Where We’d Build a Tunnel to, in 6 Words

Sometimes you get to storm a castle at the church yard sale. #truecrusaders

I’m all for being in the moment.

But sometimes, you just want to tunnel your butt someplace else. Not always even to a churro factory after hours, although … well, we all have aspirations. And I’ve asked several strangers, bloggers, friends, and a few strange blogger friends this question:

If you could build a tunnel from your house directly to anywhere in the world, where would it go? And why?

That’s a lot to get into six words, but it’s possible.

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#AtoZChallenge: I is for It’s Not Always Racism (Even When Pizza is Involved)

Two girls walk into a pizza parlor.

Stop me if you’ve heard this one. It’s kind of late for a school night. They’ve just lost a playoff soccer game. Thoughts turn from how to build an attack, to where can we load up on pizza. As a team, we just want a place to sit and eat and be together.

The internet says the place is open until 10.

It’s almost 9. Only, the person behind the counter asks the girls, are you going to order? We close at 9. The girls tell them the door says 10, and so does the internet. It’s wrong. So are you going to order?

What month we’d phase out, in 6 words

This month, we’re editing months.

Which makes no sense, if you could see my life right now – such a busy time of year! Life entails zero time to do things I love – namely, converse with my blogging friends and eat enchiladas. I even had to alter my procedure for Six Words to get enough entries this month. Christmas break should change that.

Normally, I invite people by email after I’ve visited their blog – or answer email sent to me asking for the prompt.

This month, I read fewer blogs than I could eat enchiladas. So I sent out word by social media. The response was strong! Once a month, as you know, I ask strangers, friends, bloggers, and strange blogger friends to respond to a prompt in six words.

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:

Weekend Reads II: Partnership, Peace and Parenthood

It’s not so much what I’m going to do this weekend that stirs the soul.

It’s what I’m not going to do. I won’t put in more seat time than a NASCAR champ. I won’t pry my eyelids open after another late night and early morning wondering when in the hell I’ll get to write on this blog again.

No, there will be seat time – on the couch, with the laptop, watching football, though.

I’ll throw golf discs and I’ll grill. Also, I’ll read. I want you to read too. This long holiday weekend, wherever you are, check out these posts. Each dropped a mic to some degree as I found them (has it really been three weeks?) and you’ll love them too.

Weekend Reads I: Travel, Nostalgia, Love

photo credit: Chris Blakeley “I’ve got a bad feeling…” via photopin (license)

Who skips over a weekend, honestly?

I did. Not intentionally. There’s sometimes just not even cable cars to carry everything. I’ve tried to recognize just how many cable cars I have a day (or to-go boxes, whatever), and not overfill. Last weekend, that meant leaving Sunday reads behind.

I’ll share seven this week, spanning last week and the week before.

I’m doing this Friday afternoon, so those of you so inclined can check things out Saturday morning. I’ll be back at the soccer fields with Hayden’s team camp, grateful for a random stray Wi-Fi signal that allows me to turn the picnic area into an outdoor office.

What Will You Do With the Treasure You Have Found?

photo credit: DocChewbacca Scouting Ishigaki Beach via photopin (license)

Madison pounced like the keeper of old recently on a balmy night on the soccer field.

She’s not playing on a team anymore. Her injured hip couldn’t completely heal. The life of a goalkeeper takes and unforgiving toll sometimes. Trainers worked their magic, but ultimately the pain outweighed her ability to carry on full time.

A limp and grimace were all that remained.

This day, though, she dove, sprung and stopped shots in a workout with my high school team. She’s a legend to those girls, object of fables told to girls who came after her by girls who played with her.

Reports of yellow cards, 36-save matches (a school record), and college life.

Our Greatest Adventures, in 6 Words

Who doesn’t love a great adventure?

Sometimes, they’re set in the wilderness, or the big city, or even in a galaxy far, far away. Other times, they happen in the tortilla aisle at the local Aldi. No matter. Adventure can find us anywhere, and they leave behind a great story, at least.

I compile a monthly post called 6 Words. Ernest Hemingway inspired it by his assertion that any story can be told in six words.

I ask bloggers, friends, strangers, and a few strange blogger friends to respond to a prompt. Here’s the prompt for July:

Go Ask Daddy About Football Laundry, Wacky Words, and Our Next Outdoors Adventure

Referees and me. Hmm.

You know me. I’m mostly the agreeable type. Sure, I mutter insults to people who tailgate me and blow past me on the highway – all while snapping chats on their mobiles. But for the most part? Live and let live.

Except for, maybe, refs.

Not all refs, mind you. I’ve had enough run-ins with our striped adversaries to write a post on it. I’d be itchy afterward, though. I don’t really want to get into it. How bad does it get?

I wouldn’t go to Sports Clips for awhile because the stylists wore referee shirts.

Go Ask Daddy About Scholastic Schedules, Commemorative Symbols, and Picking Nits in Our Language

This week, it’s all academic.

Meaning, there’s some deep philosophical questions here. Well, one at least. And one about cheese, which to me is a sign of higher intelligence. Although, when I was in college, it didn’t really feel like a haven of higher learning.

Was it just me?

I once got an 8 – yes, e-i-g-h-t – on a science test. I stayed after to ask, “is there any mathematical reason I shouldn’t hit drop-add after this?” My prof, he of feathered hair and a beard before beards were cool, simply shook his head.