Images of Fall

Fat People

I was sitting at Elijah’s football practice talking with Melanie and Ashlee (two of the parents). And I was discussing my blog about the back-handed compliment. Melanie then proceeded to tell me this story.

My aunt and I were in Krogers. She’s about my size. (Melanie is heavy – not huge – I’d guess a size 20/22). And this woman and came up to us and said “You two look like you know how to cook, can I ask you a question.”

Now what makes you think we know how to cook, Melanie thought to herself. The woman then proceeded to hold out a pound of hamburger and a can of manwich mix. “can you tell me what I can do to dress this up?” Melanie responded, “Please don’t tell me that you’re on a date and fixing him manwich?” The gentleman next to the woman responded that they were married. And Melanie’s aunt, told the woman to sautee some onions and green peppers.

Now, while I was laughing joyously at the story – which is much better when she tells it than when I write it, I decided that it was a blog worthy topic. There are some inherent differences between fat people and skinny people. And you can tell if someone has been fat or if they will be fat using this one criteria.

Fat people – past, present and future – will give you directions to any place in town by using food stores.

A fat person would tell you that to get to my house from WKU, you needed to take the bypass and turn right onto Scottsville Road, there will be a Kentucky Fried Chicken and a Taco Bell on opposite corners. Take that road until you get to Crossroads IGA – you’ll pass the sonic, the zaxby’s and a high school.

A skinny person will use road numbers, stoplight numbers, street names. But fat people will use restaurants. I first noticed the phenomenon when I worked at Kinko’s. The fat people used restaurants to guide to the store and skinny people – well truth be told they tended to give crappy directions.

I am a bit interested in the ask a fat person how to cook while in the store. Which is a new approach to be sure. Though to be fair, as I told Melanie, fat people may not know how to cook – we are simply gifted at lifting the utensil to our mouth with astonishing frequency and accuracy.

The Fall

 

There is something about fall that makes me want to go driving on the back country roads. To find someplace to park, sit an talk. It makes me want to find new people to meet, and get to know. It's really exciting and fun getting to know new people. It's not so easy to maintain those relationships - I can only assume that i am a particularly difficult person to get to know or to get along with - as most of the people I know all say the really like me but don't particularly want to spend any time with me. Which ultimately isn't a bad thing because i like doing nothing. Though i feel bad for Elijah, because I think that life long friendships tend to be formed when parents get along and have a relationship as well. But who knows.

Anyway, the days have been so nice. And it's a great time to be outside. Not too hot, not too cold. Today, the boys and i headed out to Jackson's Orchard. Elijah played for all of 10 minutes on the hale bales and was done, but it was something to do -- something different. I of course took pictures, but they weren't too great - the sun was wrong. We'll go back when Franklin comes and i'll take some more.

And those of you who are reading this - quit and go enjoy the weather. 

Futbol vs. Football

 
Football vs. Futbol

Elijah has started playing American football this year. Flag football actually. And I’ve noticed some huge differences between football and soccer. Unexpected differences, but not surprising ones.

First of all, it is apparent to me that those who are involved in football must have secret prescriptions of testosterone somewhere. At the sign-up, there were gruff men everywhere, loud voices, shouting. Imagine if you will the Tim the Tool Man growl going on every single second. It was a little overwhelming. It would appear that Bowling Green dads take football much more seriously than soccer (which I suppose they must consider some sort of foreign sissy sport). Practices seem to be modeled after the US military with a lot of hurry up and wait. As the boys have learned a bit more, the practices have been a bit more active. And there is really nothing more exciting than seeing 5 year old boys having to run because they weren’t paying attention. I of course know all about running in football thanks to Joel Taylor, the history teacher I work with. Running is apparently an effective punishment. Odd that I haven’t seen it included in any parenting magazines. Is your son out of control and disrespectful. Have him run to the edge of your property and back. Eventually, that child will be just too tired to do anything.

More dads attend the practices as well. There are still the mom’s, typically grouped in bunches chatting and laughing, occasionally looking up to cheer for their son. But the dads, well they are out there in the practice. I’ve seen a couple of dads pull their kids aside for a intent discussion on the finer points of the game (looks a lot like a lecture to me . . . but I’m sure they’d disagree). These dad take this flag football very seriously.

Now those of you who know me, know that I’m a relatively competitive person. Those things I can do well, I like to do the best (or at least better than anyone I know). But Elijah is bigger than most of the other kids (at least 2 – 3 inches taller than most and probably 20 pounds heavier). And those of you know football, know that means he plays center. The first game, I watched my son hand the ball, slowly and carefully, to the coaches son (who surprisingly plays quarterback), a total of 3 times. The rest of the time, I watched him sit on the sideline, play with his friends, or just stand around a bit. Once the ball is handed off, the game tends to lend itself to a bit of a melee. A free for all where everyone is running about. The running seem to take on a bit more organization once the boys find out who has the football. Elijah doesn’t set any speed records, and tackling is a penalty here – so he sort of stands on the field a bit after that.

Another huge difference is that at the game, instead of having an 8 year old boy or girl ref the game; there are 3 to 4 adult men in referee uniforms. This last game, we even got to see a few flags thrown. There were penalty yards awarded. I think Elijah got called for holding, which by the way he did very well. He grabbed that little boy and that kid couldn’t go anywhere until the play ended. The referee took a few minutes to show them how to push with their folded arms instead of holding – which I thought was a very nice way to address a teachable moment. And of course, then Elijah spent the next 30 minutes sitting on the sideline. It’s a hard game for the parent of a slow runner to watch. There’s no glory there; nothing to really cheer for. The first game, it took me until the last 5 minutes of the game to talk myself into being proud that every touchdown we scored was because Elijah was able to pass the ball off well (if they drop it or set it down, it counts as a fumble). But still, that’s a bit of a straw grasper by any definition.

Jose is, of course, little help. He doesn’t watch football, doesn’t understand the rules, and is indifferent to any success that Elijah may have in the sport. Elijah likes soccer more. And I can understand that because in soccer at least he’s on the field and doing something. But, Elijah is not going to be a small, slim, slight person able to dart about on the field. There’s a slight chance that he may build some speed – even a rhinoceros can lumber along pretty quickly. But, I just don’t see him on a soccer field as easily as I see him knocking some poor kid down and running over them, leaving cleat marks on their cheeks. So we’re focusing on learning the game, enjoying the practices, and waiting until we can tackle. And we’ll make long term decisions when he’s older and it counts.

In the meantime, I’m going to start carrying a bit of estrogen spray in my bag and sprinkle it over everyone. When they are 5 and just playing a game, I don’t think it’s really a matter of life, death or penis – it’s just for fun. 

The backhanded compliment

The backhanded compliment

A friend who should really be considered a relative, of mine recently sent me an email with this comment:
I don't know if I have told you but I am very proud of the wife mother, and person you have turned out to be. When I think back to your younger days I am amazed at how well you have done. Keep up the good work.

And you know, I didn’t really know how to take it. My first instinct is to see only that she is offering me a compliment on being a good wife, mother and person. And then, I tend to take a bit of offense that it seems that she is very surprised that I turned out so well considering how bad I was when I was younger – of course she doesn’t mention that the corrupting influence on me at that time when she knew me was her own son. But to be fair, she’s equally surprised that he is going to turn out well too.

The odd thing is that I don’t really feel any differently than I did then – and it’s been 18 years. I still feel about the same as I did in high school. I have more friends. But I do the same things now that I did then – or would have done then if the personal computer had been such a big thing. But really, I didn’t do that much stupid stuff. I was usually the designated driver on the weekend, not the drunk throwing up in the car. Though the one time that I got really drunk, was in her basement. But better to get drunk in a basement than out and about somewhere.

I suppose I could go on and on about how I wasn’t such a bad person – and haven’t evolved into anything special. I will say that all things considered, I’m a bit calmer about what I believe and what others believe. I don’t feel that it is my job to change the minds of others. And, after working with republicans through two elections, I have learned to keep my opinions to myself while others spout theirs. There’s really no point in going there – because no one is going to change their mind, and people are just going to get angry.

A part of me believes that Kay, like my dad, feel that I’ve improved because I go to church regularly. Though I should warn them that actual attendance does not a pathway in the Christian heaven make. I still struggle with the basic principles of organized religion. I’m not a big fan in the one and only way to heaven – just like I’m not a big fan of the we are the sole reason the universe was created. And should the rapture come in my lifetime, well, thank god for the seven years of trials and tribulations. Though it will suck because you know Jose will be a first draft pick and who will I find to do the house work and grow the vegetables in the garden when I’m not going to be able to buy them from the bad people – do you think that will be a good diet?

But I digress. So, I’ll take the compliment as exactly that. I’m not going to lose any sleep over the so much better than I thought. I’m sure, if my graduating class manages to have the 20 year reunion, that I’ll probably hear a bit more of that this year than I’d like to – although I’m also sure they’ll all say I look just like I did in high school – fat people just don’t age – it’s a gift.