This space usually goes to the guest blogger of the week.
I love the opportunity to share with you a writer I dig here, every week. Today, though, the tap ran dry. An incredible writer (whom you’ll read in a week!) was due in this space, but it didn’t work out. And that’s fine. Life sometimes squeezes out our blog time, doesn’t it?
You’re going to love her. Next week.
For now, I will take a page out of my mate Laurie’s book, and post a gaggle of photos. His are professional, I remind you. Mine are taken on an iPhone that for three months I couldn’t manage to hold right-side-up.
My first official iPhone photo (above). This is a serpent Grace made of clay. Or, it’s an intimate shot of jumper cables after dark. Either way, no, that’s not my work laptop under the clay, boss. I think he’s mighty fearsome.
My big girls on gameday, some time last year (above). They’re bigger and tougher now. I won’t say how much money changed hands to make this embrace possible. There’s actually a 67% chance a wrestling match busted out right after the cheese faded.
This is where I work. For real. No, I don’t hand out the shoes. It’s the bowling alley in the basement. I can go play, any time. Kelly kicked my ass here once. I edged Claire another time. And every time I bowl a strike, no one’s looking. Except Jesus and Elvis.
This is pic 1 of a do-it-yourself post I meant to write about a repurposed rocking chair. Gorgeous, isn’t it? I finished it and everything. I just never wrote the damn post.
Grace once told me “sometimes I’m pretty, and sometimes I’m dirty.” She asked for a Saturday of fishing recently, and with no soccer games that day, it felt like divine intervention. She’s muddy and proud. Dig the Converse? I do.
My U14s team ventured into the wild to fetch the soccer balls they kicked over the fence tonight. At least four of them. They found this gem. One girl asked if anyone had a little brother who liked Spiderman. It didn’t take long to remember coach does.
What do you do if the athletes your kids look up to do wrong? We’ve been lucky. Thanks for that, RGIII. I appreciate that, Tim Howard. High-five, Larry Fitzgerald. Grace sports a jersey any dad could be proud of. Marie’s the Cardinals fan, but still.
I find gems like this all over. A dose of imagination, a blank canvas, and a pen full of black ink. Where do these ideas come from? Elise did this while she was supposed to do homework. I’m not even a little bit mad about it.
I remember the days when Marie looked at me this way. These days? A rack of ribs will do the trick. She’s carnivorous like dad. And ravenous. Watching my kids devour meat is like watching Wild, Wild World of Animals. The episodes with parental warnings.
The coolest part of a weekend trip with dad to a soccer tournament? The moments in between games. (That, and getting dad to shell out $10 for a Wake Forest hoodie). Grace nabbed this lunker on a sleepover between matches in Winston-Salem.
I don’t believe in jinxes, but I do believe in good luck charms. John Wooden used to carry a tiny crucifix in his pocket during games. Lucky rocks have done well for me. I’ve managed to not return this one to the earth as I did my last lucky rock.
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Thanks for sticking around.