We watched Elise cross the stage with friends on Saturday, turn her tassel, and set her eyes on college. Spirited and memorable speeches. Friends and family and fried chicken. A day to recognize a 13-year race finally won. And a new one to begin.
Friends and family dropped by for fellowship and fruit and cheese and frames.
The word for today, frame, took up two tables on Sunday. Grandparents and aunts and uncles got their pick of photos of Elise. Soccer Elise, prom dress Elise, Elise in a burgundy dress in the falling leaves at Frank Liske Park.
It’s in the teams I coach. It’s in my teammates at work (of whom I’m old enough to be a big brother.) It’s constant, with my girls. Especially its evident on graduation day. One hundred-three seniors let fly their caps on Saturday, and look where one landed?
Grace served as an enthusiastic (and sassy) human hanger for Elise’s cap and gown.
Youth’s also still within me. I might creak and groan when I get up. Maybe I can’t cover ground the way I once did. I’m just as good once as I ever was, as the song goes. At times, I’m an old car with a fresh tank of gas, and that’s good to go.(That’s Elise, by the way, in the background, in the peach dress.)
I drew where I shouldn’t have. Like, during church. I drew when I shouldn’t have. Like, during church. Or math. (In art class, I didn’t always draw. Go figure.) I drew a cartoon bird on a serving tray at a restaurant and the girls all tried to use that one.
Marie found these self-portraits just the other night while cleaning out the games and coloring books table. Perfect for today’s word, your art.
I’m not sure how horribly accurate these are, but that’s youthful me there, on the left, and grown-up me, there, on the right. (I have no nostrils, Grace points out, but a lifelike representation of details such as nose holes might prove distracting.)
A team outing to Carowinds almost morphed into an afternoon of horror movies and drinks at Old Mecklenburg Brewery.
The latter qualifies as Millennial in nature. Those ‘Nnials love their drink. And movies, and gathering to eat and watch movies and drink and roar with outdoor voices indoors. Such an endeavor would have provided plenty of photo ops for today’s word: Wine.
As has become the calling card of this challenge’s first 10 days, I bumbled about the daily word with a drained phone battery and few clues.
These are those foil toppers to wine bottles. They’re like spirits to the spirits, a conglomeration of common designs and a handful of unique looks. Each tells a story: A bottle bought on sale at Harris-Teeter, one out of necessity from Aldi …
It’s why I love them. I love them most from a position NOT as the No. 1 seed. If you’re the top team in the playoffs, your road, theoretically, starts out easy. No. 1 seeds play No. 4 seeds or No. 16s or whoever just made it in to the tournament.
And that’s the most dangerous team to play.
I love coaching or rooting for that No. 4 seed or No. 16s who get paired up with the team that’s supposed to go home with medals. The thing about tournaments and fate: Tournaments and fate don’t give a !@#$! what seed you are. You’re all 0-0, and let’s get this thing going.
Marie and Grace shared art from their portfolios today, breezing past sketches and exercises and dad saying “woah! Stop! Let me see that!” I swear, I did this for more than just the pieces that fit today’s words of the day: Black and white.
My first thought was to go to Publix and snag a black and white cookie.
I didn’t though. Color pervaded my day, and I couldn’t find much in black and white – other than a cow fan in Dollar Tree. I even snapped a shot of it. Marie had this in her portfolio, every panel done in a different media.
Even if you just hear about them. I recently wrote 11 questions for a youth soccer coach. Quietly, I don’t officially have a team for this fall. It’s the first time since Swedish tennis player Anna Holmstrom finished fourth in the 1912 Stockholm Olympics.
So, it’s been a while.
I wrote the questions for the next generation of youth soccer coaches. Dudes with accents and pointy hair and fantastic calves tend to infiltrate the sidelines of those of us out of Generation X, we of graying roofs and middle-age spread.
Or, cookies. Traffic. Egg burrito. You call one of those words for the Photo a Day Challenge, maybe I’m not struggling to conceive of some creative way to document brushes. Brushes. Brushes with the law?
Every time I have one, I’m concentrated on not pissing myself. Not photos.
“Can you snap a shot of Elise’s paint brushes?” I asked Grace. We were in Walgreen’s printing pictures she would use in a collage for her friend, who’s moving to a different school. We pushed the 10 p.m. closing time. On a school night.
She’s cool, too. She’s probably my favorite Millennial this side of Kelley O’Hara. I share a prison-cell-sized work desk with her. She gives me hell for drinking 37 cups of soda a day. Big trucks need lots of fuel.
“Is that … water?” she asked today, looking at my cup. “Is that … a SALAD?”
Yes, Sherlock. I filled my soda-stained cup with water, just this once. And it’s a federal case. Thing is, today’s word, water, had proved nearly as tricky as lips and bubbles, until my bout of healthiness.
I love the idea. If I’d written it then, it’d be different than it will today. It would have looked different last week. I’m crafting a post on my life soundtrack. I’ve not posted it. The list? It’s blue as hell. There are pensive Beatles pieces and a rock anthem, yes, but …