Posted in Family, Reviews, sports, swimming

Love, Laughs, and Laps


I did see this quote on the internet, which means it could very well have come from Abraham Lincoln and not Maurice Sendak, but given that warning, it still meant something to me to read this quote attributed to Maurice Sendak: “Once a little boy sent me a charming card with a little drawing on it. I loved it. I answer all my children’s letters — sometimes very hastily — but this one I lingered over. I sent him a card and I drew a picture of a Wild Thing on it. I wrote, ‘Dear Jim: I loved your card.’ Then I got a letter back from his mother and she said, ‘Jim loved your card so much he ate it.’ That to me was one of the highest compliments I’ve ever received. He didn’t care that it was an original Maurice Sendak drawing or anything. He saw it, he loved it, he ate it.”

C.S. Lewis, in his book on love, writes of loving someone so much you want to eat them up.  “Love you?  I am you!” Is one of the expressions he uses to convey that feeling.  I know that feeling well.

That is the feeling that makes me kiss the soles of my son’s feet, and that spot on my husband’s forehead, right between his eyebrows.  It is the feeling that compells me to growl like a beast and pretend to gnaw up Thor’s neck, while he giggles and howls, and to blow fantastic raspberries on my B’s belly.  It is the feeling that inspires bone cracking bear hugs, awesome tickle fights, and the best laughter on earth.

The boys went off on a Man-Trip with Granddad this past weekend, leaving me all alone.  I was delighted when they came home.  I missed them!  I think Thor might have missed me a little because he grabbed me, sniffed my hair and said, “I don’t know how you smell so good!” before running off again. 

And my wish for all you readers today, is that you love someone or something so much that you want to eat them/it*. 

While they were gone, I thought to catch up with my movie watching.  You know, the shows they wouldn’t want to watch anyway (or that Thor isn’t old enough to screen.)  You know what I ended up watching?  The Godfather.

I’d never seen it before, and since I’ve fallen so hard for Boardwalk Empire, I thought maybe I should view the –er– godfather of all mobster movies.  It was funny how much of the dialog I knew, just from the social vernacular.  I half quoted Marlon Brando’s opening monologue along with him (something else I can’t do when the boys are at home–act out the movies as they go.) 

I’ll be honest, I thought the first fifteen minutes were awful and boring.  It didn’t get good until they shot Vito Corelone, and then I was interested.  No, then I was hooked and I really enjoyed the rest.

I also watched Bad Teacher on Saturday.  As black comedies go, that one was pretty funny.  I do wish people would stop trying to make Justin Timberlake The Actor happen, though.  He is hilarious on SNL, but otherwise, he is strictly Disney style.  Really.  Watch that video.  God bless him.  He tries.  But he succeeds at making great music.  Anyway.  Bad Teacher=Okay Movie.

In other news completely, this is my  new lap swim toy:

90010 Combination Sport Count Ring

It’s a lap counter for swimmers–looks huge, doesn’t it?  Nope.  It fits on your finger like a secret decoder ring!  It is so cool, y’all.  I was swimming this morning, watching the timer while I stroked, and pretending I was a spy who had planted a device and was swimming away as the countdown ran.  That lasted me two laps before Sweet Child of Mine came on my mp3 player and I had to concentrate on not playing air guitar underwater.  I am that nerd.

 
What do you think about when you work out?  I have to entertain myself.

*Don’t really eat anyone, okay?  That’s not mentally healthy.

Posted in baseball, Health, music, swimming

You Betta Work!


I’ve picked two actual workouts to rotate into my lap swimming.  Thus far, I have swum to the clock without much attention to how many laps I am getting in during a workout.  Going forward, I’ll be swimming to a set routine.  I think that will help a) with the ennui of back and forth, b) boost the physical benefits, and c) keep my mind off my fears because I’ll be too busy thinking, “Wait…was that four or five?  Dang it!  Better call it four just to be sure.”

I am listening to the World Series, avoiding watching the nail biter.  I watched until Lewis walked two to load the bases.  Then, I couldn’t watch any longer.  It isn’t like it’s MY team.  My team is the Braves.  My American League team is the Yankees.  But, if I can’t have a series with the Braves and the Yankees (and wasn’t I having a ball that year?! two hats!  I rooted for whichever team was at bat.) then I’ll root, root, root for the home team–my home team, the Rangers.  If they don’t win, it really will be a shame.

Although, if they do win, I won’t be able to taunt my brother-in-law and husband any longer with, “Remind me…  How many World Series have the Rangers won?”

I’m an odd sports fan.  I really do love watching sports, but I have these huge gaps in knowledge of rules of play.  I still don’t know the difference between all the numbers they call on the football field–you know, the ones that determine for how many more plays the offense has the ball?  No clue.  But I get excited just the same.  I confuse baseball rules with softball rules half the time.  I know zilch about hockey, and basketball foul rules confuse the hoop out of me.  But I love watching sports.  I know when to yell.

Like right then!  Beltre homerun!!!  We’re in the lead at the top of the 7th!  Two more innings to play, though.  No getting cocky.

In other news, I am seriously considering (and by seriously I mean starting to plan) giving a stab at auditions for the next X Factor. (HOMERUN CRUZ! WOO!)  I’ve always said that the only thing keeping me from auditioning for American Idol was the age limit.  I think I could have a very decent shot at being an Over 30.  I mean, I’m no homeless, James Brown impersonator, but I’m pretty good with a mic.  I’ve thought how much fun it would be to live blog the process, but wondered if cell phones are allowed?

Do I want to be a known commodity, though?  No.  Do I want validation from Simon Cowell?  Yes.  Ha!  I want to vanity audition.  So the question is, if I don’t really want to sing for a living, do I fool with it and potentially rob someone of the chance, who is truly passionate about performance as a lifestyle?  That is assuming that I am good enough to make it through the producers, onto the actual audition.

I know what I would wear…