It's "Homecoming" week. The reserved seating at the stadium has sold out but there's plenty of general admission seating available. I got this email from an instructor:

 

Inst:  How do I get tickets for the homecoming game?

Me (marveling at how many times I send this information out in email yet still get queries):  The reserved section is sold out but you and your immediate family get in free with your employee i.d., in the general admission sections.

Inst:  Will general admission hold a certain seat for me?

Me (feeling absolutely incredulous that someone with a master's degree doesn't know the difference between reserved & general admission): YES, it holds you any one of the 12,000 available general admission seats. That's why they call it "general" admission. Unfortunately, it will not hold a specific seat for you as those are all in the reserved section.

Inst (happy with my answer): Okay, THANKS.

 

Incredible.

 

We all seem to have blinders on. We get in our zones and we're comfortable and we forget there's a whole buncha other stuff happenin' out there somewhere. I was sooo perturbed about the faculty member who didn't know about something so menial as tickets. Then I realized that if I went to her department I wouldn't know squat about graphic arts/photography. She's a whiz at that stuff. I then, of course, felt like poop in my own head for discrediting her intelligence because she didn't know about something that I deal with that seems so simple. Don't anybody tell her that everytime someone hands me their camera to take a picture for them that I can't find the button, and have even been known to ask where the "eye-hole" is on a digital camera. I KNOW! Crazy, huh? Guess who doesn't own a camera?!

 

Isn't it weird that we celebrate and revere movie stars and athletes but don't give a thought to an ambulance driver or ER nurse or school teacher? Sometimes I think the world is upside down. The person teaching our kids reading, writing, and arithmetic is making beans but the guy that flunked outta college but can catch a ball on the run is getting millions. I can't tell you how many times I've heard how overpaid teachers are because they only work nine months a year. Good grief.

 

My truck is still in the shop. What was once a wonderful opportunity for me to get my brakes & axle fixed for the cost of parts only has become a nightmare. It was supposed to take 2-3 days and I am now on Day 9. If they don't finish it tomorrow I'll be without a vehicle for another weekend as they don't have automotive classes on Friday. Shit fire. I've been so patient and understanding...until today. The instructor knew from the tone of my voice that my patience has reached it's limit. My friends have been great about chauffering me around but I'm riding to work with a friend who has to be there thirty minutes before my scheduled ETA, which I don't make 99% of the time. So I'm sleepy all day which makes me cranky(er). It stinks because the truck is now at a place where I can't just go into a major shit-fit and say "put it back together and I'll get it fixed somewhere else!" The axle is in pieces. The only way to put it back together is for it to be fixed. I'm so FRUSTRATED. I have lotsa stuff on my social calendar this weekend and must have my vehicle to make them all. Football, soccer, a party, shopping... I gotta have that truck.

 

Bleahhhhhhhh. How can nothing be wrong when so many things are not right?

 

 

 

 

 

 Chuck T.I.T.S. (The Intern Turned Supervisor) called this evening. He's currently at an Air Force base up north doing final training on some stuff before he goes to Iraq in a few weeks. He's been gone from work for nearly a month. It's kinda funny that he called tonight - I think he must have sensed that I missed him. Yesterday I copied some cd's to mail to him and today I put a yellow ribbon & flags on his office door.

 

It's so easy to be objective about the war in Iraq until you have a dog in that fight. It's amazing what a difference it makes to actually know someone who is in harm's way. I find my ears perking up when I hear reports on the news, and reading more articles about the war online, etc. It was the same when my niece's husband was there. I think, "Oh, our soldiers are so brave and I appreciate their sacrifices on my behalf, to protect our freedoms, blah blah blah." But when one of mine is actively participating my thoughts change to, "Okay, this shit needs to END. NOW!!" Yes, I realize that's absolutely selfish but I also think it's human nature.

 

It all reminds me of the late sixties when my brother's lottery number came up and he was about to be drafted. Oh, my LORD...I was terrified. At twelve years I was old enough to understand the danger but not able to grasp all the political nuances of the whole thing. All I knew was that my brother was going to Vietnam. I had seen the war reports on the news each evening, and I had caught bits and pieces of adult conversation about such things as so-and-so's son being killed. Somebody's son was a blithering idiot because the Viet Cong had strung him up in a tree and slashed his stomach and his own guts hung in his face for hours. Somebody was missing in action. And my brother was going there. No, no, no.

 

Instead of letting the Army draft him, my brother joined the Air Force. He had to sign up for an extra year but most AF jobs at that time were safer than being in the Army infantry. He would do his basic training at Lackland Air Force Base (TEXAS). We couldn't just take him to San Antonio, though. Nope, he had to do the soldier thing and ride the bus. So my parents, sister, future sister-in-law, and I took him to the bus station in Tyler, TX. That was one of the saddest and most traumatizing days of my entire life. We spent the day in Tyler (we lived in a little bitty town about 50 miles from there) visiting the Rose Garden, eating in a real restaurant (they weren't as common back then and there wasn't a McDonald's), and just being together. Very bittersweet moments. At the bus station we waited for his bus to arrive. Once it did we began the rounds of goodbye hugs, reminders to be careful, and we couldn't tell him enough how much we loved him.

 

It's days like that when it's good to be a woman. We were able to openly cry. My dad and brother tried to swallow the tears and "be men" about the whole thing. My brother did okay, but my dad couldn't hold it in as the bus pulled away. There are certain images burned into my brain that I'll never forget. One of them was my brother's face in the window of that fucking bus as it drove away. Even at twelve I knew it was a metamorphosis of some sort for my brother. I knew instinctively that when he came back he would be different from the brother that was on that bus. On his face I saw sadness at leaving us, fear of the unknown in his near and distant futures, the longing to look at us for as long as he possibly could, yet having to look away to stop the tide of emotion. From that day until my brother came home seven months later, I prayed myself to sleep. I consider his honorary [medical] discharge a miracle from all my prayers. A more cynical person would point out that the president began troop withdrawals and they offered my brother the option of a discharge or free sinus surgery. He took the discharge. I still hate that bus station.

 

I wore a POW bracelet for several years during the Vietnam war. The name on my bracelet was Capt. William Schwertfegger. I never once took it off until I read his name on a list in the newspaper of released POWs at the end of the war. I wrote him and he sent me a picture of him greeting his family as he got off the plane that took him home. It was awesome. I wonder what ever happened to him...

 

I am a flag-wavin' American. I do appreciate our troops. I have no idea whether we should be in Iraq or not but I'm leaning toward "not." So, before it's time for my Pete to go back or Chuck has to actually step foot in Iraq, let's end that shit NOW...

 

 

Dear CeeCee:

 

I can't believe it's already your first birthday! It seems like yesterday that you got here and I felt such incredible happiness and almost paralyzing fear that you weren't as tough as you turned out to be. I still find it difficult to look at you without a huge lump forming in my throat and tears pooling in my grateful eyes. And then you smile at me and I can't keep from joining you in your pure joy in life.

 

Your Auntie is not the most faithful and trusting of Christians, you know. I tend to selfishly pray for what I want, which obviously hasn't always been what God wanted for me. But from the first time I walked into that NICU and looked at you in your bed, I've been absolutely and positively sure that there is a Higher Power because I could see it. Not just around your incubator, but the other babies, too. It was real. I've never felt the presence of God as strong in any church. The NICU will always be sacred ground to me, and the NICU nurses, if not angels, were certainly being guided by them. I try to explain the overwhelming feelings I experienced when visiting you in NICU, but I can't find the words. It was life-changing.

 

From the first time I held you in the NICU I felt our hearts communicating. You already seemed so much stronger and smarter than I, even with tubes and monitors tangling over my arms as I held you next to my heart. Whether my imagination or not, I felt us communicating our love to each other. You comforted me so much. You eased my fears.

 

I came home and read all about preemies on the internet. I wanted to learn what you needed, what I could do to make your life more comfortable. So I read about not over-stimulating you with motion, noise, lights, and stuff. I had never been around anything tinier except baby kittens! You looked like a skinned squirrel! I was used to big, healthy babies like your cousins. I knew how to cradle and rock an 8-lb baby, but one coming home at around 5 lbs? You were so fussy when you got home. It was such a big change for you! I wanted to be able to help your Mama but was afraid I would accidentally hurt you. All that worry for nothin'. You and I took to each other just fine, didn't we Baby Girl? I put you up on my chest with your head on my neck, and hummed you to sleep. Not a song, just a low steady hum. Wow, did I feel special! I felt you relax against me. That first week I was the 2nd best CeeCee keeper. (We won't tell your Grandmama because she thinks she was!) Your Mama, of course, was the best but she was so tired.

 

I'll never forget those first few times I came to your house to help take care of you. The person who hates traveling more than anyone in the world and I was jumpin' in my truck to come see you nearly every weekend for awhile there. I've put more miles on my truck since you were born than the entire year before. No kidding! I even got a flu shot because I read that preemies are susceptible to respiratory problems. I'm a geeky aunt. Ha!

 

And now...Oh, my heavens! You are so much fun! I don't see how a 14 lb something can have so much personality. You make me laugh now as much as you made me cry in the early months of your life. Even now, though, when you're in my arms and you're relaxing, my eyes are drawn to yours and it's like we're back in that NICU. You look at me like you've known me since the beginning of time, like you know my secrets, like you know my heart, like I matter to you. And I see in your eyes that it'll be okay, whatever "it" is. And, like the Grinch, I feel my heart growing, and growing, and growing much BIGGER...

 

So Happy Birthday, Baby Girl. Thank you for making me a better human being.

 

Love,

Auntie

{BIG sigh}

 

I'm smart, but not brilliant.

I like learning about stuff, but flunked out of college. (partied too much - didn't go to class)

I'm talented, but not very.

I'm funny, but not hysterically so.

I ain't pretty, but I ain't ugly.

I pay my bills, but I'm not rich (and many months, not even "comfortable.")

I have a job, but not a career.

I have a few friends, but I'm not in big demand. 

I can write a blog, but can't write well enough to do a book.

I have beliefs, but I'm wishy-washy.

I don't like hurting peoples feelings, but can be a monster bitch on occassion.

 

Ya feel the melancholia yet? Bleah. Intellectually I know that my life probably parallels the majority of Americans but (since everything is about ME) it doesn't feel like it. Sometimes I feel it's not a life - just an existence. I go to work, I come home...go to work, come home - then throw in a random outing with friends or family. Often, though, I feel that I'm not doing or being something I was destined to do or be. I feel that I was born to be something special, but didn't get the ambition gene that would make me push myself to accomplish goals. I've never had a clear understanding of what my role on this earth is supposed to be. I've always been pretty sure my shit didn't stink but now I'm not sure at all. I've been getting whiffs of something unpleasant and I'm the only one in the room (I can't even blame Timber for this one).

 

One thing I've always known is that it's ME holding ME back. Insecurity, self-consciousness, fear - all are well embedded in my brain. Those three things have ruled my life ever since I can remember. I can almost see the roadblocks I've thrown in front of myself. I can come up with excuses for any and every thing. I find it difficult, almost impossible, to accept a compliment because I just flat don't believe them. I'm so absolutely negative where I am concerned that I think anyone else is lying when they say something positive; from the important to the mundane things. When I receive a compliment I get a warm glow for a few seconds and then my psyche starts ripping it to shreds. I know it's happening yet feel helpless to stop. Before I know it I've talked myself right out of that warm glow.

 

Now, some days (like today) are much, much worse. I have to consciously take the list above and concentrate only on the left side. When the negative side starts seeping over I have to push it back. I'll admit right now that I'm not very good at doing that. I can even make myself feel unbridled guilt over not remembering to count my blessings, of which I have oodles. Guilt, then, breeds more contempt.

 

What I don't understand is how I got like this. I'm wondering what happened in my developmental years that made me such a head-case. When I remember back to my childhood all I recall is the loving atmosphere and the joy, with very few yechy moments mixed in. And most of the yechy wasn't mine - it was my brother's or sister's. I'm not looking to blame my parents for all my misfortune. I'm certainly old enough and knowledgeable enough to change negative patterns if I choose to.

 

If I choose to. What am I saying? I seem to know how to begin things, but then lack the drive to finish. I begin a LOT of things. I come up with LOTS of ideas for change. Then I fizzle. My entire life sounds like a hot poker in a bucket o' cold water. psssssssss...

 

So, at the age of fifty I'm finally understanding that I'm not destined to be great after all. Are you familiar with the 12th Man at Texas A&M? There are 11 football players on the field on offense & defense. The 12th Man is always on the sideline, waiting to go into the game when needed. That's me. I'm the 12th Man, waiting to be signaled into the game. Just my luck I'll run onto the playing field and get called for "too many men on the field" and get penalized five yards. Don't ya just love a bad football analogy?

 

All in all, though I don't live a life of "greatness," I do have great moments. Most of them have names because the greatest things in my life are people. Family. Maybe that's all I'm supposed to have - great moments. Maybe I expected too much outta life so that's what brings disappointments. We can't all be rich Sports Illustrated swimsuit models with perfect children and be married to a sensitive, caring man who's hung like a bull - right? ha! Anyone without a job, without family, without friends, etc, would read this and think what a greedy and selfish person I must be to whine when I have so much. They're right. But, did they miss the part where I said "it's all about ME?"

 

I went to Sears this morning to get a battery for my vehicle. Because it's five years old and everything on it was original, I asked the tech to go ahead and do a brake evaluation and check all my belts. They came back and told me there's a bad seal in my back axle that's leaking onto the back brakes and if I don't get it fixed real soon all the fluid will leak out of my axle and my whole back end will lock up. Ouch! They couldn't fix that part but new brakes from Sears will cost a little over $600. My nephew, the mechanic, was advising me long-distance via cell phone, "They're out of their minds" was the advice I received. He's gonna look at everything this weekend when we're both in Dallas. I don't trust mechanics/garages. I think I have "She knows nothing about cars so tell her whatever you want to and charge accordingly" stamped on my forehead. The guy this morning was trying to get me to pay $70 to flush out my coolant and add new. My nephew asked me how many miles I have on my vehicle and when I told him he said, "Uh, NO." (There ARE benefits to not traveling much!) I knew when I paid off my vehicle in June that something bad was sure to happen. It's been a GREAT vehicle so far, though. Other than oil changes and a door repair when the maintenance guy at worked backed into it, it's never been in the shop. Not bad for a five-year-old! Anyway, if nephew tells me I need major work on my axle I'm gonna drive to Waco and let him do it for me. I trust him, plus he can give me a discount.

 

I noticed something the other night... When I'm online Timber usually tries to lure me away by sticking his head under my arm and "tossing" it onto his head or back so I'll scratch him. I play along a coupla times but then make him lay down. Sometimes he lays down beside me, but usually he goes the few steps into the living room to lay down on his doggy-bed. He's learned that when he hears the "sign off" music from Windows that I'm available for petting duty again. My own little Pavlov dog! I hear his feet hit the floor as soon as the music stops playing. I tested him again the next evening and he did it again. I just think that's funny, but I'm easily amused.

 

The Cowboys are on Sunday Night Football. That realllly throws my internal clock off when they don't play on Sunday afternoon. I'll stay up too late tonight and then feel like crap tomorrow. OR, I'll fall asleep in the 3rd quarter and be pissed off about that. But if the Cowboys are way ahead (ha!) then I will be happy to have the relaxing game put me to sleep.

 

The [white] woman in Ohio who forgot her child was in her van in August will not have charges filed on her for the accidental death of the little girl. This woman will be in her own hell for the rest of her life. Another woman was cuffed and taken to jail after being found guilty of animal cruelty. According to the news account I read, she knowingly let a stray pit bull die in her backyard. She is black. She has twin boys for whom she is responsible. The NAACP is filing a grievance with the state attorney saying this is an obvious case of racial bias. When I first heard about this, before I read the news account, I thought, "Oh, crap - the NAACP whining again trying to get somebody off the hook." (Like they did for Michael Vick a coupla weeks ago.) Now I'm not so sure. There's no doubt that the woman whose child died should not have murder charges filed against her. Though tragic, it was an accident. And if the [black] woman had beaten the dog or whatever, I wouldn't have any sympathy for her at all. She SHOULD have called animal control, but she didn't. Her family asked that she be allowed to get her affairs in order before being hauled off to jail, but that request was denied. As a result, her sister is taking care of the twin toddlers, the woman is about to lose her job, and the sister cannot afford child care and needs to work at her own job. (All of his from an Ohio television station website.) Anyone who has read this blog for very long knows what a dog-lover I am, but this really seems too extreme in my opinion. Give her probation, some community service at the Humane Society, but let her take care of her children. She wasn't fighting dogs or raising pits - the dog wandered into her yard. I can't help but feel there's more to this story that isn't being reported. A nephew who changed his story, maybe someone she was trying to protect so didn't report the injured dog. I can't help but think about Martin Luther King, Jr.'s speech that he dreamed of a world where he would someday see little white children playing with little black children and there would be freedom and equality for ALL God's children. Well, I dream of a time when a criminal is judged by the crime he committed and not by the color of his skin or the thickness of his wallet or the success of his latest movie or his sport statistics. [PLEASE BE SENSITIVE OF OTHER PEOPLE'S FEELINGS WHEN POSTING COMMENTS TO THIS TOPIC.]

 

On a lighter note... CeeCee thinks she's the welcoming committee for My-Gym (where she attends fitness and exercise classes). Everytime a new baby comes to class she crawls over to kiss them and welcome them to the group. She polices the class and checks on each baby who cries and tries to comfort them. She's such a trip. Everywhere she goes people make over her. I think she expects it now and will flirt with people until they notice her. My niece says that CeeCee acts like she's in a parade everytime they go to a store or mall, and she is queen of the parade. One more week until her first birthday...

 

I've already started my Sunday evening dreading of Monday morning. Does that make sense? After my trip to Sears this morning and realizing I'll have to come up with at least $1,000 for axle and brake repairs, I know I made the right decision about not retiring right now. This is the kind of shit that was making me freak out at being on a fixed income. But, when I think about waking up early every day this week and dealing with poop I wish I could have retired after all. Oh well. My day's coming.

 

I hope we all have a great week. Keep smiling and take care.

 

 

One of our football players went astray. He attended summer school last semester in order to get eligible but then screwed off and flunked. Guess who didn't tell his mama? He came back to school as a redshirt but then blew curfew on the first night and got suspended from the team. Guess who didn't tell his mama? Then he did something else (can't remember what it is) and got kicked off the team. Guess who didn't tell his mama? Guess whose mama came to school yesterday to find out why her son wasn't getting to play football? Yep, his mama. Poor woman got quite a surprise when she found out the real scoop. Poor kid got quite a surprise when the athletic director called him in and there sat the coach, the vice president of student whatever, and...his mama. B-U-S-T-E-D. She said, "Boy, you done messssed up." Then she made him apologize to everyone in the room, one at a time. I can only imagine what she said when she was alone with him.

 

So then today my boss tells the coach, "If you wanna save [the kid] you need to have him check in with Angie once or twice a week and let her talk to him - she'll keep him on the straight and narrow." Wh-what? It really impressed my boss when I made the big guy cry last spring. Kids are like dogs - they can spot a fake a mile off. When I talk to kids I don't really threaten them with a punishment, I just let them know what the consequences of their actions and choices might be. As college freshmen and sophomores they think they're grown. I think junior high and the first two years of college are some of the hardest a person will experience. You're not a kid, you're not a grown up. Your emotions are going through changes that make you feel nutty sometimes. You're trying to be more independent and hate to admit you still need guidance/support. It's a difficult time. I let them know that I care about what happens to them because I really do. Then I let them talk. Usually they tell me what they think I want to hear. My response is usually, "That's awesome. You really have your act together. It's a shame you're full o' shit." Their eyes get wide as I tell them exactly how I know they're full of it. I explain to them that I know about skipping classes because I flunked out of college as a result of doing the same thing. Some continue to argue their case, some hang their heads, some laugh. I listen and watch so I know how to act after that because if you use the wrong strategy you'll lose them. I have to decide whether to act angry (some kids will want to prove me wrong if I piss 'em off), disappointed (guilt is a powerful device), hopeless/sad (again they want to prove me wrong/more guilt), or use the sense of humor to get my message across. Different kids react differently. Sometimes I'm wrong and I will admit faults to them. I'm not afraid or embarrassed to let them see that I do care. I let them know that they automatically have my respect but once they lose it it's hard to earn it back. Every generation thinks they're the first to do "whatever" and that they're much smarter and slicker than those who came before them. Pfffft. Mainly I let them know that I'm not a counselor but just someone who cares very much. (We have a real counselor on campus and I tell the kids about that department in case they need that kind of counseling.) All I deal with is little stuff like skipped classes, stolen books, etc.

 

Today somebody "pssst" at me. I looked up and one of the football guys is standing there, sweaty and shirtless - black and shiny...and rippled. I think it was sweat; he may have been oozing testosterone. My instinctive reaction was a raised eyebrow and a low "woooo" because he looked like a Greek statue, except black and with mesh shorts. The little turd just grinned. I don't think he was expecting my reaction, just as I wasn't expecting to show it, but we both realized for just a second that something raw had happened. Not raw like I'd let him help me get my groove back (like Stella), just the kind of raw that makes ya giggle and helps ya realize you might be old butcha ain't dead...

 

Found me a dogsitter for next weekend! Jermizzle's gonna come over here for the weekend to stay with Timber. And if that falls through I have a backup (a new friend I haven't met yet-ha!). And the baseball coach said they would keep Timber but they're having two Sunday School parties at his house that weekend so I hate to add something else for them to deal with while company is there.

 

We hired another student worker. He's a talker. I had to keep sending him on errands today because he was talkin' me t'death. I was trying to concentrate on some work stuff at the computer with him talk, talk, talking in my left ear. I finally turned to him and said, "Boy, you're gonna HAVE to shut the hell up." Jermizzle nearly fell outta his chair laughin'. Turns out Jermizzle was timing me to see how long it would take me to tell the kid to shut up. Ha!!! I asked him how long it had taken and he said, "NOT LONG!" hahahahahhaha. Okay, patience is not one of my virtues. I got tickled because the new kid kept name-dropping and talking about how he did this and went there blah blah blah. Newbie said something about football so Jermizzle says, "Ohhhh, don't EVEN talk about the Bears!" Newbie didn't take the bait and kept talking about himself. Next time he mentioned football Jermizzle says, "I hope you don't start trying to talk about THE BEARS." I'm laughing because I know what he's doing - so I help him out, "Jermizzle, did you tell him who your cousin is?" Then Newbie was curious, "Who is it?" Jermizzle, "Well, uh, Lovie Smith is my cousin.......but I usually don't talk about it." hahahahahha. My Jermizzle had to drop a name, too!! Then we got RIDICULOUS with it. I started talking about the NBA people I know. Jermizzle asked me if I had talked to Karl lately and I said sure. Newbie says, "Karl who?" Jermizzle tells him I'm good friends with Karl Malone (a stretch). Jermahl and I were laughing so hard because we were schoolin' Newbie about name-dropping. I finally told him we didn't care who he knew and that I was naturally gonna know more people because I had been alive a LOT longer. He's a good kid. Jermahl and I have been together over a year, though, so we're pretty tight. I guess we were initiating the Newbie - and to his credit he took it very well! We're gonna have a lot of fun this semester.

 

Okay, I've bored you long enough. G'night!

 

 

 

There's a reason why I don't go to casinos or riverboats or play poker with friends. I STINK at gambling. If I bet on my team to win it's as if I put a curse on them. I can't even say to a friend, "I bet you didn't know the sun was gonna shine today" because it'll rain.

 

I put my gambling "skills" to the test this week. I've been listening to news reports which say gasoline prices are going down....WAY down. So, I'm keeping my eye on the price sign at the station I use all the time. Gas on Monday was $2.64, down from $2.72 not long ago. I have half a tank o' gas, so I'm gonna let the price go down a little more. Tuesday...$2.62. Oh, yeah. I'm 'bout ready to do the cheap-gas dance. It's realllly droppin' just like the news reports said. I'm still at half a tank - I'll let it go down a little more and then fill my tank at an extremely low price. Wednesday on my way to work...$2.frickin'69 again!! Another gamble LOST. So now I have to keep gambling. I'm still right at half a tank - so should I fill up at $2.69 in case it keeps going up, or gamble on it going back down? Fart. The price almost always changes one way or the other on Thursday night (right before the weekend) and tomorrow is Thursday. Whatever I decide to do I BETCHA I shoulda done the other thing...

 

Funny story:  My niece was at WalMart the other day with CeeCee. CeeCee is now 14 lbs of pure sugar mixed with lotsa spice. LOTSA spice!!! She was pitchin' a little fit in the buggy. (You see, she's very particular about her seating in the buggy. She doesn't like to sit with her feet through the front; she likes to sit sideways.) Anyway, somebody walked past and kinda laughed and said to my niece, "She's so CUTE!" CeeCee immediately stopped having her fit, smiled real big at the person, and said, "Well, HEY!" Ten days shy of her first birthday and she doesn't see a stranger. But {clearing throat} I don't know WHERE she gets that flirtiness! Hahahaha.

 

I bought the baby girls an 8-week membership to My-Gym, a play & fitness place for little kids. (And social opportunity for moms.) Addie and CeeCee love it! Some little toddler boy knocked CeeCee over the other day but instead of getting upset she followed him with her eyes and kept grinning at him. Addie's dad (CeeCee's uncle) told my niece that if that little droolin' bastard did that again he'd have Uncle Joe to answer to. He's so funny. Addie is more leary of strangers than CeeCee. The owner of the place got a little too close for Addie's comfort. She reared back in her mom's arms, pooched her lip out, and was about 1/2 a second away from telling him "NO!" She's a year old but she knows how to protect her space. She sets CeeCee straight all the time. It's hilarious. She points her finger and says "NO! No, no, NO!" Well, she IS the oldest...

 

I'll get to see all my brother's brood on CeeCee's birthday. I'm tryin' t'find a dogsitter so I can go a day early to help my niece prepare for the party. It ain't lookin' good. My regular guy is now a trainer at Texas A&M. (whooop!) and my backup just took a job as a dorm director. Hopefully the baseball coach can keep Timber for me.

 

If y'all aren't watching Federer v Roddick you're missin' a helluva tennis match. They're in a first-set tiebreak right now. Amazing. Go Andy!

 

I won't know what to do with myself this weekend. Soccer & volleyball are playin' outta town and it's a bye-week for football. SWEET!!! As much as I enjoy sporting events, sometimes it starts feelin' too much like work when you have something every other night. Bleah. I've taken grief all week because I left the football game early, and last night left the soccer game ten minutes early. Football was losin' and soccer was winnin' so I thought I might as well leave. ha.

 

Later!

Have any of y'all ever heard of Skype? My friend says you can download it and make free online calls. Sounds too good to be true, so (ever being the pessimist) I figure there has to be a catch. Let me know if you have any experience with it.

 

Okay, I'm heading to beddy-bye to watch the rest of this match, or at least as much as I can before I fall asleep.

 

 

I went to my college's football game last night. I always sit on the sideline so the kids know I'm there, which is the only reason I go. I was a fair-weather fan last night, though, because I left in the third quarter (bored outta my ghourd). We were losing and the guys just seemed flat. There were maybe two guys trying to pump everyone else up but the rest acted like they didn't get their nap out. (You know that feeling?) At one point I was lookin' around and then realized the play was headed toward my part of the sideline. I sit at the very back of the sideline so I'm not in anybody's way, but this kid's forward motion ran him right into the sideline misting-fan, over the bench, and pert-near into my lap. He stopped right in the nick of time. He says, "Hey, MizAngie" and ran back to the field. "Hey" I said. The ball, however, bounced off o' me and landed beside my chair. I threw it back to the ball boy. Then the trainer teased me for being "part of the game." Ha!

 

My chair was close enough to the cheerleaders that I could keep tabs on them, also. They're mostly cute girls but they're a little "softer" than college cheerleaders usually are. The director confided that she had to order some bigger skirts because last year's didn't fit this group. Now, keep in mind we're talking about skirts no bigger than probably a size 6. These girls still have cute figures, but I think last year's cheerleaders were probably 0's - 4's, with washboard abs. I looked down the line last night and these little ol' girls had skirts that were probably a size too small for them, which resulted in the softer flesh around their middles being squeezed up, which then resulted in their little bellies hanging over the tops of their skirts. This made them all appear to have little beer bellies. What's bad is that they roll the skirt waists down so more belly will show and it looks very vulgar. Supposedly there's an NCA rule about how much midriff can show. I don't think we're in compliance.

 

There was one cheerleader who was the epitome of a dingy blonde. They were doing a routine which involved jumping, clapping, and spelling the word "A-T-T-A-C-K" all at the same time and this was more than she could handle. I don't think I ever did hear her spell that word correctly and she had to keep stopping to get back in rhythm with the other cheerleaders. I was laughing so hard.

 

My favorite, of course, was the FLAG ROUTINE during halftime. Oh, my GAWD. It's so horrible. And last night they blended jazz moves, interpretive dance, and precision flag crap - WITH fake, wooden guns. (????) During the band's "Spanish" compilation, the precision flag routine was "enhanced" by the addition of the precision wooden gun routine, with further stylization by the two girls who must be so uncoordinated and untalented that all they could do was kick around in the intepretive dance exercise. Yech. Then the band did their "Patriotic medley." I'm thinking the flag corps will come out with red, white, & blue flags to enhance the band's theme. Oh, no. We went with the orange and black shiny flags in their own little tribute to, I guess, an All-American Halloween. Ugh.

 

One of the drill team girls nearly kicked her boot off during the high-kick routine. She was trying her best not to lose that boot (and didn't!) but you could tell she was shittin' a brick. She went off the field kinda like Clem Kadiddlehopper but she made it.

 

I really like sitting on the sideline. Before the game last night, one of our wide receivers ran over to get a kiss on the cheek, calling me his "good luck charm." Now that we got beat I may have lost that title. Ha! "Don't kiss me, Kid - everything I touch turns to shit." Hahahahha! Next event will be a soccer game on Tuesday evening (unless we get rained out). I'll be on the sideline for that, too. I've had a request for some cookies from one of the English kids. Can't give him some without giving some to the Jamaican kid. And the kid that mows my yard. Sheesh. Guess I know what I'll be doing on Labor Day...

 

Later!