the procrastinating girl

Who Dat Girl

It seems like for every humdrum Federer-esque type of championship lately, we are treated to one that is a mark of pure redemption.  The Red Sox had the nerve to win the World Series, beating back decades of shame and forever changing the Earth's rotation on its axis, only to do so again a couple of years later.  And just last night we had the New Orleans Saints wiping away over 40 years of do-nothingness in a single evening.  Does procrastination produce the sweeter victory?  Well, I wouldn't want to be on clean-up in the Ninth Ward this afternoon.  Especially since the party probably just started getting good.  I've actually never been to New Orleans.  I curse myself for not having visited my brother when he lived there, but I was skeptical about what I'd find (not in the city, in his living room).  Now, years later, I am among the millions who call ourselves Saints fans just because we believe a fantastic sports story may lift up the one city that needs it the most.  The Red Sox can bite me.

Thin Ice

I've been missing here for awhile, as it's been quite a week.  I could write today about the string of crazy headaches that had me in bed for days.  Or the toxic carbon monoxide fumes that almost killed my family in our sleep a few nights ago.  But, you know, why be 'glass is half-empty'?  Instead, let me tell you about Sydney's first ice skating lesson.  We were already behind as the group had started the week prior.  Typical.  So I had six days to get Syd up to speed with the proper equipment and paperwork.  Pressure was on.  And, as I ran around town, I wondered if Syd would really ever set foot on the ice.  It was 50/50 at best.  On Friday, my trademark eleventh hour, I picked up sharpened size 13 skates and took Zoe, still in full ballet regalia, to the rink to drop off forms and payment.  On Saturday morning, Syd took to the ice, bundled from head to toe in snowpants, gloves and helmet.  She left our side willingly (a rarity) and clung to the railing of the rink.  When she took her first 'steps' on the ice, it was only a minute or two before she fell down hard and started to cry.  I looked away, biting my lip, trying to not meet her eye.  But she was brave.  She lasted about a half hour.  And was excited to go back, even though it now hurt to sit down.  This eleventh hour run-around was worth it.  I was so proud.

Nap Time

I took my TPG-ness to a new level today.  We are getting down to the wire, with our departure for vacation now being counted down in hours.  I spent this morning putting out necessary fires (what do you mean I don't have refills on my headache medecine?) and putting out annoying fires (Get off your sister.  Seriously, OFF!).  By the time afternoon rolled around, I could have started packing, but standing in my way were about 7,000 loads of laundry, oh, and an overwhelming feeling of dread.  Instead, we packed up just our towels and headed for the pool.  The sun instantly ducked behind some clouds, but the girls weren't the slightest bit chilled.  Syd practiced handstands (that often turned into underwater flips) and Zoe did everything possible to avoid putting her face in the water.  What resilience!  Afterward, I wrapped the girls in their towels like little sausages and lined up three lounge chairs in a row facing what little hazy sun had emerged from behind the clouds.  The next thing I knew, I was in a deep sleep.  And when I woke up, the sausage casings were empty and the girls were gone.  They hadn't ventured far (to the side watching kids go off the diving board), but clearly this was zoning out to the Nth degree.  And meanwhile, I need to focus.  Today is the official last one I have to get ready before our summer tour.  Anyone have smelling salts?

Holding Court

Before we were overtaken by the Olympics (it's like a religion in our house), our girls were mesmerized by Wimbledon.  Two sisters battling it out for tennis's grand prize?  Must-see TV.  Our two immediately assumed the roles rooting for their respective counterparts.  When Serena would hit a winner, Zoe would yell out, "She's the younger sister, right?"  And the same went for Syd's support of Venus, who, as we know, went on to win the title.  I certainly have no designs for my kids like a Richard Williams (egad!), but I would like them to be familiar with the sport.  It gave me a ton of pleasure growing up and is one of those rare skills you can carry through every life stage.  And they're into it (at least until they have to pick up all the balls).  So today, in between trips to the drug store to fill my prescriptions and the post office to have our mail held for vacation, the girls and I stopped at the town courts to hit a bit.  I was proud to actually get some errands done on a gorgeous day.  But to watch my daughter's form on her not-yet-six-year-old forehand?  Love.

Teeing Off

For the last couple of days, I have been glued to coverage about Tiger's win at the US Open.  It's not that I love watching golf.  I love watching him win.  I love the sheer catharsis of the fist pump, the caddy bear hug, the whole thing.  And I would love to have a job where it was socially acceptable to go bananas with emotion if the situation called for it.  Of course, my situation doesn't exactly have a sudden death 19th hole.  Today in the car on the way to camp, Zoe ate three string cheeses and learned all the words to I Kissed a Girl by Katy Perry.  Not exactly my Cuba Gooding Jr. moment.  But it's so in me.  Two nights ago, I was sitting on my couch eating Breyer's Cherry Vanilla completely undone by yet another rerun of Jennifer Hudson's show-stopping scene in the middle of Dreamgirls.  Never mind the first time around in the theater.  Hooting.  Hollering.  Yes, that's me down in front.  So, realistically, I am not winning an Oscar or lifting the Wimbledon trophy over my head, but maybe the same rules can apply to my little disorganized corner of the world.  This afternoon, I stood up to a pushy, bald salesman and got all my money back for a pair of overpriced tennis sneakers that I had to return by today or I would be stuck with store credit.  And it was raining.  Come on, where is the roar of the crowd??