hope that Jeanne doesn't ply Chizz with gallons of red wine at the Superbowl party or we will be Orlando bound! (I wonder if they have "Cheer Good Friends" tshirts?)
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Snake Has Left the Building
Or more accurately, the driveway. Snake is, as we speak or you read, having his first driving lesson ever. For two hours, he will be navigating the streets of our town and those bergs close by. If you live near us you probably know which towns to avoid. If you don't know where we live and are unsure where to avoid, it might just be best to stay home for right now (and next Sunday between 9 - 11 a.m.).
Friday, January 02, 2009
Happy New Year! (I am tired already!)
I can't believe it is 2009. Where did it all go, the time I mean? 2009 is going to be a big year in our family. Kiki will graduate from high school, Chizz & I will celebrate 25 years of marriage (possibly) and I will have a momentous birthday. I am not going to say the number out loud or write it down but let's just say the number has a zero and another number that may or may not be a prime number somewhere in it. Yikes!!! My mother has old children!
Well, I am hoping that everyone's 2009 is a great year, regardless of whether you are old or not!
Hugs.
Well, I am hoping that everyone's 2009 is a great year, regardless of whether you are old or not!
Hugs.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)