The One with the Two Left Feet

Well, my summer break has come to an end.

 

It's been great. I've accomplished awesome and life-changing things such as sitting on my couch in my pajamas until 2:00 in the afternoon while downloading old Debbie Gibson (Electric Youth, baby!!) and Bangles songs.

 

Yesterday, I summoned enough energy to start packing to move back to the city. Although, I don't know if it's considered packing if I never really unpacked in the first place.

 

Yes. I was so smitten with the you're-on-vacation-so-you-can-be-a-complete-sloth concept that I didn't see the point of unloading everything just to turn around and reload it all up two weeks later. I had a nice rotation going with my Nike and Under Armour shorts and various baseball t-shirts I've collected from M's teams over the years.

 

Speaking of teams, we had church softball again last night. I cannot even begin to tell you how much fun it is.

And how horribly awful I am.

 

I don't know if you remember my confessional about how unathletic I am. For real. I couldn't hit a beach ball if it was rolled straight to me.

 

I was the girl who cried and screamed and begged and threatened to kill myself if my mother wouldn't let me quit softball when I was in middle school.

 

I wanted piano lessons. And painting class. And the freedom to read my precious Babysitters Club and Beverly Cleary and Judy Blume and Madeleine L'Engle and E.B. White books.

 

You could totally tell that last night.

 

Granted, I hit the ball each time I was up to bat. And I tried to get the first baseman to drop the ball instead of tagging me out - I guess bribes of $50 don't go as far as they used to. I did make it on base once, and due to the excellent hitting by the rest of the team I got to actually step on home plate.

 

However, the team has me catching. It's apparently the only spot on the field where I can do the least amount of damage, except to myself.

 

Yes. I fell. I wasn't even doing anything that spectacular. I was chasing a ball that someone threw in the general vicinity of home plate, and as I went to get it I tripped over my own two feet and found myself flat on my back.

 

The first thing that went through my mind?

I was wearing a clean white shirt, and the ground was a dirty dirt color. That means laundry.

 

I was so incredibly focused on the game, wasn't I? They should be proud to have me on the team.

 

I think I started laughing hysterically so everyone would think I did it on purpose. I delusionally like to distort reality like that sometimes.

 

As our team was running off the field, I heard some other people laughing and I looked over towards third base. There was someone rolling in the dirt shouting, "Who am I?? Who am I??"

 

It was my husband. The man who pledged his undying love and support to me in front of a church full of people 6.75 years ago.

 

He says he did it to get people's attention off of me because he knew I was embarrassed, but seriously.

 

Now we have two white shirts to wash.

 

Sheesh.

 

Our team won both games, no thanks to me. My husband, the spider monkey, is much more suited with quick reflexes catch anything that comes his way (the man can jump straight up in the air and catch a ball a gazillion feet over his head!!!) and the power to hit balls further than the pitching mound. Me, not so much.

 

But it was all in the name of Jesus - aside from the two brothers that almost got in a fight and the team that argued against our one-run win.

 

Ahhh...church league ball. Such good, clean fellowship.

Coming soon - a secret mission that's not going to be secret because I need the accountability. My 30th birthday is coming up soon (EEKKKK!!!) and I'm on a quest. It's something that The Husband said I will not be able to accomplish, so that makes this even more of a I-have-to-do-this-for-real-and-forever-amen thing. I'm calling it 30x30, and it starts Monday. Details soon!

The One with the Vacation

My first semester of nursing school is over (crazy!!), and now I'm embarking upon the most wonderful 2.5 weeks of my life.

 

Vacation.

 

It's so liberating to actually have multiple days off that are free. This is the first time since the summer of 2002 that I haven't had to fill out a form for vacation days or personal days or call in sick just to sleep in.

 

Not that I ever did that or anything.

 

I finished my last final at 8:45am on Wednesday, jumped into the car and headed straight for the Lake.

 

The most strenuous thing I've done so far involved having to get up from the deck chair to change into my swimsuit to head down to the pool. 

 

Uggghhh. So stressful.  

 

I'm almost feeling too lazy to blog.

 

I have a couple vacation goals: get a tan, read books that don't require post-it tabs and a highlighter, and run EVERY day (4 miles this morning!). This girl is WAY not in shape anymore. Sitting through six hours of lecture every day do not do pretty things for your butt. I owe it to my thighs to pay some attention to them before I find myself back in class for another four months.

 

Speaking of getting in shape, M and I are currently doing the exact opposite right now. After a nutritious dinner of a frozen-custard Kit-Kat concrete, we're now sacked out on the couch watching reruns of Bones.

 

I wish mom and dad could be here with us. They were planning on being here tonight through the rest of the weekend since it's dad's weekend off, but due to a tragedy that happened yesterday, they didn't think it would be a good idea to head off for a weekend of boating and BBQ.

 

If you've watched the news in the past 24 hours, you've probably heard about the horrific accident on 1-44 involving a semi-truck, pickup and two school buses. Here's a link- the story is so sad. It's awful. I drive that stretch of road every day to get to school, and I can totally see how easy it would be to wreck there. Lots of construction, lots of curves in the road, and the traffic will move fast one minute and slam on the brakes the next. It's ridiculous and very dangerous, and you constantly have to stay alert. The driver of the pickup truck - 19-year-old Daniel Schatz - was from my hometown. He's a good 10 years younger than me and I don't really remember him, but his parents go to church with my parents. Mom told me today that the entire church is just devastated. Daniel was a good kid and apparently a great football player. I told M today that Daniel was a walk-on quarterback for Mizzou, and he said that he remembers hearing about an incredible Sullivan football player a couple years ago - M's pretty sure that Daniel was talked about pretty favorably in sports circles. There's a candlelight vigil going on right now on the SHS football field in memory of Daniel. Please just keep this family and town in your prayers, as well as everyone else who was involved.

 

As a Baseball Wife, it scares me to death to see accidents like this that involve school buses. I have a recurring nightmare that M won't return home from away baseball games - he has to ride the bus with the team, and of course they play all the schools that are gazillion miles away on the most curvy roads in the entire nation. The Night of the Tornadoes a couple years ago did nothing to alleviate my fears - the bus was headed straight towards the storm and I couldn't get a hold of M. Later, of course, he acted like it was no big deal. No big deal to him, maybe, but I paced a hole in the living room carpet and made all sorts of incoherent bargains with God.

 

I think the only reason he returned home safe was because God didn't want to deal with my ramblings anymore. For real, Child. Hush up. You're driving me crazy. He's on his way home. For the love. Shut it already.

 

Speaking of baseball, it starts all over again on Monday. The following week, M has teacher meetings and -gasp- school starts again for him. I don't know why that's so traumatic - he's a PE teacher. It's like vacation never ended, right? Oh wait. Except for the not sleeping in till noon thing. I guess I'll have to do that for him. Hee hee!

 

Today I love: napping in the sun and actually having time to sit and enjoy a cup of coffee.