September 23, 2009
Holding My Own
I can't seem to get my life organized these days. We just have entirely too much going on around here. With after school activities four days a week, Saturday swim classes and enough grading to literally bury me for months, I am not managing well. Last night, I had every intention of getting in to train at the dojo and then Big I walked in the house wearing her muddy sneakers and wrecked the kitchen floor. I couldn't leave it; I have white carpet in the rest of the house. I had no choice but to mop and then my mop broke and I had to go get a new part to finish the job. By the time I was done, karate was starting. I had missed my chance.
Because I'm not finding much time for physical fitness or karate, I quit the gym yesterday. Well, I should say that I mailed my notice that I'm quitting and I'll probably have to reincarnate Johnny Cochran to get me out of my membership. I've heard they're a pain like that. Instead of paying all this money to go there, be harassed by trainers and have my kid get sick all the time from the Germ Zone, I went to Dick's, bought a step and decided I have enough equipment at home to do my workouts. And yesterday, they started.
I took Lil C on an hour long walk through my neighborhood and today, I'm breaking out my step and free weights. Lil C said she wants to work out with me. This will be much better than leaving her in the Kid Zone screaming for me. And when I have a few minutes, I can do something here instead of driving 15 minutes to get there. Plus, I'm saving some cash. When my work-outs get stale, I'm going to head over to this new personal training business and get a session or two to get some new ideas. I'm going to see how this works out. I'm hoping it does.
One area where I happen to be holding my own is over at BullsnBalls. I'm writing a fantasy football column over there and am having fun with it. I love fantasy football and am looking forward to doing nothing this weekend except watching every single game. As a writer over there, I have to make picks for college football. I'm not really knowledgeable about college football teams AT ALL. Mr. BBM was going to help me but he's been busy, so I've been picking them myself, based on "a feeling." Head over there to see how I'm doing. I'm pretty proud of myself.
September 21, 2009
Back to the Stomping Grounds
The University of Pittsburgh is not what it used to be. It has changed so very much since I was there and it made me wish I could hit "rewind" and go back in time a bit. Gone is the old Pitt stadium. Now the Panthers play at Heinz field.
Gone are the tiny band and pathetic sports teams. Now Pitt's football team is currently undefeated; their basketball team was #1 last year and the band is massive.
The student section at the game is no longer a clique-like divided up mish-mash of students. The students seem to be as one, throwing people up in the air, singing songs, painting their stomachs with "PITT" and making enough noise to seriously disrupt the plays on the field.
This is me with my awesome friend. We've been friends since 7th grade.
Thanks to my friend's company being a major sponsor of Pitt football this year, we were given a pass to the VIP tent before the game and we also got escorted onto the field for warm-ups.
That was amazing. Not only are you standing down there where the Panthers play, but the Steelers play there too. Mr. BBM was beside himself with joy. Then we were escorted to our awesome seats in the end zone.
We got to watch an awesome game where Pitt beat Navy, and the fireworks after the game too.
After the game we caught a crazy cab ride to the South Side, complete with cab commentary that made us almost die with laughter. "Can you see that with your brights?" was just one of the cabby-isms. You can do the rest with your imagination. We hung out in various places and had a blast people watching and catching up with one of our good friends from our college days and his lovely wife.
Later, we went back to our free hotel room suites and caught some much needed z's. On Sunday morning as we were heading out, Jamie Dixon appeared. He was in our hotel recruiting a basketball player for next year. I noticed him standing outside as Mr. BBM sat in the car nearby waiting for me and my friend. I told Coach Dixon that Mr. BBM was probably freaking out that he was standing right there and told him what a huge fan of Pitt football Mr. BBM happens to be. He immediately walked over to the car, shook Mr. BBM's hand and happily posed for a picture.
I don't think this weekend could have been any better!
September 18, 2009
Miles Behind: The Pressure We Put on Kids
I don't talk about it often, because it's a huge embarrassment to me. When I was a Junior in high school, I hoped for a permanent spot on the Varsity field hockey team, but I didn't get it. Instead I got tons of time playing on JV where I worked hard and did a great job, but literally only seconds during many Varsity games. Sometimes those seconds came during the last 30 seconds of the game, as my coach looked back, realized she hadn't played me at all, and would throw me in for an embarrassing stint that made no sense. I think I would have preferred not to play at all.
I worked hard at field hockey, playing on weekends in my back yard and inviting my friend over to hit around with me. I wasn't the best player on the team, but I wasn't horrible either. I showed up to every practice and busted my butt, even when I really wanted to just go home and deal with an upset stomach or a super runny nose. Even when sick, I would be there.
Sometimes I think that if my parents had been at more of my games, I would have seen more playing time. But my Dad had a busy schedule at work and we rarely saw him before 6 p.m. at home each week night. My Mom was busy working too, and running my sister around to her activities. They came sometimes, but they weren't the vocal parents on the sidelines that you see today. They blended into the background, kind of the way I obviously did on the sidelines.
During a playoff game my Junior year, my coach forgot to play me at all and tried to put me in with only 30 seconds left in the game. This was the last straw for me. I already felt like she picked on me unnecessarily and I wasn't going to suffer through another embarrassing amount of playtime. I pretended I didn't hear her until it was too late to sub me in, and I made up my mind.
I was done.
Every girl knew that you had to be dressed and on the field running when she came out of the building to start practice. My friends couldn't believe what I was about to do. As she was about ready to grab her stuff and come out, she found me standing at her office door, completely dressed in my school clothes.
She started having a fit on me and asking me why I wasn't dressed. I told her it really didn't matter if I was on the field or not since she refused to allow me to contribute to the team whatsoever. She started to come back at me and yell at me, but I was done. My body shook as I firmly told her that I worked just as hard as everyone else, and that my playing time was a joke. I told her I was done, handed her my uniform, turned my back to her, and walked away as she continued to yell at me and tell me she'd try to give me more playing time in the next game. I was always respectful to my teachers and coaches, and this time was no different. But there was no way she was going to intimidate me into getting back out on the field. I was so done.
Fast forward to present day.
Big I started playing youth field hockey this fall. She's in 3rd grade and the program just started this year for 2nd graders through 6th graders. The program should be a big boost to the already very good junior high and high school field hockey programs as these kids grow up and get on those teams. Around here, if you don't start a sport by the time you reach your 1st birthday, you're pretty much screwed when it comes to future success and playing time. Soccer programs start at the age of 2. Swimming starts at the age of 6 months. If I hadn't found out about the field hockey program, can you imagine how far behind Big I would have been when she hit 7th grade?
Last week they started scrimmaging. Big I was a wreck. She was so worried about playing the right way and doing a good job. With very little actual instruction on how to play the game, the kids went out on the fields and played six on six. I thought she did a great job for having no clue what was going on. She played somewhat aggressively and I was proud of her.
However, there were two girls on the team, both her age, who were amazingly good. One of the Mom's was serving as the coach for her team as she subbed kids in and I commented about how well her daughter was playing. "Oh," she said, "Yeah well she played on a club league all last year with the other girl."
My heart sank. Wanting to spare Big I the same disappointment that I did, I signed her up for the program thinking she would be ahead or at least at the same level. Once again, we seem to have missed the boat. Clearly, if I don't want her to be warming the bench in the later years, I'm going to need to find out about club hockey, and push her to practice all the time.
The thing is, as a 3rd grader, how is it possible to know what you want to do? How is it possible to not get burnt out from a sport if you start it so very young? What if she decides she wants to play tennis four years from now? Will she get cut because she didn't start swinging a racket when she was three?
I know that sports are great for confidence building, especially with girls. But I can't help but wonder if all this youth sport business isn't setting a huge amount of kids up for major disappointment later in life.
In a couple weeks, I'll be signing Big I up for age group swim team and I'm so afraid that she's already going to be starting miles behind everyone else.
If you had as dismal a fantasy football week as I did, go check out my latest column at Bulls N Balls.
September 14, 2009
Party Like a Black Belt
On Saturday night, I hosted a party to finally celebrate my black belt. My graphic designer made me incredible invitations that matched my blog design. My good friend and chef extraordinaire helped me create a menu, shopped with me, and ended up cooking throughout the first part of the party (not to mention the days before). My friend and neighbor showed up early to get the bar ready and to serve as bartender for the night. Man, he did an awesome job, as anyone who had one of his drinks can attest.
My daughter helped me create paper lanterns with the kanji for "Nintai" (Persevere) written on them (seen hanging from the catwalk above in the picture below.) They were also burning brightly outside all night.
And friends and family who played a part in helping me get my black belt were invited. Most attended. Some even took crazy pictures of all of us sticking our tongues out. Thank you Jeff.
There was chicken and beef yakitori with ginger, teriyaki and peanut sauces, shrimp wontons (made from scratch), asparagus with sesame oil and black sesame seeds, salad with ginger dressing, fried rice, teriyaki meatballs, vegetables with ponzu dipping sauce, crunchy noodle salad, fruit and vegetable trays, three different amazing salsa's, Japanese inspired snack mixes, enough Wasabi to make your eyes burn, homemade green tea ice cream and an incredible cake that said one word only in addition to the kanji that the cake lady actually wrote onto my icing belt with pretty much flawless precision.
The word? "Finally." The obi even had the seams that made it look like actual fabric and it was three-dimensional and actually looked like a belt was on top of the cake. When Big I saw it she said, "You're not going to cut that right???" It was almost too pretty to eat. Almost.
As guests arrived they were given a white ribbon to wear and throughout the night there were opportunities to get their yellow, green, brown and black ribbons. There were corresponding colored jello shots, Alton Brown's Cape Fear punch with green tea in it and enough liquor to kill an elephant, sake and more.
People got really into the rank promotions and by 10 p.m. I was asking my karate teachers to please school people on not asking for rank. I was very excited about how much everyone got into earning their black belts. I do have to admit though, that giving my 8th and 9th degree black belt teachers their "white belts" was just a bit uncomfortable. They were very good sports though.
Everyone seemed to be having a really good time. . .
As I was about to cut the cake, I asked everyone to come into the dining room and I gave a little speech.
I talked about Randy Pausch's "Last Lecture." I told them that just as he has a head fake at the end of his speech, I had one for the night too. Several neighbors thought I was going to say I was pregnant at this point. Clearly they had not seen me hitting the punch bowl on a regular basis. My "head fake" was that this party wasn't really for me; it was for them, my friends, family and teachers who helped me in ways that some of them may not have even realized. Then some people said some nice stuff about me and I got all teared up.
In attendance were my karate teachers and training friends, my physical therapist and his amazing graphic designer wife, my neighbors who volunteered to watch my girls on a regular basis so I could get out the door to train one more night a week, and friends who continually encouraged me on my journey.
We ate cake, consumed entirely too many color-coordinated jello shots, played beer pong and flip cup on the patio until I demanded we move it to the garage because I didn't want to get arrested. . .
This would be me "demanding". . .
. . . and we eventually broke out the karaoke machine too. And oh my God, the video evidence I now have to ruin people.
I also started a new fashion trend. All the cool girls are doing it. Those would be chopsticks, a required accessory for doing jello shots throughout the night. And I thought I had to work hard for my black belt! Geez!
I spent an entire week preparing for the party that finally ended around 3 a.m. and it was so worth it. For those of you who missed it, who played a role in helping me get to black belt, thank you as well. You weren't here to have the cake, but after I finish polishing it off, I'm going to need all the help I can get just to get my black belt back around my waist. I'll be relying on you once again.
September 11, 2009
Remembering Wendy L. Small: 2996 Project Tribute
I received an email a few weeks ago from the person who heads up the 2996 Project. It asked if I still cared, and I certainly do. The 2996 Project seeks to remember those who lost their lives on September 11. I participated a few years ago and remembered one of the victims. There is much said about the terrorists who invaded all our lives that day, but little is said about the victims. Maybe it's because there are so many; it's difficult to see them as individuals. As real people who lost their lives, and it's also hard to think about all those who were left behind, who grieve over their lost family members. Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, husbands, wives.
Today, I'm remembering Wendy L. Small.
Wendy was just 26 years old and a secretary at Cantor Fitzgerald in the World Trade Center. From the research I've done on Wendy, she was a very well loved young woman. The tributes to her are many.
When I started doing my research on her, I came across an online forum where friends and family of those missing on 9/11, went to post and ask for information. There was a posting from one of Wendy's friends seeking information about her. In her message, she mentioned Wendy's son. Reading that notice was gut-wrenching and I can't even imagine how those days after the attacks must have been for her family, friends, and especially for her son.
Wendy graduated from high school in 1993, the year I graduated. Those who went to high school with her said that she was the one everyone wanted to talk to, that she was always sweet and kind. While working at Cantor Fitzgerald, she also attended school at night. Her goal in life was to make a better life for herself and for her son Ty. While she's not here to watch over him directly, I think that all parents who lose their lives too early have a special seat above to watch over their children.
Today, September 11th, please take some time to remember Wendy L. Small and the other 2995 victims of September 11th.
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