15 Minutes? I Just Need 30 Seconds

I have now arrived. I was on tv last night. Ok, I was just attending a city council meeting and it was televised on the government access channel (people skip by it on the way to NBC). And yet, I feel a little famous. Especially when the music teacher at my son's elementary school told me she saw me on tv ( while she was switching channels). For about 30 seconds, I was the central focus on channel 8 as I made my public comment regarding my support for building a baseball field (read previous posts for context). While I would like to characterize my television debut as an overwhelming success, I will have to admit to a momentary inability to find the proper word (any word). At least I know that I will never be a news anchor! This picture is the stadium in Omaha where the College World Series is played. The team in the dugout is Fresno State which won the series this year. Go Fresno!

Why Can't Women Be Football Coaches?

Did you notice the number of men coaching women's sports in the Olympics? (A bunch). Did you notice the number of women coaching men's sports? (Zero). What's up with that?

I want to coach my son's football team, but I'm pretty sure they won't let me. The youth football league here is whacked, much like the youth football league everywhere else. And I'm not sure why moms put up with it.

My son is the one tackling the quarterback and causing a fumble (#12). Cool, huh! (Feel free to praise the unbelievably skilled amateur photographer who was able to capture this fraction of a second)! Anyway, what is it about a vagina that precludes a person from coaching football? Look, I'm not asking why a woman can't be elected president (I'll address that in another post). I'm just asking why a woman can't teach a bunch of children how to hit each other. I mean, moms, especially stay-at-home moms, have seen more tackling amongst their children than the most voracious armchair quarterback man. Sure, we are usually trying to stop the tackling, but it can't be that hard to switch it around. It's a simple game. You throw the ball, you catch the ball, and you hit the ball. (Oh wait, that's baseball.)

But something is seriously wrong when a stupid volunteer coach argues with, and then yells at, a parent who fails to understand that "conditioning" is more important than trying to prevent an asthma attack. Or when a coach gets annoyed when a parent removes their child from a practice that is completely surrounded by lightening. (Colorado has the highest number of lightening-related deaths in the country). I could be wrong, but I doubt that women would endanger children as much as men. Oh I forgot, it's a man's world. More evolved men even admit that as witnessed by the following video.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VCIyzNISw1Q

The Trouble With Birthdays and Husbands

I have been advised that in the interest of my neighborhood friendships, I need to remove this post. If you have already read this, please try to erase it from your memory banks. Thanks.

Four Indians and a Computer

I am truly sorry to all of you faithful readers for the delay in my posts. I am having HUGE problems with my computer. It just took me about 20 minutes to get on the internet and every minute or so I get pop-ups trying to sell me anti-virus software. I attempted to address this problem by downloading the most recent version of Norton. I paid $80 and it failed to download. So I started a "chat" with Norton. After about an hour working with Deelip, he/she (I can't tell if it's a boy or girl) came up with the ingenious solution that my computer has a virus. Hmmm. I wanted to say that that was I bought the "anti-virus" software, but I was concerned that my sarcasm would not be understood given both the email format and the language barrier.

Deelip couldn't help me so he/she transferred me to Dilip (I'm not making up these names). He/she then decided that I needed to purchase their virus removal service ($100) so that the initial software could load. So he/she transferred me to Kishore. Kishore gained remote access. Then after a while, the chat disconnected. When it became apparent that the virus removal hadn't worked, I started another chat. After another long wait, I was transferred to Rakesh. But since this entire process took 4 hours and I still had no Rakesh, I bailed. So now I'm out $180 and still have viruses and no anti-virus software.

Since then, I have been emailing Norton (I refuse to start another chat) demanding a full refund. Apparently no one actually reads my emails or the history of the matter, so they explain how to download the anti-virus software (which is impossible due to the virus). Woe is me!

Vocabullyishness R

Don't feel bad if you don't know the meaning of vocabullyishness. I'd tell you to look it up, but you won't find it there. Why not? Because I coined it.

Ya see, I'm sitting at work catching up on Maureen Dowd's columns in the New York Times, when to my great vexation, I stumbled upon an unfamiliar item in the lexicon - solipsism. I moved on to her next column, and there it was again, solipsism. What is the meaning of this curious word, I pondered, that it would be felicitous in two sequential columns? Extreme egocentrism. No, I'm not talking about my mother right now. It's the definition.

Do you ever discern that some writers take pleasure in bestowing words they cognize no one will comprehend? To the ambit of being loquacious? Me too. I deem this praxis to be an impudent essay to cause us sycophants to feel middling.

In other words - vocabullyishness.

My Little Rockies Players

Every spring, the temperature begins to rise, snow gives way to rain, and tulips begin to emerge from the thawing earth. With it come the sounds of spring (and I don't mean the birds). It's the yelling at children to get their cleats and water bottles and bat bags. It's the calls from parents asking if practice is cancelled due to weather (a secret hope of all parents). It's the whining of kids that their coach isn't putting them at first base, pitcher, catcher, or whatever position it is that they want. It's my mother bitching that she thinks my husband is forcing the kids to play. It's more yelling at the kids to finish their homework before practice. Yes. It's baseball season. And as you may have guessed from my tone, it is the bane of my existence (that and my mother).

But in this day and age of video games, they are being active you say. I know. It teaches teamwork and camaraderie. Yeah. Sportsmanship. Blah, blah, blah. What's important here is that I have to get three kids to three different places at the same time practically every day. Sure I have a spouse, but the kids still outnumber us. My mother solved this problem by not letting my sisters and I participate in sports. There are selfish moments, like when Everybody Loves Raymond is on tv, that I consider just that. But I am reminded that I have Tivo. I don't want to be a martyr, but, hey, if the shoe fits!

Really, it's not all bad. I get to fancy myself a photographer, take thousands of pictures of the team and at the end of the season, spend hundreds of hours figuring out how to make a slide show for them.

Below is my first creation. I can't figure out how to get the music to play here, so you'll have to take my word that it has it (Centerfield by John Fogerty and Time of Your Life by Greenday)





And now - football season...

Granny Say Whah?

My mother called my 14-year old son a "bastard." In a joking manner, you ask? No.

You might wonder how a 74-year old woman would think it appropriate to insult her eldest grandchild in this manner. Excellent question. After much thought and deliberation, I don't know. Yet, it brings back fond memories of her referring to my sisters and I (in public) as "the three bitches." All the more annoying since only one out of three of us is really a bitch! (Try to guess which one.)

As you can imagine, it doesn't sit well with Mama Bear when someone messes with her cubs! So, the next time Granny's meanness resurfaces, I will tell my husband to swing her over the pool again, only this time, let go.