This is a story about soccer. First off, I am NOT a soccer mom. I just happen to have a kid that
plays soccer (ok, well, plays might be too strong a term) is on a soccer team. Now, I never really liked soccer, if only because I grew up a white kid in the rural Midwest in the 80s. We played baseball and softball. In the middle of the day, the middle of the summer, all summer long. Flashback to 1984: we play a game or two of soccer in PE, and that’s the extent of my soccer playing career. Flashback to 1996: the US women’s soccer team takes the Olympic gold medal. A huge day in woman’s sports! These women really made an impression on millions of young (and old) girls and totally strengthened the visibility and viability of female sports in this country. Flashback to 2002: I watch Bend It Like Beckham. Hey! Soccer looks kinda cool. Present day: soccer is everywhere. Our formerly soccerless community kinda likes soccer around here. We have our own county league, and the high school has a soccer team! Girls and boys compete on the same teams. Girls kicking boys’ asses! Seriously, if this had been available when I was a kid, you better believe I would have been all over kicking boys’ asses!
In our county league, a kid can play soccer at the tender age of 3…and therein lies the problem. Three-year-olds are not, in general, very interested in, or very good at, competitive sports. Neither is my 4-year-old. You see, I am what you might call old school when it comes to sports. Winners are winners and losers are losers. You don’t get a trophy for last place. You play to win. You don’t stand around, twirl your hair, and look at the ground. You don’t play a sport UNLESS YOU WANT TO. I cannot bear to watch my kid stand around, twirl her hair, and look at the ground. What have I done? Three is too young. Four is too young. Five? Probably too young. So, chalk this one up to lesson learned. Next year, we’re playing T-ball!!
To hell with diamonds. Spring flowers are a girl’s best friend.
A tisket, a tasket: it's just a meaningless nursery rhyme.
Just got back from a family mini-vacation (a stay-cation, if you will), in Memphis. We took the munchkin to the zoo and downtown to Beale Street. It was St. Patrick’s Day, ok? There was a parade. Let me just say that we will be going there again. Oh yes! But probably not to the zoo. I’m gonna have to say that the St. Louis Zoo is better (and it’s free). Words of wisdom: if you do go to the Memphis Zoo, go as early as humanly possible. This means WHEN IT OPENS. Which, of course, we did. But when we left, like just after noon, the lines were long and full of more sniveling kids than you could possibly bear just for a bear, if you know what I mean. Come to think of it I hate zoos, and am reminded of it every time I go to one…
In the mind of a 4-year-old, the top 3 for the trip was, in this order :1. the parade, of course; 2. the elevator in the hotel (duh); and lastly, 3. why, the zoo (what zoo?). I kinda liked the liquor store over by the zoo (Joe’s). Very cool with lots of plants in there and, uh, liquor…
Here is where I should bring the hotel into this. I may actually write a review of this hotel on Trip Advisor or something. The Doubletree Downtown Memphis Hotel was absolutely awesome. The nicest staff ever plus we ended up with an oversize room for being a rewards card member (ooh! exclusive, right?). There’s my plug. Seriously. Lastly, what’s not to like about Beale Street? And a St. Patrick’s Day parade on Beale Street in sunny 75 degree weather?
My favorite part.
Why are they all standing on one foot? Good question.
The bears are laying in a large sandbox. Slowly dying…
The eagle has landed.
I did have one (or four). Not recommending the food coloring though.
It’s Wonder Woman. My hero.
Oops! Sorry, I dropped my change.
Now, if I was only 25 again…sigh.
This is my brain on Saturdays.
I have become comfortably numb.
Who wants an all-blue Super Bowl? Not me. I don’t even want to watch the damn thing. I do, however, look forward to the food. I’m making St. Louis-style pizza (Think Imo’s for those of you who don’t know what St. Louis-style is, although if you don’t know what St. Louis-style is then you probably don’t know what the hell Imo’s is. Uh, never mind).
Our Superbowl halftime entertainment: who needs Madonna. (Click the link; I’m not ready to invest in the $60 WordPress video player yet.)
It’s not a sports thing. I’m jaded on many levels. In fact I will post about it at some point. In the meantime, go blue.
This scares the shit out of me. Yeah, that’s chocolate on her cheek just in case you were wondering.
Ariel, the Little Zombie
Got home, drank beer, ate supper, watched Looney Tunes. Now what? Read? Write? Instagram? Go to bed?
It's a never ending assault on my intelligence.
Drawing a blank today. It kinda seems like if you have nothing to say, then why say anything at all?
Nevertheless, in support of always saying something, and of said something being completely off subject (of which there never was one to begin with haha), I did just clean up two spilled waters in the course of about a half an hour. At least this isn’t a juice household. I hate juice. Ninety-nine percent of the time it’s just sugar water (don’t quote me on that; there are a shitload of great food blogs that can give you the goods). Why does everyone feed their kids sugar water and then feel good about it? How bizarre. How about some good, old fashioned fruit instead? Juice just really pisses me off! Really. Fuck you, juice.
And yes, I AM the food police. You just wait. I’ve not even begun yet.
I am the eye in the sky, looking at you. I can read your mind.
Since previous attempts at a daily blog post have been utter failures, I’ve decided to try again. Am I setting up myself for blog-defeat? Probably, given the fact that I was supposed to start again yesterday when the rest of the world began their own 365 projects. Well, let me just say that this is no 365 project. It’s just one post every day, ok? So I start with yesterday’s post. Since nothing happened yesterday, I’m just posting a photo that I actually took yesterday, featuring my favorite kid and my favorite hand-held device.
Oh yeah, and I’ve decided to delete all the photos on my Canon. This is a big step for me and shows me that I’m definitely dedicated to cleaning up my act. So, after this post, all 8.8 GB worth, or howevermany thousand that is, will be (poof!) gone (well, not really gone; of course they’re backed up, what do you think I am anyway?). I’ve taken over 6,850 shots with this camera since I bought it three years ago. Add that to the aforementioned hand-held device then I’ve probably taken more photos than my parents have their entire lives. Uh huh, some food for thought. But! But, just having them all there so, uh, easy to scroll through right there in my hand. Never mind the fact that it’s nearly impossible to get past the first thousand or the last thousand in a respectable amount of time. All the cool multi-frame action shots! The kid jumping in leaves! The cats running across the porch! How will I see them now? Sigh… I’m doing it so don’t even try to talk me out of it.
Well, until later, when I am forced by My. Own. Free. Will. to post my real post for today. It will be much shorter. I promise.
Her first haircut. Waaaay overdue.
You know, kids can be real pains in the asses. So, in an attempt to alleviate some of our daily discord I decided to start at the top. Cut this shit off. Bam!