Saturday, October 31, 2015

Running and Kicking and....Resting!

The big story this week for Team WestEnders centered around at least some of the Fall sports wrapping up for the season.

The Chapel Hill High School JV soccer squad suffered a bit of a disappointing end to their campaign, thanks to the vagaries of Autumn weather. Their final game was supposed to be Wednesday, a hotly-contested rematch against a local rival, but due to a couple of days of persistent downpours, it was unceremoniously canceled. This late in the year, with playoffs poised to begin, there was no time for a make-up, so they opted just to have a couple more "fun practices" until Friday, then let that be the end of it. However, the rainout doesn't affect the fact that the team finished their schedule with an impressive record of 15-1-1. Even more astonishing, though, is the goal differential they racked up: they scored 64, while allowing...8. Now they can relax and cheer on the Varsity boys, who are headed back to the playoffs. Go, Tigers!

Of course, Derek actually has only a few weeks off until his club team will begin practicing...and the whole hamster wheel of shuttling him all over the place 2 or 3 evenings a week commences yet again. (Siiiigh...) But apparently, that's too long of a break for the crazy teenager, who said at dinner the other night, "Jeez, I don't want to go a month without playing soccer!" So Husband suggested that he come practice with the adult group that he himself plays with in the recreational league. Sounds like a terrific solution, right? Yeeeeeah....except that Husband recently came home after a workout session with painfully bruised ribs, presumably from some....over-enthusiastic opponent? Maybe Derek is young enough to, I don't know...outrun anyone who tries to elbow him? Here's hoping...

Meanwhile, Riley still has several weeks (and one tournament) to kick it around with his soccer buddies. But the Middle School cross-country season concluded today, with the County Meet, featuring his own team and the other 6 schools they ran against during the regular season. The way it works is: the top 7 runners from each school compete in separate Boys' and Girls' Championship Races. Well, guess where Riley ended up in the standings this year? Dah dah dah dah...8th. (Ooh, soooo close...)

But no worries, that just meant he ran in the Open Competition instead. Now, his coach (who is fabulous and we adore her) had kind of built up some...expectations...before the meet....by telling him he had a chance to win the darn thing. Gulp. I cringed when I heard that, because I couldn't stand the thought of him being crushed if he didn't have a great race for any reason. (Naturally, I seemed to be the only one concerned. He's my baaaaby, what can I say?)

Aaaannnnd....he ended up coming in 13th, overall. But it turned out that the more important thing to note was that he was the first runner from his school to cross the Finish Line. And he just so happened to PR by 5 seconds as well, which pleased him immensely. It took me a while to process it, but what that means is, remember those 7 fastest teammates? They're all 8th graders, moving on to join (and strengthen, no doubt!) the high school crew next year. So Riley just might be poised to lead his little pack of 7th graders into the front of the line. Like I told him afterwards, "You've gotta have goals, right?"

So, that's the last major update for the Fall Sports Report. Now...is it time for the highly-anticipated, well-deserved Lounge on the Sofa with the DVR and Hot Chocolate Season? Yessssss!!!!!

Wednesday, October 28, 2015

Jeez, my "public" is getting so....difficult!

I got the strangest call yesterday. Well, let's start with the fact that it was odd for my phone to be ringing at all, since it rarely does that. When it happens, I either tend to ignore it completely, glance at the screen to see if I recognize the number...or sometimes, when taken off guard, just stare at it in bewilderment, wondering for what earthly reason it could possibly be buzzing at me.

In this case, I was leaving Whole Foods, after strolling over at lunchtime with a co-worker. A cursory peek revealed the face of a very well-known contact from my address book: my older son...presumably safely tucked away at school...studying hard, and learning...and...whatnot (evidently heavy on the latter, as we'll soon see). So of course I answered it, wondering why the heck he was trying to get in touch with me in the middle of the day. "Yeeeeees, Derek?" His chipper voice came clearly through the device, "Oh, hey, Mom...what's the name of your blog?"

What the WHAT? Okay, first things first, of course: "What are you supposed to be doing right now?" I sternly inquired. "We're at lunch," he blithely assured me. Having established that he was goofing off in his free time, and therefore not going to be incurring any detention-like consequences from this behavior, I continued with the next pertinent matter, "Why, exactly, are you talking about my blog?" He explained, "I mentioned that you had one, and one of my friends really wants to read it." "Um...suuurrrre...I guess," I thought to myself hesitantly. After all, what harm could come of it, if 15-year olds browse through some of our family stories? I mean, I generally try to keep it pretty G-rated, and I promised the kids I wouldn't write about anything TOO embarrassing...so it should be totally fine...theoretically...right?

I went through this process rapidly in my head before coming to a conclusion, something along the lines of "Eh, why not?" Later that afternoon when Derek returned from his brush with academia, he reported that my writing had proven to be a huge hit with his crowd. The friend who had originally expressed such curiosity had pulled the URL up on his phone and commenced to read parts of it out loud to the group, much to everyone's amusement. According to my child, the conversation went kind of like this: "Hey, did you know you had a problem with your water heater last week?" To which Derek replied, in bemusement, "Uh...yeah, man...I was there, ya know?" This was followed by, "Awww...your mom didn't get to see your soccer game because of her new job. Were you sad?"

Apparently this went on for the Entire. Lunch. Period. Furthermore, Derek informed me that when they convene for their usual Friday night...Hours of Goofiness (you know, like Happy Hour, but for adolescents...complete with snacks, and Gatorade, and video games)....they plan to record themselves interviewing each other, using questions formulated from the content of my little stream-of-consciousness ramblings. Oh, good grief--that in itself should be a hoot. But what's cracking me up even more right now is that tomorrow, if they decide to check for new material, they'll read what I wrote...about them...reading what I wrote. Oh, nooooo, is this going to mess with fabric of the space/time continuum in any way? Even worse, I certainly hope I don't cause any high schoolers' heads to explode before 5th period! Go back to class, you crazy kids! Trust me, it's for your own good...

[Epilogue: I banged this out last night, then set it aside to re-read, edit and post today. When I was catching up on the events of the day with Derek this afternoon, he announced that his buddies had made it known that they had certain...demands...that they wished him to relay to me. (What are they....kidnappers? They've been watching too many crime shows, I tell ya...) One of these was "that I publish a new post...by Friday". Oh, reeeeaaallly? Pretty bold words, for a fearsome gang of...10th graders. Well, not that I believe in negotiating with juvenile delinquents (Just kidding! You're delightful young men, the lot of you!)....but nevertheless...here you go!

Sunday, October 25, 2015

Some things are best left to the professionals...

So, Week One of the New World Order (well...make that "in Johna-land", anyway...) whizzed by in a blurry haze of "wait, what day is it?"...with a healthy dose of "where am I supposed to be?" tossed in...as well as a sprinkling of  "is it my job to pick up/drop off fill-in-child's-name-here?". Or, you know, as we like to call it "The Usual Routine"...but with a slight boost to the intangible...Chaos Factor.

It started with my first day at the new job, on Monday. I showed up, met or was re-introduced to a few of my delightful co-workers, then did some scheduled training for a few hours with IT, HR...and some other pertinent letter-people. Along the way, I got to have some nerdy fun setting up my automated voicemail, and thus automatically establishing me in the handy-dandy "dial-by-name directory" so I can be reached even if you don't know my extension. (Yes, I'm easily amused...I already admitted that, right?)

I also learned how to use the software on my computer to set up or participate in a web-conference (similar in principle to Skype, which we also have, but I haven't played with just yet). Now, I know some people don't like video-chatting, but--as phone-averse as I am--I personally appreciate being able to see the person I'm conversing with...to me, it makes the whole situation more like a real interaction, without having to try to be animated with a disembodied voice on the other end of an electronic wire. All-in-all, it was a productive, enjoyable beginning.

The only glitch is that, with the 2 full days at the office, and the additional long-distance interpreting gig continuing on Tuesday/Thursday, I didn't make it to any of the kid activities after school. Fortunately, both of Derek's soccer games and Riley's cross-country meet reportedly went well...but it felt very weird not to have  watched any of the action in person. Suffice it to say, I was greatly looking forward to my Friday, when I could catch my breath and catch up on...you know...stuff.

Aaannnd, wouldn't you know it, Thursday evening a crisis...of sorts....struck Casa WestEnders. You see, at the end of August, our tankless water heater started acting up. Specifically, it seemed to be producing hot agua according to some random schedule, known only to its mechanical brain, regardless of when the household inhabitants actually wanted it. We had a plumber out to service it, mostly a standard cleaning/de-scaling procedure that's recommended annually to ensure consistent performance.

That seemed to fix the issue...until a couple of weeks ago when the kitchen sink suddenly declined to provide anything but a cold stream when washing dishes. Eh, this is ignorable for the time being, yeah? I mean, we still have warm weather right now, so who really cares if your hands are immersed in chilliness for brief periods? But then...after having arrived home predictably sweaty from one of the aforementioned sports events...Riley came downstairs and informed me that he was unable to achieve a comfortable water temperature in his bathroom shower. Uh-oh. A cursory investigation led me to the conclusion that--yep, folks, it was sadly true---we were totally deprived of anything but absolutely frigid H20.

Siiiiigh. 3/4 of the family sucked it up that evening (shivering profusely) and suffered through verrrry short...bracing...spritzes. (In case you're wondering, I refused to attempt to wash my hair under these conditions. I opted instead for a...let's say "camping solution": washcloth, soap, sink....and figured the 'do could survive in a jaunty ponytail for one more day.) The next morning I commenced calling plumbing professionals again--the plural being necessary because the first several I contacted said they could send someone out "Monday...or Tuesday".

I'm sorry, WHAT? I realize this isn't exactly an emergency along the lines of "water gushing out of a pipe and flooding the house, requiring immediate attention and assistance"...but STILL! Which part of "stinky people, offending their fellow human beings, over an entire weekend" are you failing to understand? C'mon, work with me, here! ('Cuz yeah, about the Arctic shower thing? Just. Not. Happening.) Finally I reached a contractor who said the magic words: "Yeah, I can send someone out there this afternoon." I didn't even wait to hear what time she proposed, before I accepted the deal. "Thank you! We'll be here!"

And all I have to say about that visit is: God. Bless. Plumbers. When he couldn't find anything wrong with the unit attached to the outside wall of the house, or the control panel in the laundry room, he had to take the next step. That would be....climbing into the dark, damp area under the porch, to examine some pipe or another. (I swear, my brain went into "la la la, I'm not listening mode" when he told me what he would be doing, as all I could imagine were the thick, clinging spider webs he'd have to negotiate through to reach the far end of the crawlspace...whole-body-shudder...)

In the end, it turned out to be a faulty valve...which he replaced on the spot...allowing steaming water to flow once again from every faucet in the house, on demand. Yaaaayyyyyy! After politely explaining it to us, he packed up his tools to leave. There seemed to be one more little item to take care of, though. "Um...what do I owe you?" I asked in confusion. He waved a hand unconcernedly, "Oh, they'll bill you." Alrighty, then. Let me tell ya, whatever amount happens to appear at the bottom of that invoice whenever it arrives...it will have been WELL worth it to avoid the arachnids and resume the personal hygiene around here!

In fact, I'd feel like I should take advantage of my quiet Sunday, since this coming week Husband will be away for several days on work-related business, leaving me to do ALL of the carpooling and household management myself. So I think I'll have a warm shower...and an icy adult beverage (perhaps not at the same time, however)...to prep for the impending extra dose of mayhem. Cheers!

Tuesday, October 20, 2015

Oh, October, you fickle little minx...

Do you ever kind of get the feeling that October's....just messin' with ya? For instance, here in Casa WestEnders we made the heretofore unprecedented move of (wait for it) switching the thermostat over to the heat setting. (I know, right: GASP!) Now, I was monitoring the temperature inside, and it was hovering around the point when the warm air would come on...if I allowed it. But I wanted to hold off as long as possible. Why? Oh, I don't know...my innate stubbornness? A misplaced sense of...competition? (Who or what, exactly, I was attempting to beat, I have no clue...so let's just agree that I won, and leave it at that...)

But then--and here I'm going to ask you to take my word for it, because what I'm about to tell you will sound like I'm making it up, but I promise you it's the unvarnished truth--someone who shall remain nameless...okay, it was HUSBAND...begged...cajoled...slyly enlisted the children to join him in a verbal bullying campaign...and when none of that achieved the desired result, resorted to whining...to convince me to kickstart the furnace. (Yeah, it wasn't pretty. Especially considering that it was a whole lotta fuss for 66*...unbearably frigid, yeah? Oh, and I'M the only one who's ever cold, anyway!)

I swear we just had the windows open not very long ago to let in the fresh post-Summer breezes; nevertheless, with a sigh, I gave in to the familial pressure and turned on the heat. And then--wouldn't you know it--the temperatures plummeted and we got our very first overnight freeze warning. Riley's reaction was priceless: "I'm COLD! Capital "C", Capital "O". Capital "L". Capital "D". Exclamation point...snowflake emoji!" It was the kind of weather where you dress in layers in the morning, only to shed several of them by 10 a.m. (I shudder to admit that this includes...a coat! If you think I'm being dramatic...well, I AM, but you must understand that this goes against every fiber of my being. All right, all right--it wasn't really a thick one, but still! "Coat" and "October" are usually mutually exclusive...as it should be!)

Anyway, both of the horrified boys actually (grudgingly) donned long-sleeved warmup jackets to leave the house in the morning. They also found it necessary to complain about it vociferously, as if I, personally, had anything to do with the situation, or could remedy it for them. "Hmmm, hold on a minute, let me send a quick text to my close pal Mother Nature, and voice your concerns. I'm sure she'll get right on that. Oh, look, she says 'Suck it up, Buttercup'. Ooh, would you look at the time...now howzabout you get out of here and go learn something useful in school, 'kay?"

Then there was the dilemma that crops up at about this time every year, regarding whether to change the bedding from the lightweight sheets to flannels. Because you know what inevitably happens when you do that, right? Yep: "Hello, Indian Summer." So far the adolescent-heat-producing-organisms--I mean "sons"--have declined either warmer sheets or heavier covers. Husband and I, however, opted for both the fuzzier bedclothes AND the insulating blanket. And, of course, it's supposed to reach the mid-70s for the next 3 days. Which, on the one hand...yaaayyy! Who knows, maybe we can even fling open the sashes again (metaphorically) to soak up the last bit of pre-chilly Fall...ness. On the other hand...better dig out the lighter fleece throw, lest we broil during the night.

Yeah, perhaps M.N. and I aren't quite as much BFFs as I might hope. Do you think it would help if I sent her a nice...I don't know...harvest fruit basket? Maybe laced with some lovely...mood stabilizing herbs....or something? Then she just might be willing to entertain a simple, polite request: if it's not too much to ask, ma'am, could we please have some true Autumn conditions for a while...before the Least Favorite Season of Cold and Dark descends upon us? Thanks a bunch. Hope you enjoyed the produce...the flower arrangement is on its way....

Friday, October 16, 2015

The final installment? (Fingers crossed...)

I imagine a "real writer" (you know, someone who totally invents stories--rather than "embellishing what actually happened" like I do--and then sells them for a living) must operate under some kind of Master Plan when crafting a novel. They probably lay out the structure before they begin, and then follow the natural progression of their ideas as they put them on paper. (Ha! She chuckles as she TYPES those words on a computer screen. Does anyone actually scribble their thoughts anymore? Oh wait...I do...but only when it's my To Do List!) But in the Book of Life, the plotline can be convoluted, with unforeseen twists, narrative back-tracking, and...oh, just general confusion.

That basically describes the process I've been going through for the past year or so, of Figuring Out What to Do (Next), Professionally. When Team WestEnders moved to North Carolina, I immediately explored options for academic interpreting, but found that none of the area's schools seemed to require services at that time. So I began checking the electronic job boards...at first once a week, but as time dragged on and I became more bored and restless, I stepped it up to every 3 days. I was fairly picky about what I applied to--the position had to meet some strict criteria that I decided would fit my situation. Still, I submitted (what felt like) bunches of resumes, mostly to no avail.

There were a few interviews, none of which came to fruition, but all of which I appreciated as Valuable Learning Opportunities. (Since I hadn't looked for work in, oh, 15 years!) Particularly the special circumstance that is the "screening call". I had NEVER participated in one of those...and as someone who generally loathes the phone as a rule, this was especially...disconcerting. I found it sooooo awkward to respond to tough questions without being able to see the other person. It was startling to me to get such a stark reminder of how much I rely on visual cues to feel comfortable talking with someone. (Is this a universal "thing"? Or am I just weird...never mind, don't answer that.....moving on...)

Anyway, this went on for a while, until last June, when I was hired by a very small local educational company that focuses on teaching English to non-native speakers. However...my initial thrill and relief were short-lived, as I realized it was not, in fact, quite the right..."fit"...for me. Siiiiigh. Back to the old drawing board after only 6 weeks. (Except I have absolutely zero artistic skills whatsoever, so...maybe "scratch pad" would be a more appropriate metaphor? Or whatever...) At least I left with a much clearer vision of what I DID want...and began the search all over again.

Then it just so happened that one of the community colleges in the area contacted me, saying that they needed interpreters for the Fall Semester. Hmmm....this posed an intriguing dilemma. While I loved my interpreting gig back in Maryland, I had pretty much given up on finding something similar here. So in my mind, I had moved on to the objective "try something new". And yet... if I didn't give it a shot, I had a feeling I'd be left with unhealthy regrets, rather than satisfying closure. Therefore I signed on (ha! sorry...) to do classes 2 days a week, just to see what was what. Having done so, I can report that--taking nothing else into consideration at all--I'm doomed by the commute. None of the campuses is closer than 40 minutes, and the primary one that I report to is a solid hour away. NOT the most efficient use of my day, when I'm neither being paid for that block of time spent on the road...nor accomplishing any of the other tasks for which I'm responsible.

For this reason (among others that I don't need to get into) I had already decided that I would call this a temporary experiment, and--you guessed it--re-commence looking for the Next Big Thing. Now, backing up just a bit...in May, I had applied to a non-profit, whose main office is located in Bethesda, Maryland. (My old stomping grounds!) Their Southeast Regional Office, conveniently situated 10 minutes from my house, on Franklin Street in good old Chapel Hill, was seeking an Administrative Assistant. I was initially contacted for one of those dreaded telephone interviews pretty quickly...then heard nothing at all. This was a bummer, because the organization is centered around research into Early Childhood Development, for the purpose of supporting children's success and growth...a topic which is kind of right in my wheelhouse, given both my educational background and my experience working in school settings during my career.

Then on one of my twice-weekly forays through the virtual world of employment vacancies, I noticed that the company had advertised again, for the same position. Interesting...so I sent my packet to them once more. (Because, hey, persistence and follow-through are positive traits, right?) Aaannnd...nada. (Nothing like being discouraged a second time...to build character...or some such nonsense...) But hold on just a minute...2 months or so after that, they emailed me to set up an in-person meeting...yay! So I went in and chatted with 2 very nice ladies in the office. And you know, it was one of those scenarios where it seemed to me like it went very smoothly--they asked the kinds of questions where you had to think-on-your-feet and problem-solve out loud, and I felt reasonably articulate and intelligent. But then afterwards...if you're me, that is...you inevitably start second-guessing yourself. Did I come across as confident (good)? Or cocky (gulp)? Was I assertive (plus)? Or too forceful (cringe)?

And I had plenty of time to stew about it, because...AGAIN with the radio silence.  At last, several weeks later, another email showed up, saying that they were now ready to speak with my references. Oh boy! This might signal that we're nearing the end, one way or another! (But jeez...I'm not sure anyone's actually contacted "my people" before now...I sure hope they say nice things about me!) Anywhoo...long story...well, "long" (this is ME, after all, you should be used to it by now, yeah?) another week or so went by before they...drum roll...although you must know what I'm about to say, given the silly, unnecessary buildup of false anticipation...where was I? Oh, yeah...they offered it to me. (And I accepted, obviously!)

So, there just remained the teensy tiny little logistical issue of...how to finagle meeting both of my obligations--interpreting and...administrate...ing--until classes wrap us in December. Fortunately, with the hours being part-time anyway, they were understanding and flexible enough to allow me to divide my days for now, until I can join the office for my regular schedule in 7 or 8 weeks. Phew!

There you have it: a relatively short period of craziness with M/W full days at the nearby office, and T/Th driving far away to interpret for a few hours. Fridays will remain open for such wonders as Costco (groan) or field trips (hurrah!). And hopefully, with an inordinately long set-up period, and some creative editing along the way, the story now has reached its happy ending! Stay tuned...next week should tell the tale...

Monday, October 12, 2015

Ah...October...

October has always been one of my favorite months. We get cooler, less drippy weather, which makes it even more enjoyable to be outdoors than in the Summertime (when we still go out and frolic in nature, to be sure...it's just, shall we say, "sweatier"). The brilliantly-cloaked trees offer a panoramic treat for the eyes. Of course, we already know how my tastebuds feel about the pumpkin-flavored everything. (Picture them doing a...gastronomic happy dance...or whatever...) And finally, at long last, a legitimate excuse to put on a cozy sweatshirt (rather than just the disturbing corporate tendency to simulate Arctic conditions via overly-aggressive-air-conditioning).

After our recent stretch of meteorological madness that felt almost dire enough to inspire a frenzy of...Ark-building (not quite 40 days...but a solid 2 weeks of near-constant precipitation is plenty, thanks very much)...it seems we've turned the corner into Autumn. Right now we have what I, personally, would consider the "best of both worlds": night time temperatures dipping low enough to warrant flannel sheets on the bed, but daytime highs climbing into the 70s. (Yaaaayyy!)

While in our region we haven't yet seen the leaves donning their Fall colors, the acorns are certainly leaping from the trees, which can surely be taken as a sign to the manic squirrels that run rampant in our neighborhood that it's time to SCURRY COLLECT HIDE STOCKPILE the dang things for the coming Winter. Sometimes it sounds as if our house is under attack, with the little buggers thwacking and bouncing off the roof (that is, the acorns, not the squirrels...I just want to be clear...) I swear, either we've got some extra-large oak seeds...or possibly our furry rodent population has some serious anger issues.

(If you think I'm exaggerating, you should come to my house some day and attempt to retrieve the mail by negotiating our steep driveway. With...projectile nut bombs...raining down on your head. While also paying attention to the ones already on the ground, just lying in wait to roll under your feet and send you hurtling down the hill in a not-so-funny cartoon-character-pratfall moment. I'm just speaking hypothetically, of course....)

Although there are still flowers blooming all over the place, some folks have taken advantage of the favorable weather to get outside and adorn their houses with Halloween decor. And on the last portion of my long and winding drive to work, I pass a field...which I noticed a couple of weeks ago had--seemingly overnight--sprung a plethora of bright orange pumpkins. Since then I've enjoyed observing them every Tuesday and Thursday, as they grow and ripen in the October sunshine.

This month also is known for....let's call it the Winds of Change (aaannnnd, that's just great...now I have the Scorpions song stuck in my head...ay yi yi...). There are a few more weeks of Riley's cross-country and Derek's soccer seasons. The first marking period for the academic year ends next Friday. And as for me? Well, I was offered (and accepted) a new job that is tentatively set to begin next Monday. "But, wait just a cotton pickin' minute," I can hear you protesting. (Jeez, you sound exactly like my Great Aunt Renie! That's just spooky...) "Aren't you already employed? What's up with that?"

The answer is: until the end of the current semester I'm going to attempt to...use my Time Machine (patent pending) and thereby manage to be in 2 places at once! Yeah, I wish. But seriously, I plan to continue interpreting 2 days a week, and going in to the office (which is, thankfully, 10 minutes from my house) the other 3, until classes wrap up in early December. This will mean that things around Casa WestEnders will probably be a little...um...."discombobulated"...without me having my typical "errand time" available to get...stuff....done. But after all the sports finish, the daily picking-up/dropping-off-kids routine will cease to be an issue.

And (she grins in her best Evil Genius "this just occurred to me but I love it" kind of way) I can probably use my "overbooked" excuse to shove some of the...less desirable...chores...onto Husband's To Do List! Such as, oh, I don't know, I'm just thinking out loud, here...the weekly Costco trip...mwah hah hah! (Hey, being "home-based" these days, he sometimes notes how seldom he gets out of the house. So really, I'm doing him a FAVOR, yeah? Sure, we'll go with that...)

Anyway, that's the scoop. Because, Heaven forbid things get too "settled" around here, ya know? Eh, if I find the temporary...double agent....situation difficult to cope with...I'll just have to drink more pumpkin spice lattes, right? Stay tuned...and wish me luck!


Wednesday, October 7, 2015

Sometimes, I just love my "job"

It's an irrefutable truth that...stuff...changes as you get older. Some of these alterations are inevitable with the passing of time--you know what I'm talking about: the physical and mental differences that on any given day can pretty much go either way on the positive/negative scale (Yay, increased wisdom and a rich array of life experiences! Boo, aches and pains, and short-term memory loss. Now, what was my point? Ha! Kidding...mostly...)

But one thing that I've noticed in the last few years is that there are some "issues" that I tend not to take as seriously anymore. For example, I used to be one of those women who wouldn't dream of leaving the house without makeup. Let me be clear--it wasn't because I was just THAT concerned with trying to impress the world-at-large (such as, you know, the grocery store). It's just that I felt less...self-conscious...once I'd done my best to at least conceal the ever-present dark circles and splash some color onto my pasty Irish cheeks.

These days...I just don't care as much. Oh, don't get me wrong, I haven't discovered some miracle solution that allows me to appear well-rested and glowing. (Dang it! If you know of one, please share!) Nope, I'm still rocking the tired, pale...Midlife Mom look (NOT highly sought after...unless it's for one of those "Modern Makeover" articles in a women's magazine), but I finally accepted that--whattya know--the Earth keeps turning, regardless...and besides, everybody else is probably too busy with their own agenda to notice whether I took the time to put myself together that morning before rushing out of the house anyway.

So, why am I bringing this up? Well, the upside of my new knowledge, of course, is that it's very freeing to stop worrying about that kind of inconsequential nonsense. But the even bigger payoff is: the opportunity to mortify your children. (As is your God-given right as a parent. It's in the Bible; you can look it up. Okay, okay, put down the King James--I might have just made up that part. But it's like...a corollary to the whole Honor thy Father and Mother commandment, right? C'mon: "Thou shalt be permitted to keep thy offspring in line by embarrassing them if necessary." Maybe it's implied...or...maybe it's just me...)

Anyway, a recent example: I was preparing to go out into the neighborhood for a run. Now, keep in mind that I'm planning to exercise...and therefore I could not care less what I look like while I get all sweaty. So I have attired myself appropriately for my activity; that is, with my wide, stretchy headband (to secure the wayward bangs); bermuda-length cargo shorts made out of a light, water-resistant material that holds up well to both weather and perspiration (and with pockets that stow the proper number of tissues (2) required for my nose, which has a tendency to run when I do); a nylon/lycra athletic t-shirt; my orange headphones to provide the tunes; and for the final coup de...fashion nightmare...my knee-high, fluorescent green compression socks.

I must admit, here, that the overall...um "festivity"....of my outfit was enhanced exponentially by the fact that nothing I had put on matched any other piece. Yep, I was a regular old...riot of running gear, I tell ya. When I came down to the kitchen to grab my shoes and go, Derek caught sight of me and stopped dead in his tracks. His mouth fell open. His eyes bugged. And as he shook his head in utter dismay, he managed to choke out, "What. Are. You. WEARING?" I looked down at my....all right, it was fairly nauseating...ensemble...and shot back defiantly, "I'm comfortable! And I'm going to work out!" He sighed, took a quick peek out the window, and asked hopefully,"Can you wait until it's almost dark?" When I just glared at him, he gave up and muttered resignedly, "Well, I hope you don't pass anyone I know..." (Mwah hah hah...one son down, one to go!)

Then I got my chance with Riley a couple of days ago, when I signed up to volunteer at his cross-country meet as a Course Monitor. (Or, more descriptively "Glorified Traffic Cone"...but whatever, it's all for the KIDS, right?) I fortunately remembered to warn--um "inform"--Riley ahead of time that I would be performing this valuable service for his team. I'm not quite sure what kind of reaction I was expecting...gratitude, maybe? Recognition for the support and the donation of my time? (Yeah, silly me...)

Still, I was a bit taken aback by the severe expression on his face when my darling child responded in a harsh tone, "Fine, Mom." (Oh....kay. What the heck?) He continued after a pause, "You can say 'hi', and I'll say 'hi'. You can wave, and I'll wave back." Gee...thanks? Here his voice took on even more vehemence, and he looked me firmly in the eye as he delivered the final proclamation, "But NO 'honey'. NO 'sweetie'. NO,,, 'PUMPKIN'! Got it?" Ohhhhhhhh! So that's what was getting his knickers all in a twist. I hastily promised him that I would stick to the acceptable, "Buddy" when in the general vicinity of his teammates (which include those most magical of creatures..."girls"...so I can only assume that's part of the concern he feels about this sensitive topic) and he calmed down.

On meet day, I made sure to be on my best behavior: "This way, around the bleachers, ladies. Way to go, guys, keep it up, you're doing great!" and similar encouraging yet non-targeted cheers. I must have performed satisfactorily, because afterwards, I was rewarded with a hug from my muddy, damp trail-tackler. So there you have it. I sense that there are suddenly more...rules...than there used to be, for how parental-type-people are expected to comport themselves around the adolescent crew.

Eh, who am I trying to fool? I'm gonna continue to dress however I choose, and if I accidentally slip up and call one of MY OWN CHILDREN 'sweetie' in front of their peers, they'll learn a valuable lesson like I did: that life goes on...and after, oh, 20 seconds or so (the approximate attention span of a young pre-adult male) nobody gives a flying fig. Then I'll have to up my game and figure out new ways to excel at Torture the Teenagers...what? I'm joking! (Mostly...)

Friday, October 2, 2015

ESPN and the Weather Channel in a Battle of Wills

I believe that Mother Nature--no matter how...psychotic...her moods may seem while we're in the midst of enduring them--really strives to achieve some kind of harmony in her life. For example, this past Summer our region experienced plenty of (i.e. "too darn much") heat and humidity...but practically no rain. (I mean, at ALL--I remember one or two thunderstorms during the entire season, and that's about it.) So the past week's crazy weather makes sense, in a "tip the scales back into balance....right NOW" kind of way. However, while I understand and appreciate the need for...environmental equilibrium, I've gotta say that it certainly wreaks havoc on, say, one's outdoor activities.

Let's see, the Fall Freakfest kicked off on Friday, September 25th. How do I know this? Simple--because that's the first day the WestEnders family calendar shows an event written in the appropriate color for the participant (in this case, Derek)...and then neatly crossed off when it was canceled. Specifically, the Chapel Hill High School soccer matches for that evening were rained out. Little did we suspect that this represented only the beginning of the ensuing mayhem. It continued the next day, as Riley's game suffered the same fate. Then on Sunday--at which point soggy conditions had persisted, but it was NOT actually precipitating at the time--Riley and Husband dutifully trekked all the way to Raleigh for another round of soccer....but the other team never appeared. I guess they decided it was too...puddly...to play? (Yet here's the funniest part: they were scheduled to run around on TURF. Hmm...it seems that some people can't hack a little...squishy adversity, I tell ya!)

Oh, but there's more! Yep, the following day (we're up to Monday, the 28th, if anyone's concerned) both Riley's cross-country meet and Derek's soccer match were--you guessed it--postponed due to the wet stuff. And I honestly don't even recall if there were still showers in the forecast, or if the ground was just too goopy by this time to have kids slipping and sliding around in what pretty much amounted to a swampy terrain situation. Either way, the list of  "save it for a non-rainy day" stuff just kept piling up.

And then--hallelujah--we finally got to squeeze in one lone contest: JV and Varsity soccer on Wednesday evening. I managed to make it by the midpoint of Derek's game, and was rewarded with one of the most entertaining halves of soccer I've ever witnessed. The score was 2-1 in our favor when I took my seat on the bleachers and prepared to cheer on the Tigers. During the next 35 minutes, Chapel Hill scored 4 times (while allowing no goals). One of the opposing players was issued a straight red card (for those more familiar with American football than the international version, that's an immediate ejection, without a prior yellow card warning having been issued) for...I don't actually know for sure, since it happened on the far sideline away from our vantage point....but presumably some kind of blatant, illegal action.

The excitement also included 2 subsequent yellow cards, one for each team. When the Chapel Hill player came back to the bench, having been pulled by the coach after his infraction, I heard him admit--with not even an ounce of remorse, I should note--"Yeah, I pulled him down by his jersey, and the ref saw me." (Ahh, yes...a prime example of that fine line between "acceptably aggressive contact" and "inappropriate offensive-lineman-type-behavior".) And for the final thrill, in the waning minutes of the lopsided game, someone on the other team (literally) RAN INTO Derek, bounced off, hit the ground...and didn't get back up.

He then proceeded to lie there for so long (receiving attention from the coaches, but fortunately appearing to be mostly okay) that the refs eventually decreed that the game clock should just be started up again and allowed to run, since the outcome was not really in question...and, who knows, maybe they were hungry, or something. Afterwards, Derek reported that he thought he had overheard the officials briefly discussing whether to yellow-card him. He proclaimed that he would have reacted to this nonsense loudly and vehemently, while leaving the field under protest, since the whole incident fell firmly into the category of "not his fault". He also mentioned that his coach had cracked them all up by joking, "Jeez, my wife could ref better than this guy...and she's 9 months pregnant!" Whew...it was a perfect game for those who claim that soccer is boring, that's for sure!

Okay, our luck held on Thursday, as Riley's cross-country meet went forward as scheduled. It was cool; it was breezy; it constantly threatened to sprinkle...but the runners managed to squeeze in their 1.9 miles, regardless. I have to say, it's hard for me to tell from the sidelines, watching as the kids lope past, how the race is actually...going. I mean, it's obvious who's in front (I've noticed that they're typically very tall, long-legged kids). But after that, it becomes less clear-cut. There are usually groups of runners clumped together, and the packs are somewhat spaced out from each other. And since it's, well, "cross-country" they go off into the woods at some point and disappear for a while before re-emerging to finish the course.

So yeah, I just yell for Riley whenever he gets close enough, and clap for the team to encourage them whenever they come into view. However, Riley told me when he was done that his coach had called it his "break-through performance". He finished 7th overall, and 5th among his own teammates, which in the obscure, confusing scheme of score-tallying (that I will probably never comprehend, so I'll continue to take their word for it...forever) means that his time actually counted towards the team's win. So, yaaaay, Riley! When we got home, it occurred to me that I would be wise to hightail it outside for a run, myself, since I'd likely be housebound...or very, very waterlogged...for the next several days. And believe me, I patted myself on the back a couple of hours later--after I'd already worked out and enjoyed a nice, steamy shower--when my ears detected the unmistakable sound of the latest downpour commencing.

In fact, the most recent meteorological scene is being attributed to Hurricane Joaquin, who politely decided not to make landfall in the Outer Banks, as his original path indicated, but who nonetheless "gifted" us with torrential rainfall and potential flash flooding anyway. (Thanks a bunch for that, by the way. Worst. Visitor. EVER.) Therefore the high school deemed it best to make a preemptive strike 24-hours ahead of time, and postpone tonight's game already. Aaaannnd with the amount of total precipitation we're predicted to receive, Riley's match for tomorrow is pretty doggone unlikely as well. (In my opinion, the odds falling somewhere between "snowball's chance in you-know-where" and...."just freakin' fuhgeddaboutit".)

Eh, I suppose we'll just have to resign ourselves to a weekend of...rest, relaxation, and recuperation...hey, wait a minute, that sounds kind of AWESOME! Make some popcorn, settle down on the sofa, pass out the throw blankets, and bring on Movie Night!