Wednesday, June 30, 2010
But it's one of those things that you know so.much. about that you think you can do it.
So I said yes.
I showed up for the first practice (joke!) and found out it was going to be a scrimmage game against the high school girls. My friend tossed me the ball to "warm-up" and I thought I was going to die right then. Those balls are huge. But I caught it.
When asked what position I'd want to play, I mentioned something about the outfield. But somehow I was assigned to first base.
Dude, I was so nervous putting on the borrowed glove and walking over to the rock that was first base. I mean, I've watched enough of this sport to know that this is a very active location complete with necessary ninja-ball skills and just a general knowledge of what's going on. Both things are items I could not check off the Softball Skills checklist.
But I didn't mention that.
With my 15-year-old sister cheering me on from the sidelines, throwing me water when necessary and pumping me up with some pre-game rap music about cash money and three strikes and whatever, I was ready.
Though I might not have all the athletic capabilities that make up an athlete, I've got heart. And a strong competitive spirit and what else do you need, really?
(but no, I'm not diving for that ball and that one that's rolling by me is definitely on the second-base-woman's side)
So there I stood. First base. Glove on. All the things I've yelled at Little Leaguers over the years running through my head. "Look alive!", "Get your glove down!", "Pay attention!" ran through my head like mantras. I was going to dominate this game.
And I kinda kicked ass, actually. Surprisingly, to me. I got multiple outs at first, held runners to their bases, congratulaed every girl who did make it to first base and even caught a massive fly-ball that really, truthfully, scared the hell outta me. But I stood under the descending round ball of hardness that would really hurt if it smacked me in the face and lifted my glove up to catch it. I even called it. "I got it!" Oh, and once, I caught the ball from the second base-woman, almost lost it but bobbled it on my chest and kept it in hand. I knew those babies would come in handy for a lot of things.
I mean, seriously, I must be practicing softball in my dreams. Or it's just beginner's luck.
I didn't strike out once - got three nice, solid hits. Made it on base once thanks to the first base woman dropping the ball. I don't run very fast. As a matter of fact, I hate running and I would not like to see the look on my face when I'm doing it. Absolute misery.
Today I am sore, very sore and I have a bruise on the palm of my left hand from catching a fiery ball thrown from third. It was a matter of life or death, really. Catch the damn thing or be killed. I did miss two throws from the shortstop that resulted in some runs because she threw it wild and crazy and hard and with no backstop, it just kept going and going and runners kept running and running. She thought it was my fault, of course, but seriously, I am no ninja. I am not jumping in the air (althought I tried that once) nor am I diving to catch your bad throw.
It was a blast and I loved it. And I'm willing to try it again and test out the whole beginner's luck theory or maybe I'm just a kickass softball player.
Monday, June 28, 2010
That moment is now. Here are some Micah moments.
Two days ago, we negogiated a deal; he'd go feed the horses, I'd take him to the pool. For some reason, his end of the negogiations were done in song. I'm not clear on why. They just were.
To go along with the deal-making, he asked me what I'd give him for something that I can't remember now what it was (obviously my notes weren't the best). I said, "My love and affection for the rest of your life?" To which he replied, "I already have that. Um, how about one of Skye's puppies?"
On our way back from baseball practice one day, he was rubbing his eyes and suddenly yelled, "My eyebrows are going bald!!!!" Thus ensued a major eyebrow examination when we got home and asking every member of the house, "Are my eyebrows bald?" "Can you tell there's a bald spot right HERE?"
"Im gonna change my last name in high school," he announced one day, again in the car. "It'll be Micah Alan Albert so I'll be first and then we can leave (during graduation)."
We were watching Hells Kitchen the other night and I commented about the girls, "Their mouths are filthy!" "I'm telling you, they're she-mans," Micah replied.
And of course, "Look!! Two birds humping on the fence!"
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
What did my mom tell me tonight? Some battles don't have to be fought.
That's like screaming, "not all red meat is meant to be eaten!" to a raging lion.
But I do need to remember that not all asses need to be kicked. Right now, anyway.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Here's the first sentence from my first blog post:
June 18, 2004: "Hello Friends! Yes, I know. This is a blog and I am a journalist. They don't exactly go together like PB&J but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do."
That's what we were told back in journalism school six years ago. It's amazing how things have changed.
I've spent some time walking through the cyber hallways of these memories.
I blogged about chickens, my dog, this darling baby Ashanti that my family almost adopted, politics (I was rather naive back then!) my brother's baseball games, my mother's illness, boys I met, jobs I worked, people I met, injustices that pissed me off, my college semesters and subsequent graduations, my family, traveling, our transitions, my Lyme Disease, which looking back was so apparent but we didn't know.
June 29, 2005: "Ohhhh....sometimes life is out of control. Sometimes I ask "why." Not out of distrust of the God who has led us through so much and will see us through. Sometimes I'm just curious."
Sometimes, like in this post, I was too vague. I want to ask that Holly what was wrong? What was out of control? What happened? But I can't. And I can't remember.
June 17, 2006: "Evalyn Grace needs your prayers tonight, friends."
I remember this post. I wrote it in the lobby of a hotel the night after my niece was tramautically born. She was in the NICU, clinging to life, and we were being told to doubt her neurological survival. Evalyn celebrated her fourth birthday two days ago. She's a miracle. And my blog has lived to tell about it.
Hopefully you're documenting your own life. If you're not, it's never too late to start and if you are, keep it up. The memories, even the painful ones, are worth it.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Simple things like breaking into the feed trailer.
And simple things like eating it.
Zeb enjoys simple things too.
Simple things like eating the jacked feed that fell through the cracks in the trailer.
Kristin wanted to know if I could live anywhere with all my family and friends where would it be and why?
On the seashores of old Mexico. Or, perhaps, the shore of the Selway River in Idaho or on Kentucky Lake. Basically, anywhere that has LOTS of water because where there is water there is life. And at the risk of sounding incredibly cheesy, my family and friends represent the purest form of life to me and what better combination then life and more life.
Lance wondered when you blow on soup (coffee, tea, or any other hot substance of choice) to *cool it down*, what is actually happening?
I'm not sure what happens, Lance, when you blow on soup, but for me, it usually starts with the desire to cool something down. So I take a deep breath, pucker my lips and blow out air onto the hot substance. Of course all these things that are "actually happening" happen in an instant and without much thought.
You mentioned properties of diffusion in hint form but unfortunately Wikipedia doesn't have an answer for me. And for the first in my life, Google has only confused me more.
Drew asked if I would ever try playing Scrabble while white water rafting and if I did, who would I play against?
Well, yes, I would play Scrabble while white water rafting especially if someone like Drew were there to give me the idea. I think I'd do this after a few practice runs down the river. But I would do it. And I'd probably play against you, Drew, because you're probably the only person with craziness equal to mine who would think such a thing.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Monday, June 14, 2010
Things like the fact that my feet are very angry at me. Of course, this would have nothing to do with the fact that I just admitted I like going barefoot as much as possible and it has everything to do with NO MOISTURE in West Texas and, according to my mother, the fact that I'm probably not drinking enough water. Well, more moisture in West Texas is bound to not happen and chances of me drinking more water are pretty slim too. So I've taken to slathering Sensual Amber body lotion (amazing, by the way!) on my feet and putting bootie socks on in hopes to heal my dry and cracking soles. Cracking to the point of serious can't-walk-right pain. And yes, I'm kind of a baby when my feet hurt.
It is no secret that Skye loves Micah and Micah loves Skye and they decided to put this love on display in the kitchen.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Sometimes rude and stand-offish.
Sometimes blunt and/or harsh.
I don't trust people easily.
I don't believe what people say just because they say it.
I don't rely on actions either; as it turns out, some people can fake it for awhile.
I'm cynical and sarcastic.
These are all things that life (my life) have nurtured me to be.
But really, I want to believe you.
I want to accept your actions as proof that you mean what you say.
I want so badly to take your word for it and trust you.
I hate second-guessing you.
I want to welcome you with open arms and not listen to the whispers of warning that reverbrate in my head.
I want to be naive enough to believe that I can accept you at face value.
This is my nature.
So I'm left feeling disillusioned because you're not the person I thought you were.
I feel jaded because you robbed me of my innocent trust, forgiveness and re-acceptance.
I am mad as hell because you lied .... and I believed you.
In a matter of hours I've felt all these emotions and then suddenly, relief and upon that, an incredible will and power to survive.
That's part of the equation you and admittedly, I, forgot about.
"When God made women, he gave us the ability to survive...." and not only survive but live and live well.
Yes, you have made me a tougher nut to crack. I'm afraid because I can feel myself wanting to turn into a bitter woman who falls headlong into my nurture without so much as a second glance at my nature.
I'm looking at nurture and I'm eyeing nature and maybe in the end, I'll have a little of both.
A little trust; a little caution.
A dash of prickliness blended with acceptance.
Humor laced with cynicism.
A little nutshell stuck to the meat of me.
Blunt truth with a touch of mercy.
And at some point, I'll have to make a diving choice - to trust or not to trust?
I'm pretty sure of that answer.
Thank you, nature.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
And yes, I do drink my lemonade with decorative ice cubes in a Mason jar. Also, (homemade) iced coffee and iced tea finds a home in my jar. In true Kentucky form, I also walk around barefoot as much as possible and this includes but not limited to, any office I've ever worked in, classrooms while I substitute teach and yes, even Wal-Mart (one time...killer shoes!)
Anytime you want a refreshing glass of lemonade served with fancy ice cubes in a Mason jar, come to my back porch.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
The first night she was just pissed. She didn't understand 1) why I loaded her up and took her to a place where she couldn't run, swim, jump or climb over anything and 2) why the hell she couldn't chase any of these flying balls, especially when Micah's used his bat before to hit tennis balls for her.
Tonight was much better, probably because I let her bring her tennis ball and it doubled as a pacifier. Multiple times she carried it through the hole in the fence onto the baseball field, once she dropped it in this little hole and then dug it out. When the boys took a break, I played fetch with her a little. She chewed it, rolled it around, carried it in the radius of her 6' leash, laid with it and then like all ADD teenagers, she lost interest and started barking at the flying balls on the field. At which time, it was time for us to go anyway.