Sunday, October 31, 2010
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Monday, October 25, 2010
Friday, October 22, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Fred scored some tickets to the NU Volleyball game last night (wherein we gave Texas Tech a healthy, corn-fed beating) and I tried to remember why I never played this sport I enjoyed beyond sixth grade. In seventh we switched from private school to public and ---
I don’t remember her name, but I can picture her plain as day: my seventh grade gym teacher. Always in a tee-shirt tucked into her high-waisted warm-up pants, she had short hair in tight curls (perm?) and she – SHE – made me forever hate participating in sports.
It all started during a friendly game of field hockey in which we were explicitly told to catch the ball before it went out of bounds so that the game wouldn’t get delayed. I was running after the ball when my fellow teammates yelled let it go! It’s out! while the teacher’s voice played in my head don’t let it go out! As it rolled out of bounds, I quickly retrieved it only to get yelled at in the most inappropriate way from across the field.
Girl in the PINK SHIRT!
Why did you let that go out?
I said not to let it go out!
Get the ball, PINK SHIRT!
And my drive was gone in a matter of seconds. I didn’t want to be called PINK SHIRT ever again so I just stayed out of the light, hanging back as far as I could to still get the passing mark but not have to be called out again. I often wonder two things: would I have felt different had she used my name (mine seemed to be the one she didn't know), and does she remember this incident?
I sealed my fate later that year while playing volleyball. I was desperately trying to avoid having to hit the ball.
Why didn’t you hit that?
Why weren’t you looking?
Not a quick check to see if I was okay and no acknowledgement that we were all sort of looking around wondering where the heck that ball went. (Has she ever tried to look up at an old gym ceiling, stare into the lights and find a volleyball?) I failed her again and she let me and the entire class know.
I never played – or wanted to play – team sports again after that.
And I wonder if she ever realized what an effect she had on one student.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Monday, October 11, 2010
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
The latest round of toy recalls has me in a fit of giggles.
I’m all about safety, but at what point have we taken it too far? At the rate we’re going, it’ll be required to send children outside in layers of sun block, protective clothing and head-to-toe bubble wrap all while in a 5-point safety harness of some kind, lest the wind should blow up again and potentially knock you over.
Anyone else climb out of the back of a station wagon after hopping the seat and run around all day barefoot* and in the sun while playing kick the can?
That’s how I learned to NOT step on bees. It’s how I learned to NOT leave your Cabbage Patch Doll out in the sun (hint: her head caves in). That’s also how I learned to NEVER play flashlight tag in a backyard you’re unfamiliar with (I may or may not have run into someone’s clothesline)(with my right eye)(and failed at pretending it didn’t happen). And why you should ALWAYS wear shoes while riding a bike.
We lived and we learned.
If you didn’t get hurt – you weren’t playing hard enough.
But now... the sun could burn them. Dirt is for nothing more than carrying germs and gross-ness. They rarely leave the house without shoes. That wood hammer could crush their skull. That hinge could close and pinch their wee finger. If they gnawed all of the printing off of 483 blocks, they could possibly maybe get a teensy bit of lead in their system!
My brothers made a skateboard ramp from plywood and 2x4s and it kicked ass. It also kicked our asses numerous times but that didn’t stop me from riding my bike over it. We had guns that were made for the sole purpose of shooting rubber bands.
Rubber bands! My sister got shot in the eye with one** and before that I was persuaded to shove one up my nose.** Oh the horror. I fell out of a tree** and knocked the wind out of myself. My mom was yelled for and responded with “pick yourself up, Anna, you’re fine.”
But she was tough. My mom is from the “walked both ways uphill in the snow with one boot and a dress on” generation and has a gnarly scar on her knee from playing on a heavy duty piece of farm equipment with about 387 circular, and sharp, blades on it. No doctor visit, no stitches, just a “you’ll be fine” and she was sent on her way.
And guess what... she IS fine.
And all four of her children are fine.
And when Elliot falls?
Oh don't listen to him, he's JUST FINE.
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*If I was wearing shoes, it was to show off my new clear, glitter jellies.
**All the more reasons to not provide a sibling for Elliot.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Friday, October 1, 2010
I recently embarked on the task of all tasks - I cleaned out my Google Reader. It was a somewhat painful task as I had accumulated 243 blogs that were demanding my attention on a pretty regular basis. More and more I found myself marking specific blogs as "read" more than any other so I jotted down what I didn't like.
And then the fun began.
I printed out a list of the blogs and then, taking a total of 8 seconds, I deleted EVERY SINGLE SUBSCRIPTION out of my Google Reader. Yep, every last one of them.
Yep, even you. Sorry - nothing personal.
Friends and family were absolutely added back in, no questions asked. (Yes, even those of you that haven't posted since some time in early 2009.) Then I applied my rules and added back 102 subscriptions ... these folks didn't make the cut:
- You have cats as the focus of nearly every picture – and not the funny i can has cheeseburger cats.
- I have to click through to your blog to read the post.
- You blather on about the exact same thing every single day.
- Sewing blog specific: your fabric choices suck. Regularly.
- You are annoying and talk about how much you love your "hubsie" every day. No one loves their "hubsie" every day. NO ONE. IT'S NOT HEALTHY.
- Product placement is obvious in movies but even more so when a usual mommy-blogger starts ranting on (DAILY!) about what great product she just got! And oh! look! it's free if I just review it right here on my blog! and force you to read it! and pretend to care! Isn't that fabulous?