Monday, October 02, 2006

Home is where I want to be

Homecoming at the high school Friday night. Mrs. A had dolled up a stuffed lion for the Youngest Aardvark Child to take to school on Friday. Since the YAC is in the band, she couldn’t take it with her to the game, so Mrs. A took it. I kept expecting her to hand it off to the YAC after halftime, but the lion stayed with us the whole game. I’m still a little confused as to why Mrs. A needed a stuffed lion with ribbons and cowbells (MORE COWBELL!!!) and such, but I find it’s best just to do as I’m told and not ask too many questions.

Since Mrs. A is still using the crutches when she’s out and about, we sat down low in the bleachers right next to an entrance/exit. The metal bleachers are poorly designed and as a result the first step is out in the walkway. I wish I had $1 for every time someone tripped over that step – then I could pay for someone to extend the handrail down another foot to keep people from tripping over it.

Sitting by the entrance like that is always entertaining. Especially amusing are the folks that show up mid-way through the second quarter – of Homecoming, mind you – and expect there to be four open seats on the 40 yard line.

Our boys played well enough to win. Too bad our coach is confused about the role of time-outs in clock management. Mostly, when it’s under a minute and the clock is running and the other team needs to score to win, it’s probably not your best move to call time-out and stop the clock. Twice. Naturally, with OUR two time-outs and their two-time outs, the other team had just enough time to score and win. In pondering it, I’ve come to the conclusion that when you’re a small-time school you should only expect to attract and retain small-time coaches…and there are good reasons these coaches are small-time. The only up-side is that the other small-time schools we play are similarly blessed.

I was handed the camera and instructed to go take pictures of the band. I pointed out to Mrs. A that she wouldn’t be able to tell the difference in this week’s pictures from the ones taken last week. She was not amused. Rubbing the bump on the back of my head, I went and took pictures. They turned out pretty good too.

The redneck is alive and well in Texas. Shoot-fire.

I was amazed and appalled by the number of lips, eyebrows, tongues, noses and cheeks that the young folks are sporting hardware in these days. To which, I might add (though I shouldn’t), I can only say thank goodness they weren’t showing ALL of their hardware. It’s gotten to the point where I don’t know if they’re doing it to stand out or to blend in. I will tell you that it disgusts me while simultaneously fascinating me. Like a train wreck, you don’t want to see, but can’t look away. Then there’s the eight year old boy who has a nice diamond stud in one ear. Makes me want to smack his parents. I can hear my Dad’s voice in my head and I’m not going to share what it’s saying.

Two words of advice for the teen-aged boy:

1. When being presented as part of the Homecoming Court, it’s not a good idea, while all eyes are on you, to take the opportunity to spit.

2. If you must spit, at least make it worthwhile. Do not attempt that little pathetic dribble thing where you have to wipe your chin to make sure none of it got on you. I’m just sayin’.

  • |