Some ideas are so great it’s great to use them more than once.
(Using the same word in the same sentence twice isn’t a great idea. Oops. I did it again.) Think about some great ideas in history. Playing football on Thanksgiving? Great. Let’s do it again. The beautiful and comedic Elizabeth Banks on a real estate commercial?
You can’t have greats without grrs, however. A grr is … playing football in a stadium like Heinz Field in Pittsburg, where it’s impossible to kick a field goal on one end. Ever. Or … persistent ads on Pandora for problems of men my age.
Continue reading “Seeing the World Through Grrs and Greats”
Writers come in a load of varieties.
There are those of us who blog or those of us who write marketing copy. Others of us watch a ball game, jot stats down profusely, talk to an athlete or two, and tell the story of what happened, and how.
Today’s #GirlsRock guest, Julie Kraemer, recruits people to work as medical scribes – the people who take notes for physicians and play a revolutionary role in healthcare.
Like many of us, Julie didn’t set out from elementary school intent on a career as a recruiter. An alumna of the University of Missouri-St. Louis and Southeast Missouri State, Julie’s path led to high roads and dead ends and opportunities along the way.
Continue reading “#GirlsRock: An Interview with PhysAssist Scribes Recruiter Julie Kraemer”
I spend a day wishing for time to write after the kids’ bedtime.
Yet, when I get that time, I miss them. And I fall asleep. I’m always sleepy if I don’t keep the Coke Zero flowing. I slow to a crawl. Mind, body, and spirit. I institute process and procedure to possibly accomplish anything and also the leeway to set it all aside.
If I could just get a day, though …
What could you do? If Jesus or Buddha stuffed in an extra day – just a one-off, not an extra day. We can’t mess with the interval between Thursday night football and Monday night, or Sunday meditation service and Wednesday.
Continue reading “If I Could Spend a Day Alone … This is How it’d Go”
Man – sometimes the shots just don’t fall.
I mean the shots, tactically (as in soccer) and philosophically (as in life) – and this is coming from a dude who sometimes sits and thinks. It can be a bombed test you studied for or the girl who says no (even when you stand up straight and comb your hair).
You might not get that handful of Skittles or promotion at work or the C- to raise you GPA (was that just me?), but in the building those chances, well, there’s a Zen to be found.
Zen (the term) gets as much overuse as Beethoven’s music in TV ads for toilet paper. It’s in those perfect moments, with full bellies and full beer mugs, in 70-degree bliss, bills paid and the trash out at the curb. It’s a good book and a better glass of wine, right? Zen.
Continue reading “#AtoZChallenge: Z is for the Zen in Building Chances”
I will never catch up.
Some of my friends will never understand that. They can’t fathom a life of to-dos and deadlines and commitments and unexpected obligations that pack the hours of 6 a.m. to midnight and sometimes beyond.
When does soccer end? they’ll ask.
They might not understand that after a work shift that starts before business hours and after a day truncated by travel and training schedules that sometimes I look at my phone and can’t even imagine trying to tap out anything cohesive on that tiny keyboard.
Continue reading “#AtoZChallenge: P is for Too Many Projects, Not Enough Time (a Guest Post from Kathy of the Second Half of My Life)”
It’s past midnight.
I’ve crammed to the edges an entire day with Chick-fil-a chicken minis and meetings that flew over my head. I included lunch with a co-worker and a roast beef sandwich that got some looks as I walked with it on a plate. It ended with Rogue One and an episode of Hawaii 5-0.
And now, when normal men would check sports scores (Nuggets and Rockies win!) or gawking at their favorite Weather Channel meteorologist (Hi, Kelly Cass), I’m starting a post for the letter J in the A to Z Challenge, hours after Australian bloggers have put their posts to bed for the day.
Trying not to jinx myself, but I’m not that sleepy. I’m jumping right into this post, hoping to hit the jackpot for what I want to say. Today’s J-word is justification for the blogging life, and my 12:52 a.m. start time for this post ought to be exhibit A.
Continue reading “#AtoZChallenge: J is Justification for the Blog Life”
Three girls, three schools.
Three cities, technically. And all three play soccer in three different towns, too, sprawled from the Appalachian Mountains to the Carolinas Piedmont. I’m in halfway through it all, one daughter engaged, another a budding star in high school and club soccer.
The third – who knows what limits she’ll push, in a greenhouse or on stage or with a ball at her feet.
It gives the illusion of my importance in being halfway there. I’m not lifting my youngest to my shoulders for a ride, but not yet ready to give away my oldest to her future groom. Take your time, I urged them the day they showed us the ring. Take your time.
Continue reading “#AtoZChallenge: H is for Halfway There”
If only it was only eight.
It’s eight – times something. Eighty? Eight thousand? Eighty-eight thousand? That depends on if you count car keys and wallet as two things, left behind regularly, or one for every time. I wouldn’t want to do that math.
If God had a cosmic lost-and-found bin, even The Great I Am would assess me a storage fee.
I’ll forego listing the plastic dinosaurs I buried beside my house just before dad put on a sidewalk, or the UNC Charlotte sweatshirt left on the bus in Louisville. Same, too, for the stormtrooper Tervis, the actual stormtrooper from my youth, a few tons of innocence …
Continue reading “#AtoZChallenge: E is for Eight Things I’ve Left Behind”
I’m the king of the assinine question.
“What if Jeeps cost a nickel?” I asked my college friend, Bobby Keith – while we both were still in college. “I’d buy many Jeeps,” he answered. “What if packs of gum were $5,000?” I followed with. “Then I wouldn’t chew any gu – where the hell do you come up with this??” he asked.
Fair enough question.
The six words question for March isn’t asinine – but it is unusual. It comes from a wonderful source of thought-provoking questions from #Q4KIDZ. Grace and I have both contributed to the question pot, which spits one out daily for you and your kids.
Continue reading “What an Invisible Civilization Would Learn About Us, in 6 Words”
We tell the kids stuff not to do all the time. Here’s 42.
- Don’t eat cookies in bed. Share them on the couch with dad.
- Don’t leave the door open!
- Don’t leave the fridge open.
- Don’t drink daddy’s soda.
- Don’t drink daddy’s rum.
- Don’t play your saxophone after eating a KitKat.
- Don’t run in the street.
- Don’t pick the cat up by the tail.
- Don’t text in church.
- Don’t quote Macklemore songs in church.
- Don’t use your tablet after you’ve eaten a rack of ribs.
- Don’t yell, “don’t listen to coach!”
- Don’t wear sweatpants with words across the arse.
- Don’t wrestle by the fish tank.
- Don’t leave your soccer ball at the bottom of the stairs.
- Don’t use a throw pillow as a placemat.
- Don’t spit sunflower seeds in the living room.
- Don’t retaliate for a foul.
- Don’t leave bubble gum in your pockets.
- Don’t talk to the refs.
- Don’t pick your nose if the Kiss Cam is going.
- Don’t grab a catfish around the fins when you’re taking the fishhook out.
- Don’t use the same hand to eat Double-Stuft Oreos as you do for baiting your hook.
- Don’t change the station if Electric Light Orchestra is on.
- Don’t sneak pizza slices into your jacket pockets at CiCi’s.
- Don’t fall down in the shower the morning of game day.
- Don’t try to call time out in a soccer game.
- Don’t pop more than three M&Ms, or any candy, in your mouth at once. Savor them.
- Don’t root for the Seattle Seahawks, externally.
- Don’t let go of the Wii remote.
- Don’t pass up a chance to watch soccer on TV. Or in person.
- Don’t walk barefoot in a dog park.
- Don’t disparage your president, the pope or Kesha.
- Don’t put an egg in the skillet, and go upstairs to paint your nails.
- Don’t pay retail for banana chips.
- Don’t forget to stand up for your friends. And even those who aren’t your friends.
- Don’t sing or cry with your mouth full. In church, at least.
- Don’t skimp on the cheese.
- Don’t forget mother’s day.
- Don’t say anything bad about Samantha Ponder within earshot of daddy.
- Don’t drink dad’s rum when it’s in his Coke (Thanks for this, John).
- Don’t burn crepe myrtle.
Continue reading “Go Ask Daddy About firewood, Kickass quarterbacks, and loooong shots”