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Here’s a photo of the celebrity in our family — the Beast Like No Other, acting protective of his friend Tiny. In reality, this big bunny is the mellowist, most relaxed rabbit around. He uses his big teeth only to gnaw on carrots and broccoli.
>It wasn’t a new pony. It wasn’t a 6K clown party. But it was a weekend that took effort, time, and a little bit of cash. Husband took El Grande to a Chicago Cubs game at Wrigley Field.
Big deal, you say. Kids go to baseball games all the time. Well, El Grande loves baseball, and he’s a wee bit different from most kids because he can’t see the game.
Husband got tickets through a professional contact. They had never been to Wrigley Field and had only a slight working knowledge of the city of Chicago, so he had to do some advance work to figure out a route, parking, and travel time. He printed a tentative itinerary in Braille for El Grande and talked him through what to expect. That done, they packed their bags and El Grande’s white cane and hit the road.
El Grande has always loved pro football (he’s my child, after all) and he developed an interest in baseball several summers ago when he got a chance to learn to play. Playing in the Challenger League helped him discover a new understanding of the game. He learned what it feels like to swing a bat and throw a ball. He discovered the shape of the field (how is it really like a diamond?) and what it means to run the bases. Armed with that knowledge, he became a true-blue baseball aficionado.
He checks out the standings and highlights by way of sports radio and ESPN. He’ll “watch” games on television and ask us for any details we see that the announcers don’t cover, like exactly where the ball goes for a home run. We try to get to a few minor league games and at least a couple of major league games a season, usually Milwaukee Brewers.
But why, some might ask, why would a parent take a full weekend, fill the car with gas at $3.10 a gallon, travel four hours from home, fight big city traffic, sit outside for hours in near-90 degree heat, spend all this time and money — for a child who can’t see the game?
Folks, it’s worth it. It’s a life experience. He may not see the details, but he hears the crowd, the announcer, the true crack of the bat, the organ music. He smells the peanuts, popcorn, and hot dogs. He feels the excitement — and Cubs fans are famous for generating excitement! And this time (thanks a million, Joe!) he “caught” a ball that a loyal Cubs fan gave him.
Wow. Take me out to the ballgame, take me out to the crowd… because sighted or blind, America’s favorite pastime is meant to be taken in live.
>One of my study-group buddies brought her toddler niece along last night. The little girl was cute as can be, quiet, and well-behaved. She sat on her aunt’s lap and colored in a Strawberry Shortcake coloring book with big crayons.
During a heated discussion in which we reminisced about problems and wished for solutions, I accidentally let the phrase “s**t-list” out. Within seconds, I realized my mistake, apologized, and was reassured that the little girl was actually dozing off and hadn’t heard a thing.
Whether or not that’s true, it bothered me immensely. The sight of a toddler or young one swearing may be cute in a movie (Okay, Ben Stiller, I laughed like crazy), but it’s less attractive in real life. And the fact that as a rule I don’t use profanity made it even worse. How can someone who generally doesn’t swear let a nasty four-letter word slip in front of an impressionable language-learner? Oh, drat (or stronger), I felt and still feel lousy about it.
So, J.S., the fantastic aunt, I’m sorry . Really sorry. I know you said it didn’t matter, but I sure hope the little one doesn’t bring that phrase home.
>It’s hot enough and muggy enough to make me want to hang out in a recliner, under the ceiling fan, in air-conditioned comfort, with a frivolous novel and a glass of iced tea by my side. Well, I did some of that. But I was proud; my day was still riddled with minor accomplishments.
Beast and Tiny in cage in La Petite’s room, chillin’ in the air conditioned house
>It’s like a flashback to when I was in high school. Beirut is synonymous with war, hostages are being held all over, reporters are being injured, kidnapped, and more. The only difference is that Iran was a big bad guy then, and now it’s Iraq. Oh, wait. Iran is potential trouble now, too.
A few years ago, the U.S. went in to make its “surgical strike” in Baghdad. Based on the oxymoron-type advance “intelligence”, this surgical strike was supposed to take out the key players and end the war before it even started. Um, yeah. Right.
Kids reacted. They reacted strongly, with fear and worry. One asked me, “What if war breaks out when we’re at school?” I could only answer by telling her that while I hoped it wouldn’t happen, we had a procedure in place to keep students informed and to keep them safe. She was new in our school, so I followed up by explaining how we’d handled the infamous day of September 11, 2001. She felt better then. I don’t know exactly which part of our talk made her feel better, but I’m glad we had it. Maybe all she needed was a caring adult to listen and take her fears seriously.
I’m concerned that too many kids are out of school right now, and may be watching too much TV without having any adults to care and listen and take their fears seriously. I am even more concerned that they may be taking war as just another fact of life, or something imaginary like a cartoon or video game.
So folks, I plan to listen and be there for any young ones around me. Please, for their sake, do the same for yours.
>Murphy’s Law says that whatever can go wrong, will. Our local version of Murphy’s Law in regards to weather is this: all significant storms will go around our area, unless we are grilling out.
It happened again today — for the third time this summer. The radar looked like we’d once again miss the heart of the storm, so I fired up the grill, and sure enough the thunder rumbled threateningly just as I got the fire started. Luckily, we have a good charcoal grill with a lid and a side vent and a chimney, so I cooked outside anyway. So there! I used an umbrella to check on the meat and wore a rainjacket to bring it in. And yes, the Superburgers were delicious. So were the side dishes: the incredibly frivolous jello fluff and the simple pasta salad, not to mention the chocolate chip cookies that are almost gone.
So, my advice to you drought-ridden folk is this: Grill out more often. It worked for me!
>After nearly two weeks of Not Cooking, the cupboard was as bare as Old Mother Hubbard’s. It was time to call on my alter-ego, Pioneer Mom. Yes, Pioneer Mom keeps her family fed, bakes from scratch, never calls for pizza, and wastes nothing.
Today Pioneer Mom recognized that the weather was perfect for playing in the kitchen. At 74 degrees and with all the windows open, Pioneer Mom baked chocolate chip cookies and started a loaf of homemade white bread.
Now the disclaimer: Pioneer Mom uses modern appliances. The mixmaster helped with the cookies, so as to rest the sore wrist (injured in December starting a stubborn snowblower). The bread is in the bread machine — no hands-on kneading required. Cleaning the kitchen is easy with the help of the dishwasher, too.
But confessions aside, the house smells wonderful and we’ll have good food for supper and snacks. The end justifies the means, even for Pioneer Mom.
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update: I have entered this post in Scribbit’s Write-Away Contest. Details here.
>Bonding while shopping: good.
Bonding while shoe shopping: better.
Bonding while shopping for the most favorite shoe of all time in an outlet store devoted to that shoe: priceless.
On the way to something else, La Petite found mention of a Converse shoes outlet mall on a route that we were about to travel. Of course, we made plans to stop. You see, she owns lots (and I mean LOTS) of Converse Check Taylor All-Stars. They are her main choice of footwear, and (this part I like) she almost never pays full price for a new pair. The last pair she bought was in the bargain bin at a tent sale for $5. She walked in with a five dollar bill and a quarter to cover sales tax, and voila! New pair of shoes.
The Converse store was tiny, but had an amazing selection. They saved us a parking space right in front of the door (not really, but we like to pretend when there’s a perfect spot available), and before even going inside, La Petite had her camera out to preserve the moment. Inside, she found 3 pair of shoes that she LOVED. First she found a pale blue-green that she’d been considering for over a year, but never found on sale. Here? $10. Pale mauve, too: $20 instead of $45. The really cool pair was dark blue, a shade missing from her Converse rainbow, and in a special design that lists at $80 on the official web site. Here? $20.
I forced her (life is rough) to accept a gift of a tiny coin purse that was an exact replica of the $5 bargain she had bought in June. Add to the bag a t-shirt with dancing bunnies on it, and then we had to leave before she hyperventilated.
Bonding while shopping: good.
Bonding while shoe shopping: better.
Bonding while shopping for the favorite shoe of all in an outlet store devoted to that shoe: Okay, we split the cost, but it wasn’t much — and that kind of fun has no price tag.
This post has been entered in Scribbit’s write-away contest for August. The theme is Collections.
