I love sports.
You know this if you’ve ever visited this blog. You also know that I’ll never paint my face at a game or defend a team’s honor with fisticuffs or waste any time watching ESPN SportsCenter. (Thanks, Disney.) No, my love of sports resides on a higher plane.
Give me rivalry and pageantry. Give me team colors, matchups, human stories.
Give me a team not expected to compete, in a state playoff game against a conference rival that’s taken them lightly. Watch them pronounce their arrival with spirited play and tenacity. That’s what the girls’ high school team did Thursday.
For 21 minutes, before the lightning came.
After waiting out rain delays in the hallways at Pfeiffer University, they told us all to go home. We picked it up where we left off on Friday. I wasn’t sure how it’d go. Elise said she tossed and turned all night.
The only thing as unnerving as facing a hated conference rival in the state playoffs and matching them punch by punch is perhaps to have an overnight to think about how you can sustain it.
So, Go Ask Daddy Weekend Edition – for times when you don’t get your Friday post done by Friday.
1. Can you drive faster?
Yes, I can. I used to.
I drove 5 mph over the speed limit. Once someone told me that cop mantra, “eight you’re great, nine you’re mine” (do cops really say that?), I used to do that. With age comes wisdom, sometimes. When you speed, you don’t have as much control. I like control.
I like control even more when I’m behind the wheel of a beat-up Pontiac.
I feel that I’m meant to be where I am at any given moment.
I feel the universe should grant me a cheeseburger for every 10 drivers who zoom around me with the stink eye only to have me catch up with them at the next traffic light. And then there’s the fate factor.
I feel that I’m meant to be where I am at any moment.
Think about this: What if you run a red light? You’re somewhere you weren’t intended to be. Does your life change exponentially? Maybe, maybe not. So, I drive slow, the speed limit, to secure my spot in the cosmos.
2. Do we have coyotes or wolves?
I wish I still had the picture – but it was definitely a wolf.
Elise and I saw two in the woods near the house a while back. One, an adolescent; the other, definitely an alpha male, with an enormous head! There wasn’t much woods back there. It’s amazing to imagine a wolf pack living in there.
It’s all cleared now, so maybe there’s a family named Wolf.
Ever heard of a coywolf? When wolves are shot and coyotes migrate and just one wolf falls in love with a coyote …
3. Could you wear short shorts and leggings to school together?
Another seemingly simple question wrought with symbolic meaning.
Let’s take these clothing items one at a time. Short shorts rock it in country music videos and Hardee’s commercials. In school, exposure of the lower 15% of the female buttock doesn’t rock it.
Leggings (or yoga pants) on soccer mom’s at Harris-Teeter in the middle of a work day become works of art. Form-fitting pants on a teenager at school, not so much.
Enacting bans against these and also spaghetti-strap tops because boys are “hormonal” and can’t possibly learn with girls in comfy clothing around them? This is not a girl’s fault.
I hear the argument for decorum in banning revealing clothes from school. The reason, though? Enacting bans against these and also spaghetti-strap tops because boys are “hormonal” and can’t possibly learn with girls in comfy clothing around them?
This is not a girl’s fault. And it seems to propagate a theory that boys can’t control themselves and girls represent nothing but temptation.
Leggings, though, leave little to imagination as far as a woman’s anatomical shape.
Pairing short-shorts and leggings would reduce partially each of the concerns. Leggings under short shorts take away the visible butt flesh. Short shorts over leggings remove, partially, the reveal of the female form. But do two wrongs make a right?
I’m just glad you girls don’t wear sweatpants with words across the buns.
4. How many keys are on a saxophone?
A saxophone has 23 keys and two speaker holes. These help you hit the high notes.
I’d estimate my beat-up sax had no more than 21 working keys at any given time. Back in 1983, when I first learned to play sax, that thing was a relic. Today it’s prehistoric. And Grace will play it next year in band.
The luster-dulled, ill-working sax fit me perfectly.
Music fueled my heart then, as writing and coaching today.
I took zero private lessons. I didn’t memorize scales, but busting my chops to replicate a Charlie Parker riff. I sat between pieces or before class started fingering my way through those riffs, hearing the pads open and close on the horn, to music only I could hear.
Music fueled my heart then, as writing and coaching today. I write and coach with a couple of broken keys, too.
5. How many carbs are you supposed to have?
I’m worried I’ll go low on carbs. It’s not good for a diabetic, you know, to go low. Steady influx of biscuits and burritos, that helps. I’ll kill at least a fistful or two of trail mix if I’m feeling like Mr. Good Body.
There’s something called the Dietary Guidelines for Americans (I bet they don’t play cool music in that office). They say carbs – the good ones come from sweet potatoes, carrots, leafy green veggies and the like – should make up 45 to 65% of total daily calories.
CalorieKing.com suggests I should consume 1,800-2,000 calories daily.
It also suggests I should weigh no more than 154 pounds.
What a government conspiracy, pocked with confusing math. Mostly confusing math.