It's a very cold Sunday morning in the northeast and two kids and a dog are tucked snugly into bed. I have not heard any movement from their rooms in hours. It's amazing how much they can sleep. I know that eating, sitting around, watching television, and playing video games can be exhausting, so I will let them sleep a little longer.
Although, "it" came sooner than the last time. "It" is our first minor disagreement which was launched around 10 pm last night. As the temperature dropped during the evening, a light dusting of snow began to fall. From a BP mom's perspective, there could have been snow or black ice on the road. Therefore, I texted the big kid to leave his party and return home around 9:30 pm before the roads began to ice. Nothing wrong with this type of critical thinking, right? Icy roads + an inexperienced driver = accident....it's an equation that I developed over the years of pondering this phenomenon. Therefore, I sent out the "Lassie, come home..." signal which was immediately returned with a "WHAT?" "NOW?!" Yes, sweetie...now....leave the party, put the key into the ignition of my car and drive home with my gas to my home where you live during the off season for free.
As he entered the door, I was greeted with a few sentences that I cannot really remember but the implication was that he was too old to be summoned home on a Saturday evening. Perhaps, yes, perhaps he is too old (in his youthful mind), however, as long as he has the privilege of driving the car with my gas and living here with me worrying about him, he is not too old. Dad had a friend whose daughter was home for the Christmas holidays. She slept over at a friend's house, drove home, and hit black ice. We buried her three days later. I never forgot this event and never will. If I have to go through a few angry words to keep a few kids safe and alive, then so be it.
Remember, Santa is watching all activities and keeping a list of who is naughty and nice.
Have a great day!
Showing posts with label baseball; high school and college baseball ;college pitchers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label baseball; high school and college baseball ;college pitchers. Show all posts
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Memories of the Lucky Pumas
Good morning! The sun is back after missing for a few days in the northeast. I don't mind the rain, but it sure does get damp around here. Could we have the rain without getting wet? No? OK...moving on....
Now that the major is settled upon...and this may change over the years...although I am pretty sure that a liberal arts major means no more calculus and sciences. Therefore, I think that he is safe and will not change his mind. Remember, that will require a great deal of more thought.
He is now having a great deal of fun in the apartment with Angel and Big Red. They decided that they would create rap songs in order to battle LW's gig of waking them up at 2 am to rap to them. Buddy and Angel wanted to call themselves "DJ Gepetto and the Puppets" which I loved but they settled on another name that is more rap-like. Buddy creates the beats and Angel is working on the lyrics. Some of the beats sound like moo-ing rather than a drum. This may be something that they add to their resumes as they are searching for their post college jobs....under the category of job experience....next to gathering golf balls at the club, Buddy can add "bad white rapper" to entice business owners to hire him and pay a boatload of money just to entertain them. Who wouldn't want this guy on their staff? Just the entertainment value alone is justification for hiring him. Look at what he will bring to the organization.....
OK, so I am rambling on and on about rapping rather than focusing on looking for new lucky sneakers and making plane reservations for the Florida tournament. Why do I need new lucky sneakers? You ask this question? Didn't you read the Ohio-days? The luck is gone...now the lucky sneakers are just sneakers....shoes...foot coverings....It's time to begin the search....
Where did the lucky sneakers get their start? If you are new to this blog, the lucky sneakers began in college as I played tennis in my Pumas. The sneakers carried me through classes (and I often needed a great deal of luck to get through them)...then out to the tennis court. The sneakers stayed with me for years even through the Grand Canyon. Actually, that is a story of its own....Having caught up on my work, I will share it with you.
Dad, Big Sis and Big M and I went to the grand Canyon together and had a blast. Big Sis posted a photo on FB two weeks ago with our group going into the GC. I looked at my feet and I was wearing the lucky sneakers.
Now I don't want to start a panic and this blog should be educational, so let me share this one solid piece of advice with you...never, and I mean never, walk down the Grand Canyon to the Colorado River without a large gallon container of water. Our group started the day with pancakes and orange juice and walked down the side of the canyon with two granola bars and one bottle of water. I saw people walk up the canyon past us as we were walking down and they were carrying gallon containers. Then the mules would pass us on the trail and I noticed that the riders also had lots of water. We didn't need that much. it would slow us down...or would it?
As fate would have it, going down was a lot easier than going up. Once we got to even ground at the base of the canyon, we realized that we needed water. Guess what? There are no 7-11's or convenience stores in the canyon (note to self....perhaps this is a money making venture for the future). We began to slow down and decided that even though we were parched, we would try to make it to the Colorado River....the going was getting tougher and tougher as we were dehydrated. We stopped a number of times and I sort of wanted to turn around. Then I heard it....yes, the helicopters lifting dehydrated, dying hikers out of the canyon...but there was more than the sound of the whirling blades overhead....it sounded like...yes, I think that this is true...rattling....not seeing any babies, I knew that I was in very deep doo-doo as I began to run zig zag in the canyon in my oh-so lucky sneakers...my friends ran after me not knowing why...all I could shout was "RUN!!!!" I know that we were not going to out run rattle snakes, but I was going to go down trying...my lucky sneakers helped me to make it to the Colorado without a snake bite and Big Sis having to suck the venom out of my leg so that I would not die on the edge of the canyon.
once we got to the river, we looked down and said: "Hmmm, there's the river...nice...let's go." And we turned around, walked around the snake filled canyon floor, and got to the bottom of the incline. Now we were really dehydrated and my heart started to race keeping the blood pressure up. We must have dropped 5 pounds in fluid. So, the climb was un-bee-lee-vable! There were two fountains along the way, so we stopped to drink as much as we could. Big Sis had two film canisters in her pocket. We took the film out and filled them with 5 drops of water that we rationed. There was a point where I asked them to flag down a chopper...I was not proud. My desire for survival was far greater than the embarrassment of being saved by the helicopter crew. At one point, Big Sis threw the last few drops of water on my face to keep me going. Was it the water droplets or the lucky sneakers? You decide.
As we climbed out of the canyon, we all saw it at the same time....broken down and dirty, it was the most beautiful bar I have ever seen in my life. We crawled to a table, sat down, and the waitress walked over to us. Here is how it went....
Big M: "I'll have 3 beers, two cokes, and a glass of water."
Big Sis:" I'll have 4 cokes."
Dad: "I'll have 5 cokes and a water."
Me: "I'll have a coke, a sprite, a water, and a Perrier...." We sat at the bar and drank until we could no longer drink. it was a beautiful moment. I never knew that a coke could taste so good, refreshing, life saving....what a moment....
And so, friends, the lucky sneakers were born...they were dirty, torn, stinky, and very very lucky. What happened to those Pumas? Well, I still have them in a box in a safe place. These sneakers hold a special place in my heart as does all of the adventures and times that I had while wearing them....hope that you have something special like ratty, old sneakers that can make you smile....have a nice day!
Now that the major is settled upon...and this may change over the years...although I am pretty sure that a liberal arts major means no more calculus and sciences. Therefore, I think that he is safe and will not change his mind. Remember, that will require a great deal of more thought.
He is now having a great deal of fun in the apartment with Angel and Big Red. They decided that they would create rap songs in order to battle LW's gig of waking them up at 2 am to rap to them. Buddy and Angel wanted to call themselves "DJ Gepetto and the Puppets" which I loved but they settled on another name that is more rap-like. Buddy creates the beats and Angel is working on the lyrics. Some of the beats sound like moo-ing rather than a drum. This may be something that they add to their resumes as they are searching for their post college jobs....under the category of job experience....next to gathering golf balls at the club, Buddy can add "bad white rapper" to entice business owners to hire him and pay a boatload of money just to entertain them. Who wouldn't want this guy on their staff? Just the entertainment value alone is justification for hiring him. Look at what he will bring to the organization.....
OK, so I am rambling on and on about rapping rather than focusing on looking for new lucky sneakers and making plane reservations for the Florida tournament. Why do I need new lucky sneakers? You ask this question? Didn't you read the Ohio-days? The luck is gone...now the lucky sneakers are just sneakers....shoes...foot coverings....It's time to begin the search....
Where did the lucky sneakers get their start? If you are new to this blog, the lucky sneakers began in college as I played tennis in my Pumas. The sneakers carried me through classes (and I often needed a great deal of luck to get through them)...then out to the tennis court. The sneakers stayed with me for years even through the Grand Canyon. Actually, that is a story of its own....Having caught up on my work, I will share it with you.
Dad, Big Sis and Big M and I went to the grand Canyon together and had a blast. Big Sis posted a photo on FB two weeks ago with our group going into the GC. I looked at my feet and I was wearing the lucky sneakers.
Now I don't want to start a panic and this blog should be educational, so let me share this one solid piece of advice with you...never, and I mean never, walk down the Grand Canyon to the Colorado River without a large gallon container of water. Our group started the day with pancakes and orange juice and walked down the side of the canyon with two granola bars and one bottle of water. I saw people walk up the canyon past us as we were walking down and they were carrying gallon containers. Then the mules would pass us on the trail and I noticed that the riders also had lots of water. We didn't need that much. it would slow us down...or would it?
As fate would have it, going down was a lot easier than going up. Once we got to even ground at the base of the canyon, we realized that we needed water. Guess what? There are no 7-11's or convenience stores in the canyon (note to self....perhaps this is a money making venture for the future). We began to slow down and decided that even though we were parched, we would try to make it to the Colorado River....the going was getting tougher and tougher as we were dehydrated. We stopped a number of times and I sort of wanted to turn around. Then I heard it....yes, the helicopters lifting dehydrated, dying hikers out of the canyon...but there was more than the sound of the whirling blades overhead....it sounded like...yes, I think that this is true...rattling....not seeing any babies, I knew that I was in very deep doo-doo as I began to run zig zag in the canyon in my oh-so lucky sneakers...my friends ran after me not knowing why...all I could shout was "RUN!!!!" I know that we were not going to out run rattle snakes, but I was going to go down trying...my lucky sneakers helped me to make it to the Colorado without a snake bite and Big Sis having to suck the venom out of my leg so that I would not die on the edge of the canyon.
once we got to the river, we looked down and said: "Hmmm, there's the river...nice...let's go." And we turned around, walked around the snake filled canyon floor, and got to the bottom of the incline. Now we were really dehydrated and my heart started to race keeping the blood pressure up. We must have dropped 5 pounds in fluid. So, the climb was un-bee-lee-vable! There were two fountains along the way, so we stopped to drink as much as we could. Big Sis had two film canisters in her pocket. We took the film out and filled them with 5 drops of water that we rationed. There was a point where I asked them to flag down a chopper...I was not proud. My desire for survival was far greater than the embarrassment of being saved by the helicopter crew. At one point, Big Sis threw the last few drops of water on my face to keep me going. Was it the water droplets or the lucky sneakers? You decide.
As we climbed out of the canyon, we all saw it at the same time....broken down and dirty, it was the most beautiful bar I have ever seen in my life. We crawled to a table, sat down, and the waitress walked over to us. Here is how it went....
Big M: "I'll have 3 beers, two cokes, and a glass of water."
Big Sis:" I'll have 4 cokes."
Dad: "I'll have 5 cokes and a water."
Me: "I'll have a coke, a sprite, a water, and a Perrier...." We sat at the bar and drank until we could no longer drink. it was a beautiful moment. I never knew that a coke could taste so good, refreshing, life saving....what a moment....
And so, friends, the lucky sneakers were born...they were dirty, torn, stinky, and very very lucky. What happened to those Pumas? Well, I still have them in a box in a safe place. These sneakers hold a special place in my heart as does all of the adventures and times that I had while wearing them....hope that you have something special like ratty, old sneakers that can make you smile....have a nice day!
Monday, June 6, 2011
New experiences...new people...a whole new world
Good day! It's Monday and I am in my new office in the lobby of our hotel. Buddy is asleep on the sofa bed in the room, so I have left the room to work. Yesterday's breakfast guests in the lobby were the little league kids. Today, we have a family in town for a funeral. I don't have all the details yet, but my radar is on and apparently the man in the crisp white shirt and nice tie is giving the eulogy that he has yet to write. He is sitting at the computer next to me typing it as I am writing...the pressure is on. His family is waiting for him so they can leave for the funeral, yet he will not budge until the speech is written. His son looks bored. His brother is standing by the curb. The wife is not worried, she is sitting at a table drinking coffee....the man is typing furiously....more later. I won't leave my post until I have all of the details for you.
OK, it is day 2 for me in O-hi-O. I am beginning to get a feel for it. It seems that part of the community is 'small town'. Everyone knows each other. They are polite, kind, and good citizens. The other part is a bit more alarming. Yesterday I witnessed a major fight in Wal mart with a boyfriend and girlfriend screaming expletives at one another. I was paralyzed watching it. The rest of the shoppers went on with their shopping. (UPDATE: man delivering eulogy just printed speech and is headed for the door. It took him 6 minutes to think about it and write it....note....whoever delivers my eulogy, please spend less time on it and more time drinking coffee and spending time with family).
So, where was I? Right...Wal mart....I was minding my own business buying shampoo and granola bars for my kid when a fight erupts by the cashiers. No one looked up. Frankly, it is not my nature to ignore a fight in a discount super store run by the billionaire Walton family. The guy with the mohawk and multiple tattoos was screaming at the girl with the tats on her legs. She screamed back with an equal number of curses. He was louder but somehow she was the one who was going to win this brawl. As they moved toward the door I lost sight and sound. My cashier with the big rose tattoo on her forearm never looked up and continued to process my order. I was finished and the fight moved on.
I then headed for the ball park to watch the game. If you follow my blog, you know that Buddy is a pitcher and does not play everyday. It is a situation that I have had to adjust to since for the past several years, he was in each game playing first base and pitching in the rotation. I knew that he was off last night, so I was in no hurry to get there. I arrived at the bottom of the first inning. It was a beautiful night and I sat in the bleachers by myself with my own thoughts...no camera, just a water, hot dog and cell phone in my hands....day dreaming and watching the fans and players.
His team is comprised of various D-1 players from the east and midwest regions. He does not know anyone yet. Yesterday, he was a bit salty and claimed that he did not want to know any of them because they have nothing in common besides baseball (isn't that why they are here?). Further, they were not up to his 'intellectual level' (my words paraphrased, not his). The coach showed him how to get water for each game since he is now the pre game water boy and suggested that he write the instructions down so that he would not forget them. OK...my son is not a nuclear physicist, but he can remember the water routine (I think).
As the game progresses, I am intently watching it and texting Buddy and Tink. Yes, this league is a bit more relaxed and he has his cell phone in the bullpen. There are multiple characters that intrigued me. For example, there is a man with tattoos on each extremity and long salt and pepper hair pulled back in a ponytail. He has the team shirt and hat on. This gentleman in his 40's, I will call Gumby, because he does not have any teeth. Like Buddy, he has a job. He runs and collects the foul balls for the team. Although he does this at every game, I do not believe that he is paid. He can get into the park for free and have all of the Pepsi-Ones that he can drink.
There is another man who watches the games. His son plays the infield. According to dad (who was here for the first few days and made a number of friends), his wife gets upset when Junior is in a batting slump. Per this man, whom I am going to call 'Libido', he "doesn't get any action when Junior does not hit 'cause it upsets the little woman....'" After observing Libido in action, the little missus may be using Junior as her 'headache'. Last night Junior was 0-3 until the 8th inning when he ripped a single down the first base line. Libido was one happy guy as he cheered Junior and smiled at his wife.
There are so many more characters and new friends to write about and I will reveal them over the summer. Yesterday I was able to schedule the electricity and cable for the apartment. We move in on Saturday, then Buddy leaves for Kentucky for a game. Interestingly, we are sharing one car. I haven't shared a car since I co-owned an orange Volkswagen dasher with a big black racing stripe with my brothers in college. I did not like it then...I like it less now. But, that's the way it goes....it's time for me to go back to work...have a great day....
OK, it is day 2 for me in O-hi-O. I am beginning to get a feel for it. It seems that part of the community is 'small town'. Everyone knows each other. They are polite, kind, and good citizens. The other part is a bit more alarming. Yesterday I witnessed a major fight in Wal mart with a boyfriend and girlfriend screaming expletives at one another. I was paralyzed watching it. The rest of the shoppers went on with their shopping. (UPDATE: man delivering eulogy just printed speech and is headed for the door. It took him 6 minutes to think about it and write it....note....whoever delivers my eulogy, please spend less time on it and more time drinking coffee and spending time with family).
So, where was I? Right...Wal mart....I was minding my own business buying shampoo and granola bars for my kid when a fight erupts by the cashiers. No one looked up. Frankly, it is not my nature to ignore a fight in a discount super store run by the billionaire Walton family. The guy with the mohawk and multiple tattoos was screaming at the girl with the tats on her legs. She screamed back with an equal number of curses. He was louder but somehow she was the one who was going to win this brawl. As they moved toward the door I lost sight and sound. My cashier with the big rose tattoo on her forearm never looked up and continued to process my order. I was finished and the fight moved on.
I then headed for the ball park to watch the game. If you follow my blog, you know that Buddy is a pitcher and does not play everyday. It is a situation that I have had to adjust to since for the past several years, he was in each game playing first base and pitching in the rotation. I knew that he was off last night, so I was in no hurry to get there. I arrived at the bottom of the first inning. It was a beautiful night and I sat in the bleachers by myself with my own thoughts...no camera, just a water, hot dog and cell phone in my hands....day dreaming and watching the fans and players.
His team is comprised of various D-1 players from the east and midwest regions. He does not know anyone yet. Yesterday, he was a bit salty and claimed that he did not want to know any of them because they have nothing in common besides baseball (isn't that why they are here?). Further, they were not up to his 'intellectual level' (my words paraphrased, not his). The coach showed him how to get water for each game since he is now the pre game water boy and suggested that he write the instructions down so that he would not forget them. OK...my son is not a nuclear physicist, but he can remember the water routine (I think).
As the game progresses, I am intently watching it and texting Buddy and Tink. Yes, this league is a bit more relaxed and he has his cell phone in the bullpen. There are multiple characters that intrigued me. For example, there is a man with tattoos on each extremity and long salt and pepper hair pulled back in a ponytail. He has the team shirt and hat on. This gentleman in his 40's, I will call Gumby, because he does not have any teeth. Like Buddy, he has a job. He runs and collects the foul balls for the team. Although he does this at every game, I do not believe that he is paid. He can get into the park for free and have all of the Pepsi-Ones that he can drink.
There is another man who watches the games. His son plays the infield. According to dad (who was here for the first few days and made a number of friends), his wife gets upset when Junior is in a batting slump. Per this man, whom I am going to call 'Libido', he "doesn't get any action when Junior does not hit 'cause it upsets the little woman....'" After observing Libido in action, the little missus may be using Junior as her 'headache'. Last night Junior was 0-3 until the 8th inning when he ripped a single down the first base line. Libido was one happy guy as he cheered Junior and smiled at his wife.
There are so many more characters and new friends to write about and I will reveal them over the summer. Yesterday I was able to schedule the electricity and cable for the apartment. We move in on Saturday, then Buddy leaves for Kentucky for a game. Interestingly, we are sharing one car. I haven't shared a car since I co-owned an orange Volkswagen dasher with a big black racing stripe with my brothers in college. I did not like it then...I like it less now. But, that's the way it goes....it's time for me to go back to work...have a great day....
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