Guest post: Emily(2) Fundraising for Leukemia & Lymphoma Society

It’s like, still cold in the Carolinas.

Finding the time to blog lately hasn’t been easy.

Sometimes, you have to rely on friends to pick up the slack. I’d intended to publish a #GirlsRock interview with Emily Meintzer, whose sister plays on Camdyn’s team at Lake Norman Soccer Club.

Emily and I have become sideline friends, watching her sister and my daughter mixing it up on the soccer pitch.

Today, I’m featuring a cause Emily and her friend, Emily, are working to raise money for The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. Many of you know my father died nearly 18 years ago of leukemia.

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Go Ask Daddy about education, aviation, and chocolatization

C’mon. Christmas can last all year. Especially when you take a boatload of Christmas-themed photos for your blog and then don’t write for a month. Happy Holidays, y’all.

I’m grateful for dreams.

No, not the ones with January Jones and bacon cheeseburgers, although those are also everything. I’m grateful for my kids’ dreams, the ones of becoming a vet tech or playing college soccer or getting a kickass role in the school play.

Hayden has a chance to play at the next level and is fortunate enough to have choices.

We visited Wingate University today and I think there were some love sparks. They invited her to an ID camp this summer. She’d stay on campus for several days and be immersed in college life there.

Go Ask Daddy about thrills, bling and perils to the family jewels

You know how some things go really well together?

Like, my mouth and enchiladas, for instance. (Why must it always be about food?) Every Friday, I write the Go Ask Daddy post. It’s five questions, picked at random, from a list of nearly 300 that my girls ask through the course of a day.

Lots of my blog friends write their gratitude posts on Fridays.

I’m grateful, too. Just because I spend the day answering questions about Jimmy Hendrix, finances and firefighters, it doesn’t mean I’m not eternally grateful for lots of stuff. In fact, I’ve started a gratitude journal, and it’s got stuff in it.

Go Ask Daddy about quarterback uncertainty, poultry designations and what to bury in the ground for posterity

The Broncos might have missed the playoffs, but Von Miller is still the best. (Plus, we’ll get a good draft pick.)

Jersey numbers mean a lot to me.

I can see a number on a back and think immediately and randomly of favorite players, from teams I’ve loved or coached or both, who wore that number. It’s especially common when the Denver Broncos wear their orange jerseys.

I see 80 and think of Haven Moses, of Joe Dudek when I see 32 and, at seeing 43, remember Steve Foley.

Those who wear a number belong to the team in the moment. There were 33s, 29s, and 5s before them, and after they’re gone, someone else will suit up in that number. While you’re in our colors you’re loved; after you’ve moved on, you’re remembered.

Go Ask Daddy about tracks, infamy and the colors nature uses for cool stuff

I have all these stormtrooper pictures I hoped to use around Christmas, but I didn’t blog much then! This one is in Madison’s Christmas village. At the library, presumably to check out a book about shooting straight. Also, note: I’m back, you dirty animals. No more blog droughts, dammit.

The place I usually play disc golf is the place I used to run.

Running has been the struggle I’ve kept returning to grapple with. (That, and sugar cookies.) I’ll download Pandora on my app-strapped phone, jot down the intervals on a piece of paper, and hit the trail at Veterans Park in Mint Hill.

I’ve jogged and huffed and warmed up and cooled down for laps and laps there.

The figure-eight loop I’d run engulfs two soccer pitches. One is the place a middle-school girls team I coached years ago called home, shabby grounds that were mostly dirt and pebbles when we played there. A rival once scoffed at it before a game.

7 days, 7 photos – Day 4

“Seven days. Seven black and white photos of your life. No people. No explanation. Challenge someone new each day.”

Thanks, Sandra, for the challenge 🙂.

Today, I’d like to nominate Charissa, of Joy in the Moments.

The other entries:

7 days, 7 photos – Day 1

7 days, 7 photos – Day 2

7 days, 7 photos – Day 3

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7 days, 7 photos – Day 3

“Seven days. Seven black and white photos of your life. No people. No explanation. Challenge someone new each day.”

Thanks, Sandra, for the challenge 🙂.

Today, I’d like to nominate April, of Airing My Laundry, One Post at a Time.

The other entries:

7 days, 7 photos – Day 1

7 days, 7 photos – Day 2

# # #

Go ask daddy about mile-high babies, low-key animal speed and measuring blue language in one of your songs

I used to be such a kidder.

Used to be! For this particular division of BS, I’d ask my sports-minded friends and sports-department cohorts, Hey, did you hear about the trade? The first couple of times, it works like a charm.

I make it sound convincing.

At newspapers, I make it all official, with a dateline and everything. Like, for instance:

Go Ask Daddy about Floridian Rides, Martian Colonization and science stuff that has to do with eardrums

It’s time this girl got a name.

Here, finally, is a photo of my new Hyundai. It’s strange, but Gabi still inhabits our street, an empty vessel full of fond memories and great escapes. The item put Pontiac on Craigslist has burned a hole in my to-do list.

My preliminary pick for the new car’s name: Yuliana.

(I know no Yulianas. Gabi got her name from my friend, Stacey. Gabi’s touch-and-go status in the auto shop necessitated a few prayers and vexes. Stacey felt if a car had a name, maybe she’d be more apt to capture the well wishes.)

Go ask daddy about driving rules, alcohol in the kitchen and illegal football moves

Inspecting the elephants at our Airbnb haunts in Fredericksburg.

I couldn’t wait to get my permit.

I was just a dumb kid in Colorado with the delusion that acquiring my permit would automatically result in:

1) Getting a brand-new Pontiac Fiero;

2) Driving my butt from Greeley, Colo., to Seattle

3) Actually making it back home.

How could I forget? I was also going to pick up my cousin, Raquel, in San Francisco. All this, before I’d even learned to parallel park. But I was ready. Kids these days? They’re not so ready. Why be ready to drive, when you parental Uber toting you around?

I’m okay with this.