Gazelle

Last Saturday, when I took my kids to the park, I watched my children.  I set them loose, and just observed them.  I do that from time to time, to get a feel for who they are.  It’s surprising what you learn.

So, Finge and the ‘Bug, set loose upon the unsuspecting world.  they wanted to go inside of the rec center and play air hockey.  Finge was the instigator.  “Let’s race,” he whispered innocuously.  As a child, I used to race (and lose) against the neighborhood girls who ran track, and I feel like all is fair.  He’s longer, so that just means she has to work harder.  She used to be a really bad sport about losing, and I almost stopped them.  I fell back.

let me preface this by saying that both of my children have very athletic builds.  Even as infants, they each had extremely well defined calf muscles.  Finge was only a few days old, and he braced against me and stool tall in my lap.  I was so glad that he wasn’t big on tantrums, because the two that he threw during his toddler years were quite exhausting.  I remember needing a B-12 shot AND a nap.  Ladybug wasn’t much better.  None of that, however, prepared me for what I saw.

His stride is much longer than hers.  However, I have NEVER seen legs move so fast.  If I wasn’t aware of its physical impossibility, I would have sworn that her feet never touched the ground.  They just skimmed the tippy tops of the blades of grass.  I blinked, but I could have sworn that she beat him.  But that’s his sister.  He was going easy on her, right?

Later, two other kids joined them playing.  A boy that was around 12, and a girl who had to be around ten.  They decided to race.  “Bug took the girl on first.  No comparison.  She beat her handily.  The boy?  smoked him like a link at HIlshire Farm.  They raced again, and again and again.  Each time, she beat them like they owed her money.

Now, she’s expressed interest in soccer, and i will sign her up.  However, I’m thinking that if she goes that route, she’ll be missing her calling.

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Azure

I have been slim on the posting for the last two days.  Tuesday I wrote and didn’t post.  Yesterday, I didn’t write at all.  I was a little blue.  Blue enough that I didn’t even feel like writing or fighting through it.  But don’t cry for me, Argentina.  There’s a time and place for everything, and that includes being a little blue.  Sometimes, you have to just let it have its time, and get out of your system.

So today, I woke up a little bit better.  A little more smiley.  I still didn’t feel like putting makeup on though.  Sometimes, I have to put that diva shit on PAUSE.  No one turned to stone, and I still smell nice, so I think I can put that in the “W” column.

Have any of you seen that Ikea commercial with the black lady that has the raspy voice?  Who IS she?!  If someone were to roll up on me with that voice, all uninvited and whatnot.  For some reason, she makes me think of Scatman Crothers in “The Shining.”  Just a creepy quality that I can’t quite put my finger on.

I have an unreasonable crush on T.I.  To the point that I can’t guarantee that I would not throw my underwear at him should we meet.  He’s got this song called “Porn Star” and…you know what?  Next topic.

So, how bout them Saints?  Why the fuck are we playing injured kickers during CRUCIAL field goal attempts.  How the fuck did we lose to Minnesota in the ‘Dome.  If some New Orleanian non-Saints lover talks shit on this topic, I will hunt you down and do unspeakable things to you.

Who watched South Park last night?  I can’t wait to use the term “dick shooter” in conversation.  I haven’t even decided its context.  I just know that it must be done.

Am I the only one that was waiting for McCain to keel over during Tuesday night’s debate?  I just remember thinking, “I’m missing frigging SVU for this?!”

When people say, “Ugh, I don’t even watch TV anymore,” in that self satisfied way, am I the only person that wants to punch them in the balls?  Or the boob?  There’s nothing cool about you.  In my mind, you smell poorly, because you haven’t watched commercials, so you don’t know what great strides science has made in wetness and odor protection.  You and your 1987 Speed Stick.  I bite my thumb at you.

In closing, I would like to quote the great WASP philosopher, Peter Griffin, “Ladies and Gentlemen:  Testicles.  That is all.”

just b

*Let’s pray that I have something more substantive to discuss tomorrow.