baking baking baking

I spent all weekend baking. Omg. I sound just like a stay at home mom. Gross.

But I did. AND, thanks to my TESTER, I know that at least ONE of my items is comparable to bliss, while at least ONE of my items is a senseless waste of chocolate and I will be making no more. Guess what I'm doing RIGHT NOW? Baking some more.

YAY, I... need to log off - something is BURNING...

B-Ball, Game 2

C's rec league team had another early morning game today, and I was dismayed to see that one of the girls wasn't able to attend. This is a problem, remember we're already short 1 because a girl signed up and has decided not to play. So today, we played 8 on 10, 2 lines of 5, and C was asked to stay on the court for 30 minutes of a 40 minute game. By the last "period" she was shuffling down the court like... well, nothing attractive I can assure you. Poor kid was beat.

She had a super time though, got a shot or two in this game, and really stood out at the defense pattern we Mom's began to refer to as SWARM defense. Unlike Zone or One on One, the girls simply swarmed around the ball handling player with their hands in the air. They were easily a foot "off" the player, maybe more, Basket Ball is a Non-Contact Sport right? Well, the way C plays there's surely no bumping or anything else.

By half way through the game, when our team was up by 25 points or so, our coach benched a bunch of the "ringers" and sent out our "lambs". I think she was hoping the other team would catch up, or put some points on the board, or something, but again, astonishingly, the swarm defense was very effective. No points were scored for a solid 5 minutes of play time, on either side. I don't want to say Coach Tia told our Ringers to stop scoring, because I don't know for sure what is said out on the court. I can tell you that everyone on C's team got a chance to try for a basket, and that at some point our coaches seemed to enjoy calling time outs so they could explain strategy to our Lambs that they could go practice immediately.

The team named themselves today. The other team had named themselves The Blue Jays (beautiful blue shirts) and all wore their hair in side pony tails with their shirts tied around in cute little knots. Since C's team shirts are "sinus infection snot green", and I don't think the coach was tickled to name the girls The Snot or The Limes, she let them decide, on the fly.... They're now the Green Crushers. Yea, maybe not the MOST ladylike name, but whatever, they girls are enthused about it.

OH and NO fouls on C for double dribble or traveling today -so YAY for improvement! (for anyone keeping track final score, 48 - 12)

And Open Letter to SRG

Dear Stupid Red Headed Girl Who Sits in the Back of the Class,

Last Thursday, as I was leaving class, I overheard a remark by the professor, that at the time brought me a little comfort. I heard him tell you that you needed an 80 or better on last night's Organic Chemistry test to qualify for the opportunity to take the exam. I figured that you were simply playing dumb, and that surely you would come home from class armed with that information and study your amply proportioned booty off.

Clearly, by the size of your booty last night, and by your comment in the 2 minutes before the test started "OMG, I need to study a little before this starts!" that didn't happen. I occurs to me that maybe you just don't know how to pass a class with difficult subject matter, and I thought I could help.

The first step to passing a class, any class, is to attend class with respect to its start and finish times. When you are ten minutes late and sit in the BACK of the class, you jostle and annoy the other students as you make your way through the room. Additionally, in the same category with tardiness is your habit of dismissing yourself at 8pm for a smoke break. The class runs from 7pm - 840pm. We were fortunate that only on very rare occasions did Dr Forest decide to lecture that late. Usually he wrapped up by 8:20 or so. I find it extraordinary that your nasty stinky smoking habit could not wait an additional twenty minutes for him to finish. When you leave the class twenty minutes early for a smoke break and you sit in the BACK of the class, you jostle and annoy the other students as you make your way through the room.

The second step to passing any class, is to read the material. SRG, I know I cannot be the only person in your life who has indicated this to you, but Chemistry is a hard enough class when you have a clue as to what is happening. Trying to do it without reading the chapters would be a little like attending only 50 minutes of a 1 hour and 20 minute class. Reading is important. If you are confused by how to read, take the College Success Class offered at the Western Campus by Professor Berry. He can give you some tips, and the class, for most students, is an easy A, so you could probably scrape a C out if it at least.

The third and final step to passing a class in college is to respect your professors and other students. Since you needed a relatively high grade on the last test to pass, and it might come down to whether or not he rounds your grade UP, it is important that he think Highly Of You. This would be a stretch, but here are a few pointers that might help in that regard. This sounds crazy, I know, but when you start talking in the middle of a test on Organic Chemistry, you're not making life long friends with your classmates, and I can assure you that you're definitely pissing off the professor. I would also suggest that you NOT SNAP YOUR GUM throughout the testing period. You annoy the students in the class & the professor. If the professor chooses to leave the room to use the restroom, it's not license to cheat. And, since you've now alienated yourself from the class, you should probably consider that the answers your fellow students share might be wrong. I however, will never even pretend to share answers with you, even wrong ones, because I respect myself more than that. Do not bother to stage whisper loudly, "hey, marathon girl! Hey! Virginia, what is the answer to #G?" because #G is not an #, and I am deaf during tests. Stone Deaf. You know why I'm deaf right? Because I have a JOB and a LIFE, and neither one includes getting expelled from school or even disrespecting myself because you were too stupid to study.

Good Luck to you in your endeavor to join the MEDICAL Field. I get a little shaking in my boots when I consider that you might one day be a Radiology Tech. I truly hope that school either gives you the courage to behave in an adult and respectful way, OR that when it weeds you out you are able to find employment in the food service industry, where I understand there are many benefits to be had such as health insurance, free MilkShakes, and little reading is required.

Regards,

The Exempt Brown Haired Student Who Sits in the Front of the Class

IT's the Guitar!

Hey Kitten what'chya doin?

Wanna plaaaaaaay the guitar?

You say whats that sound,

Coming out of the hole in the wood?

...it's the guitar.

(seriously, you better know that's The DeadMilkmen)

Today my son sat down to play his guitar. He's had 2 months of lessons, and I think he's starting to have a real grip on the basics for a 7 year old. (i.e. - produce a clean note when you strike a string and practice makes perfect). However, the lessons are not running during the month of December, and his guitar hasn't been tuned since the Monday before Thanksgiving. It sounded, uh, interesting today. Interesting in a painful "please stop playing that instrument" kind of way.

I couldn't say that though. He's a 7 year old, and there's his self esteem to consider. I had to suck it up and listen. And that's what I did. For 5 minutes until I felt compelled to remind G that he wasn't allowed to practice his guitar until all his chores were done. THEY ARE? Crud. OH, I mean, "can you double check the chore list?"

Seeing as pain in my knee is already chronic, I decided that pain in my ears was optional and I was going to have to fix this somehow. My choices were limited - hunt up a musician to tune the guitar, take it to Guitar Works and beg, or do it myself.

Before my voice changed I could sing quite well. Unfortunately, once my voice changed and I developed the range of a middle aged man, I was uninterested in pursuing any kind of musical career, and so, despite the fact that my father is one of the most talented musicians I know (and I know a lot because he is a talented musician), I have no instrumental ability.

Did I mention that Dad plays guitar? And Banjo? And pretty much if it has strings he can make it happen... but never once in the 900 times that he offered to teach me to tune one of these instruments did I listen? Nope. Not ONCE. AND now my son owns 3 guitars, 1 banjo, 1 base ukulele.... all which need tuning.

Today I was inspired by my recent foray into the world of "tallness" via basketball, to try a bit in the world of "music-ness" via guitar tuning. I now own a tuner *see above note about son owning 5 stringed instruments. And I knew, in general, how a guitar should sound and, in general, how a tuner should work. So the instructions on the tuner were clear, strum the guitar, tune the string - the tuner will tell you what note you're closest too. I foolishly assumed that if the note was an off key F, that the string should have been an F.

Ha. HAAHAHAHAHA. GUESS WHAT? Those suckers can be off by as many as 2 whole notes! So after I tuned it, I gave it a strum, and when my ears stopped bleeding I thought, "I'm going to need to do something a little more precise". Enter into the equation "GOOGLE". Seriously, did you know you can learn ANYTHING on google? ANYTHING AT ALL? EVEN - "How To Tune A Guitar"?

3 minutes later, armed with this new knowledge, I tuned that baby right up. And set my son loose with the 5 songs he knows. They're the 5 songs he's going to know until he spends a little time with D-Dad or Lessons resume (in January), so if I have to hear them over and over (and over), at least now I can hear them over and over in tune.

Super Bad

C started basket ball today through our county. I had to spend a few minutes trying to figure the game out so I could try to share what I'd gleaned with C. My knowledge was "sparse" to say the worst.

It is a small, yet well organized league. Our coach and assistant were awesome. Both College players, one on scholarship at UCLA until she was sidelined with an injury & now plays for VCU.

They didn't waste anytime lining the girls up to warm up, stretch and do some drill looking thingys where they practiced laying down... up? Layup? ANYWAY - drills with balls and shooting at the basket. C has never been on a court before and with 3 words from the coach she made a basket. Yes, seriously! C had a super time. Then, after 1 hour of practice where they did no running/dribbling work, concentrating on layups (seriously, did I make that up?) and defense (a word I know), the coaches distributed the uniforms and the game started. The uniforms were all one size. This is a league of girls from 9 - 11. So. C's uniform is an adult small. I will be washing it in HOT. Very very HOT, and drying on High. For an hour.

Let me explain a few things about how it went today. The first is that we're a team of 9, but there's supposed to be 10. Each team must play a line of 5 players for 5 minutes, the clock is paused, the lines switch. This means that on our team one girl would stay out for 10. C will never be asked to play for more than 5 minutes at a time. The "line" that C is on with 2 other non-players and 1 really decent player. And the "line" which came to be identified as the "ringer line" because it's 4 really REALLY good players and 1 really decent player. The Ringer Line rotated through C's line, so there was always one really savvy ball player on the court to help "direct" the dazed and confused. I'm not going to lie- those girls were fierce. Our coach had to start directing them to play it down because she didn't want to run up the score!

C did get her time on the court regardless of how much ball time she had. She did some defense, consisting of me & the coaches yelling "HANDS UP!" (I learned that today) And, she spent a lot of her time talking to coaches & refs about "fouls". Her fouls were "double dribble" and "traveling". 'sall Good though, because she was having a great time.

At one point during the game, she and the "non-ringer" line were out playing, and Colleen throws her hands up in front of her screaming "DON'T PASS IT HERE!!! NO!" As a girl sends her the ball. C's a smart girl. She looked at the pack of opposition players converging on her and she threw the ball as fast as she could in the "general direction" of a teammate.... right into the waiting hands of the opposite team. But hey, her coaches all yelled, "IT'S OK! It's OK C. NOW GO PLAY DEFENSE!" So funny. The moms and I were rolling on the floor laughing as one player on our team caught the ball and, holding it like a football, sprinted down the court. So. Let's just say that Colleen was not traveling alone today.

C's team won, and despite that she handled the ball exactly 5 times in the game without a foul (one of those was an assist on a rebound - those are hockey terms, but I bet they could apply), she got an immense satisfaction out of the fact that her team won 32 to 6.

Oh, and the other good news is that on the back of her cool lime green t-shirt is the number 3! (G's Hockey number!, My Lucky number!) So, that's always good.

>Tallness

I am "not" a Tall Mom. It would seem that I have surrounded myself with Tall Moms though, both in the real world, and now even in the bloggy world. I married a Tall Husband and in doing such have produced Tall Children (except B). I also have Tall Parents and Tall Siblings, and in general, spent a lot of my life feeling a little like the ugly duckling, only instead of being "the ugly one" I was just "the short one". By inches. When I say inches I think it's important to mention that my "little" sister is a 6ft tall model. I am nearly 5'3.

Nearly.

So this week my Tall Daughter is starting basketball! Yes, on Saturday, assuming that G's surgery goes well, we will be stepping onto the basketball court. For the first time in... no, g, that's got to read "for the first time"(period). I have never played basketball. Not even recreationally. Not even in my friends driveway growing up. Or as a grown up. Never. In High School during the "basketball" session of 10th grade PE, you know, where you learn a new sport?, my short friend and I were excused to walk on the track for 30 minutes of "cardiovascular activity", or a few laps of gossip, which ever came first.

We will be forging into uncharted waters. Boldly going where I have never been. And of course I expected my daughter to be nervous or excited, or both, in anticipation of her new sport. Do you know, she only had ONE question for me in regards to Basket Ball. One.

"Mom, do I get a new basket ball outfit?"

surgery Friday

I had such high hopes for this weekend.

On Friday night while H worked late I was going to bake cookies with my children, on Saturday I was going to wake up and take some motrin before sneaking out on a "long run", then in the afternoon my youngest has a ballet recital at a retirement home, It's also the first day of basketball for C - and we don't even know what time that's supposed to start, and finally on Sunday we were going to church for pageant rehearsals, and then the kids & I would come home, put up outside lights until it was time for H to take G to hockey.

Yea. About that.

G's surgery is Friday. Fun times.