Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)
Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.
This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.
Friday, September 12, 2003
And in other sports news...
Tonight's going to be a doozy.
Rebecca's team is going to play a practice game with an older group of girls. They've been working very hard all week to make up for their two losses last weekend, and this should provide them an opportunity to see how they're doing.
Being a gentleman, is would be wrong of me to say exactly how much older the other team is, but suffice it to say they are old enough to be the girls' mothers. And, in fact, are.
One of the moms thought this up as a way to let the girls have some fun--and actually managed to get all of the other mothers to agree. Even Miss Reba, whose coordination, grace, and skill are far beyond my poor ability to describe accurately, yet still in such a way as to allow me to remain among the living.
Even with what can be charitably described as rudimentary knowledge of the game, she is quite excited about the possibility of going up against her daughter in a little fancy footwork, to the point of even buying herself a pair of cleats!! (These will become Rebecca's new pair after tonight.)
The girls don't know who they will be playing--only that it's an older team. They seem to be psyched for it, though, and I imagine once they take the field and see who it is, they will transform into screaming banshees.
I'm just glad it's not me playing against them.
And, as with everything we do, this will require the normal amount of running hither and yon--I am supposed to take Bec to the park and leave everyone else at the house so she won't expect anything, then Reba will follow along later with the two youngest.
After the game, Boy has his practice, and Oldest is supposed to go spend the night with a friend and go to some sort of youth thing at church tomorrow, and Rebecca has a game at 1:30 at Liberty Park, and Catherine has a game at 3 in Trussville, and Jonathan has a game sometime Saturday, and then we have to retrieve Ashley, and I'm obviously NOT going to get to watch the Auburn game, and Rebecca has another game Sunday, and some time in there we have to go to church Sunday, and...and...
And I think I might better take a nap on the way home this evening, 'cause it sure looks like I'm going to need the rest.
One small good thing is that the grass doesn't need cutting. That Bayer Liquid Death seems to be working, although much slower than I like to see. Round-Up can really spoil you--you can almost watch weeds (and everything else, for that matter) wilt and die. The one good thing about the Bayer juice is that it does appear to be putting a dent in the nutgrass AND the lush growth of mimosa sprouts that have come up.
Anyway, I've jabbered enough for this week--all of you have a good weekend and I'll see you bright and early Monday.
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