Sometimes You Need a Slice of Chocolate Pecan Pie

I should’ve known that since I’d had a wonderfully, relaxing Labor Day weekend, followed by a three-day work week, had attended the best concert I’ve ever seen and had participated in the best capoeira performance ever that the week following all that joy would be painful.  Literally. Monday was the first day of spirit week, when we showed our school spirit by dressing up as a Hollywood star;  so I dressed up as “Storm” from the Xmen in order to show that I was Halle Berry.  Granted, my white wig was a little discolored and my cape was a bit raggedy since that’s been my fall back Halloween costume for years, but the students and my colleagues loved it.  Capoeira training later that night was quite good as well. I had no major body pain and trained with my former intensity before I’d started experiencing the middle age back blues.

By Tuesday, a lot of bureacratic bullshit had taken a hold of me. It was all I could do to get to a good stopping point at work and drive to a diner to eat before attending my monthly Romantic Writers’ meeting. I was in luck since the special was chicken and dumplings and they offered chocolate pecan pie as one of their desserts.  It should go without saying that I had my “medicine” aka a glass of red wine in addition to every other culinary delight.

Our meeting was entertaining and informative as they usually are and I left feeling good. That night, I woke up in the middle of the night in what was the closest to a panic attack as I’ve ever come.  I hadn’t broken out into a sweat nor was my heart racing, but I couldn’t go back to sleep. 

I dragged ass at school the next day.I entertained the thought of going into the first hour of the two-hour capoeira training, but figured that getting an extra hour of sleep would serve me better since the twenty-minute drive home from work was a waking challenge.  Besides, now that my capoeira group offered classes  on Saturdays, I’d still get my second day of training then.

Once over the hump, I sailed into the weekend, exhausted, but I still attended my Friday night bikram yoga class, which was not overcrowded since many people were at ACL.

I incorrectly figured that I’d sleep like a baby, but once again, I woke up in the middle of the night.  This time, a normal, random dream turned into a nightmare.  I dreamed that my students were watching a movie that I had not authorized. When I asked them what they were watching, they told me it was a remake of “Invasion of the Body Snatchers.” I told them that the original with Donald Sutherland was better.  Then, my mind kept replaying the ending of that movie.

That’s when I finally woke up. I’ve tried to figure out the significance of that dream since I’m currently reading a dream interpretation book, but the best I can come of with is that my fear at work is becoming a teaching robot who uses scripted lessons rather than being the creative teacher that I’ve always been before moving to TX. In my dream, “robot” changed to “pod person.”

At least I returned to sleep and had a wonderful Saturday complete with painting before both capoeira and tango classes, then hanging with friends to watch a pay-per-view boxing match and later salsa dancing.  Despite all those wonderful activities, I still had an anxiety dream.  Even though this was pretty mild compared to the other anxiety-producing dreams, this dream made me anxious because I had changed money from US currency to a foreign currency.  My biggest concern was the locals discovering that I had such a wad of money on me.  I divided up the money and put it in two different places in my purse, then I went with a friend to go shopping.  I don’t think that in real life, I know who the “friend” was and I don’t recall what I was shopping for, but I did manage to secure the money.

I can interpret that dream two ways.  The first way is that since I’ve self-published my first novel, Tribe of One, I have dabbled into being a small business woman.  As a matter of fact, my latest pursuit will be attending a free two-hour seminar about how to start or run a small business.

The second, longshot interpretation is working outside the States again.  Eleven out of sixteen of my teaching years have been outside of the States; so the foreign money could be a sign of making money out of the States since I’ve done that before.

Nonetheless, my daily barometer continues to be my happiness. I usually guide how much I can humanly do in any given day based on how much time I have to do things and go from there.  Now that my emotional pendulum has swung back and forth, perhaps this week will be “normal.”

Sade/John Legend Concert

Back in July when I first saw that Sade and John Legend were performing in Austin on my 41st birthday, I knew I was going to attend. Unlike last year, I chose to have a simple birthday celebration instead of a whole day’s itinerary, inviting friends to join me in various activities.

Although I would have been perfectly happy to witness what turned out to be the best concert I’ve ever seen from the comforts of the nosebleed seats, my friend who is far more into the music scene (and has more disposable income!) insisted that we get the “good seats” and as a birthday present to me, paid the difference of my “top price” to pay for any concert ticket.

What can I say? It’s wonderful to have friends who are better paid than the typical public school teacher salary! We had fantastic seats on the lowest risers near the floor seats, but with the luxury of not being on the floor. That way, no matter whether the people on the floor stood or sat, they did not block our view.  I actually find it funny that floor seats cost the most money and, for my temperament, would cause me the most frustration.

The concert was delayed for “safety reasons,” but I was not the least bit upset since I had good company and the energetic buzz of the venue was wonderful.  As a matter of fact, I’d not seen that many black people gathered in one place in Austin before.  Nonetheless, we were STILL in the minority.

John Legend came out in a delicious-looking cream colored suit and covered Adele’s “Rolling in the Deep,” adding his own special magic to it. I’m not as familiar with his music as I am with Sade’s, but I still enjoyed the richness of his voice. My friend, the armchair music critic, commented that the sound was “off.” I hadn’t noticed it except that by the second song, I fought off the urge to put my earplugs in. Afterwards, he switched into more of a crooner mode and I no longer had the need for earplugs and my friend stated that Legend should stick to that style of music.

I sensed that Legend was coming close to the end of his performance; so I trekked up the stadium stairs to use the bathroom.  I figured that missing the last bit of his set was not as detrimental as missing a single moment of Sade. Of course, he sang “Greenlight” while I was in the bathroom, but the silver lining is that I’ve not been so beautifully serenaded while using the bathroom.

A sheer curtain surrounded the stage as they changed the sets between performances. Some of us in the crowd made a joyful trip down memory lane as music from A Tribe Called Quest, Tupac and Notorious B.I.G. Yet, when the house lights dimmed and the stage lights slowly arose, we all cheered to see Sade arising from below the stage.

The sheer curtains shot back diagonally as if they were fleeing spirits. The crowd, myself included, shouted in surprise. Her opening song was “Soldier of Love” and she looked like an attractive soldier dressed in a black pantsuit with stylish black heels–which she promptly switched out of in favor of more comfortable footwear as her first of several dress changes.

Throughout the concert, I was mesmerized by the lighting and video projections.  The biggest screen at the back of the stage, normally showed pre-recorded images that enhanced whichever song they were performing.  The two smaller side screens usually showed a close up of something that was happening on the stage.

At one point, a thin see-through veil enveloped the stage and projected image of a road and trees were shown on the big screen and the veil.  If one looked at a side screen, then the image came together of Sade walking down the middle of a tree-lined road.  Iwas just blown away.

During the band’s “intermission,” the instruments were subtly lowered into the stage as the stage lights dimmed and the big screen showed a mini-movie intro leading up to “Diamond Life.” Although there was no one on stage, the voice over, which sounded similar to a Mickey Spillane tale, entertained the audience.  Iwas riveted since I did not know what to expect next.

I’ve just never witnessed such a theatrical concert that combined so many high tech aspects, but did not seem cluttered or drown out her beautiful sultry voice.

The bar has definitely been raised as far as the next concert is concerned.  That would be Meshell Ndegeocello.  She’s another sultry-voiced woman.  She’s also a sensational bassist; so I’ll see how enthralling her performance will be compared to Sade’s.  I know that it is not fair to compare the two, but I know I’ll do it subconsciously.

Labor Day Weekend 2011

I cannot remember the last time I spent both a Friday and Saturday night at home…even during the two and half months when I first moved to Austin and was unemployed, I managed to go out to the free events.

Yet, after work on Friday, I swam laps, came home, warmed up dinner and finished watching a movie that I’d started the night before.

Saturday morning, I took a capoeira class, came home to freshen up and eat lunch, then took two tango classes. That was particularly touching since I’d taken tango lessons for over a year before taking a three-month break.  I stayed away long enough to miss it. Fortunately, I attended the second class and learned that one of our tangueras was returning to her native country, France.  So, I got to say good bye to her.

Then, I dashed over to my favorite nail shop.  Although it was a risk without an appointment during a holiday weekend, I was not disappointed.  There were three guys and two women ahead of me. They were all friends and since we had to wait, some of them decided to make a drink run.

They returned with two bottles of champagne, a bottle of OJ, and a bottle of cranberry juice.  And the best part, they shared! So, it was like being at happy hour in the nail shop. I sipped my chilled poinsettia (champagne and cranberry) while talking to them and thumbing through the magazine I’d brought.  By the time I returned home, I felt that I’d already met my social quota and it was only 7pm.

Of course, one of the things that I love doing the most is just taking a few hours to read. I never know what will inspire me to add to the story that I’m writing or in a future lesson plan.

As a matter of fact, I think the reason I’m much happier in the classroom this year is because I’m back to writing all my lessons.  The most I’ve used of someone else’s stuff is a quiz, which I still went through and modified some things.  I’m so fortunate to teach upperclassmen and have an elective course with no official curriculum.  That way, I have a creative challenge to keep me on my game.  The way I see it, I’ll save myself a trip to mediocre-ville if I’m actively engaged in the fine art of lesson planning.

Tomorrow, I’m going to a BBQ, hosted by my capoeira teacher.  I’d like to say that I instigated the whole thing although, truthfully, this group gets together on a regular basis.  It’s just that I’ve had the idea of making a cheesecake and decorating it with fresh fruit in the shape of the Brazilian flag for a couple of months now.  I baked the dessert today, but I’m waiting until tomorrow to put the fruit on it.  I’ve never done that before and don’t exactly know how that’ll affect it…I could always research it, I guess.

Gymnastics of Natural Disasters

This morning, I attended my usual 10 am bikram yoga class.  The instructor welcomed us to class and stated that we must have come to practice hot yoga in order to cool off! After completing yet another invigorating bikram class, I confirmed that today’s scorcher would top 100 degrees, the maximum temperature for bikram yoga. We’ve broken the 1925 record for the number of triple-digit days in one year.

As if going to bikram was not hot enough for me, I finished cleaning my apartment, got myself cleaned up and attended the Hot Sauce Festival. By the time I arrived, I was too hungry to wait in the long lines to sample the various hot sauces.  Instead, I scanned the food vendor area, saw the shortest line and jumped in it.  Fortunately, the vendor was an Ethiopian restaurant that I’d wanted to try since moving to Austin.

With my sampler plate of Ethiopian food and an electrolyte that scarcely suggested “lemonade,” I sat down in the shade, near the live music stage, to slowly begin my second major sweat of the day. I had impeccable timing since my friend’s band was setting up to play.

As best I could, I enjoyed the food, music and fact that I was not stressed out. I couldn’t help but think about the chronic droughts here in Austin.  In order not to throw myself a pity party, I thought about the poor East coast, which first had an earthquake, followed by a hurricane and subsequent floods in some parts.

I called my parents, who live in the central part of North Carolina, to see how hurricane Irene was treating them.  I became concerned when a recorded message informed me that the number I’d just dialed was no longer in service. That number had been in service since 1979 when my parents bought the house and was one of two land line numbers that I had committed to memory.

I called my mother’s cell.  To my relief, the phone was not out of order due to any natural disaster, but rather my parents, who are both in their 70s, had finally got Dad his own cell and let go of the land line.  Of course, I had to find all that out the hard way.  The last time I’d spoken with them, they were just thinking about doing that.  I did not think that in as little time as a week, they’d actually have followed through on the idea.  I expected at least a month or two of hemming and hawing.

Mom told me that the hurricane just brought some rain their way, but nothing serious.  As a matter of fact, the earthquake had been more dramatic, but not for her.  She had recently undergone knee surgery and had been doped up on percocet.  So when Dad asked her if she had seen things on the shelf shaking, she said, “Oh, I thought was just the percocet. I’ve been seeing things shake for a couple of days!”

And maintaining a good sense of humor is just one of the ways they’ve been married for 50 years. 

As we ease into the school year, I can only hope that none of the collective natural disasters interferes with classes.  I’m mildly concerned about water shortages.  Just walking down the unair-conditioned hallways breaks me into a sweat. Too bad I cannot put down a yoga mat and do 90 minutes of bikram with the students. 

Starting School

I’ve definitely ended my fantastic summer vacation the right way–by looking forward to the upcoming new school year with as much ease as I possibly can. My classroom is as decorated as I want it to be, I’ve got lesson plans for the first week and I’ve previewed my class rosters.  The most important thing is that I’ve not worked this weekend.

It’s always a wonderful thing to relax, destress and return to work refreshed and full of creative ideas.  Although I certainly don’t agree with some of the practices that are done in the name of the all mighty standardized tests (this year, we’ll have more assessments than “normal” since we’re phasing out one and phasing in another),  but I’ve written a handful of lesson plans already and I’m excited to get into that groove again.  Since we’re on block scheduling, I only have to write six lessons a week versus ten since I have two preps.

Last year, I hung up several pieces of decorative cloth that I collected from my life of teaching and traveling abroad.  I’ve decided to go with that theme again, but I’ve only decorated the front of my classroom so I can dedicate the rest of my wall space to student work. It’ll just be easier to display their creations without my decorations interrupting.

Some people were referring to this weekend as the last “free” weekend, but I disagree with seeing school as something negative.  I like vacation as much as the next person, but I also know that I can still have an enjoyable social life, especially while living in a happening town like Austin.

As a matter of fact, on the evening of the first day of school, I’m going to an interesting potluck dinner hosted by some local artists I’ve not seen in a long time, meeting a friend for dinner at one of my favorite soul food restaurants later on in the week, going to hear the Buena Vista Social Club on Friday and going downtown to celebrate a friend’s birthday on Saturday night.

And whynot?  When I’m at school, I’m the picture of organization, creative energy and efficiency.  Outside of school, I must relax, recharge my batteries and interact with the rest of society. I get most of my best ideas when I’m either exercising, especially swimming, or attending a cultural event. 

At the same time, on school nights, I make sure I get to bed at a reasonable hour in order to get my 7 to 8 hours of sleep.  There are many delusional people who believe that they can do “just fine” with fewer hours of sleep, but I cannot think of anyone who suffers from that delusion and doesn’t get jacked up on caffeine and/or sugar in order to function.

At my age, 40.9, I stick to doing things the natural route since any shortcut I take as far as diet, exercise or sleep will negatively affect my lower back.  That has been a consistent source of pain for me. I hold stress in my shoulders, jaws and lower back.  I’ve gotten better about not hunching my shoulders, but I still have to wear a nightguard. So far, yoga and chiropractic treatment have just started to chip away at my cemented lo back–just in time for school.

Back to School: The Soft Opening

During the middle of the summer, I thought I would burst into tears when this day had finally come, but I’m remarkably at peace with going back to school tomorrow.  Granted, it’ll be orientation week, which means that I’ll be semi-vacationing without students. Plus, I’ll be able to enjoy at least an hour-long lunch, unlike the 38-minute lunch we teachers are scheduled once the students return.

Unlike any other summer vacation in the past, I spent this one as a full-time writer, complete with making a fact-finding trip to Utila, a Honduran Caribbean island, which is the scene of my second novel, The Adventures of Infinity and Negativa. Not spending the summer moving into a new apt, working or studying has truly allowed me to unwind and get the stress out of my muscles.  I’ve even started going to yoga twice a week to aid the process, but truthfully, my middle-aged lower back has been my biggest motivator for that!

As is the case with most things in life, I’ll miss the little things: mid-afternoon naps, a glass of red wine with my 1 hour lunch, and going to the bathroom whenever I feel the need.  As much as I joke about wearing adult diapers so I can “go” whenever I want to, I’m not sure that I want the hassle of wearing one.  Besides, I usually keep myself in a state of partial dehydration and retrain my bowels not to move so freely after eating. That’s the trickiest thing to readjust to.  On the one hand, it’s not healthy, but it is necessary.

I’m sure some of my colleagues spent this weekend getting their classrooms together, but I’m going to start the new school year off right by not working on the weekends.  Part of the reason stress overtakes some teachers is that they don’t take the time to de-stress, thinking that they have to get ahead or catch up.  After teaching for 15 years, I know that I cannot be at my best without properly rested and as stress-free as I can manage. 

The first thing that goes out the window when stressed is creativity, whether it’s creative lesson planning or creative problem solving.  I learned early on by mistake that when I swam, I immediately felt more energized and as an extra perk, I intuited good solutions to problems.  Years later, I read a book on genius and discovered that other creative people would swim, drive, run or otherwise engage in a physical activity in order to intuit ideas, which is another good reason not to work longer hours. I can exercise and come up with creative ideas to implement in the classroom.

Teaching public school here in Texas makes implementation of creative ideas quite tricky, but the students are worth the effort.  Being happy with my job is worth the effort.  I just have to stick with a regular exercise schedule to come up with the creative solutions to make it possible.

Novel Research

Convenient enough, this week’s blog title is a double entendre since I visited Utila, a Honduran Caribbean island in order to do research for my second novel and this was the first time that I had done such a thing. If I were the least bit apprehensive, other than my brush with ESP about the flight itinerary fiasco last Monday, then my giddiness about my new venture was laid to rest.

Not only was Utila the lush, green beauty that I had remembered previously, but it had also changed.  The nuanced details that I gathered simply from being there in person are priceless.  I managed to conduct four formal interviews with my favorite new toy, a smart pen that records the conversation.  Everyone who I warned about the fact that my pen records, seemed rather impressed at such a piece of technology being used to conduct an interview.

I took pictures of the mundane as well as the spectacular during my five days on the island with the only notable exception being a yearly “underground electronic” music event known as Sunjam.  Among other restricted items, event goers could not bring a camera or cellphones or anyother image-recording recording device.  I had to take more notes during my four hours on the rented island where Sunjam took place than at any other location.

At one point, I saw four out-of-place looking older gentlemen.  They weren’t exactly dressed in three piece suits, but still had that aurora about them.  And stereotypically, the tallest man in the foursome was obviously the one in charge to which the others deferred.  I kept my eyes on them as the tallest man, who happened to be Honduran, walked slowly around, leading the other three men and pointing things out.  I waited until they made their way in my direction and took the opportunity to approach them.  I figured that they had been on the island about thirty minutes discussing things in their tight little circle of four and wouldn’t mind too terribly if I asked a question.

“Excuse me, are you one of the event organizers?” I asked the tall Honduran man with my nicest, most nervous smile. He politely informed me that he was a commissioner. I nodded in acknowledgement and continued to hand him one of my business cards, explaining that I was a novelist and I had wanted to interview one of the organizers to get some background information about Sunjam.  At that point, two of beta males looked around and one of them told me that when he saw one of the organizers, he’d point him in my direction for an interview.  I thanked him.  Before I returned to my palm tree to sit down, the commissioner handed me one of his business cards in return.

Not ten minutes had passed before I was introduced to Luis Maier, a promoter based out of Tegus who, together with his partner who owns a dive shop in Utila, had started this event 15 years ago.  He graciously granted me an interview, not at all minding that my smart pen was a recording device.  I just marveled at how with just a little initiative on my part, I found myself interviewing one of the top guys. 

I must admit that a combination of my “star struck-ness” and inexperience at interviewing, I missed asking some of the obvious questions, but fortunately, I was able to glean more information from the official Sunjam website.

I dedicated about a fifth of all the pictures I took to my gloriously named room at the surreal Jade Seahorse hotel, Shangri-La.  What a joy it was for the five days that I spent in Utila to return to that place.  During my first visit to Utila, I’d taken many pictures of the grounds, but this time around, I actually stayed there and dedicated all my picture taking to my room.

Now, I’m en route to the States, but I have to first spend a day on mainland Honduras. I had caught an earlier ferry than the original one I’d planned to take, thanks to the additional transportation that Sunjam caused. I’ve finally managed to escape the airport in La Ceiba, which is by far the worst of the three mainland airports.  Due to incompetence on part of the Taca Airline people working the desk, I had to pass through security a whopping four times since, for one reason or another, they kept messing up my flight information and had to issue me boarding passes three times!

Nonetheless, I don’t want to end this blog in a negative note since it’s suffice to say that I’ll never fly Taca again.  What I plan to do once I’m back in Austin is to work on my novel for several hours a day, incorporating all the delicious details that I’ve gathered through traveling and interviewing people.

Utila or Bust!

Normally, when I’m about to visit a Caribbean island, I excitedly count down the days.  This time, however, I’ve been cringing the coming days.  I’m not sure if this is a self-fulfilling prophecy or a rare psychic moment, but starting on Friday, I’ve had one aggravating thing after another happen.

First, I broke my blender.  Unfortunately, the broken part isn’t one of the many parts that can be ordered and replaced.   The blender motor no longer works and for that, there’s no authorized repair place in town and even if I send it back to the manufacturer, I have to pay for everything since it’s no longer under waranty.  I spent an incredible amount of time looking up small appliance repair places and the only one that was open on a Saturday didn’t fix blenders.  I have two more people to call, but neither work on the weekends. So, the broken blender dilemma must wait until I return. The worst case scenarios will be that I have to buy a new blender and/or try my hand at fixing it myself!

Then, my precious laptop, which is going to make life so much easier for me while writing and advancing my second novel started experiencing screen resolution problems.  I did a variety of things before I stumbled upon restoring the factory settings, which means that all the software that I had installed, I must reinstall.  Since it’s twenty minutes to eleven at night, I’m truly not excited about this.  I’m currently reinstalling my security software and the all important MS Office.  I’ll also have to reinstall my smart pen software, which is my new play toy.  I don’t dare do any of this while in Utila since, I’ve already learned from my vast overseas experience, some things cannot be downloaded while being in a developing country.  It’s best to get all these things squared away now.

In the meantime, I ran around town to put together my contribution to a 50th wedding anniversary gift for my parents.  That actually went pretty well, considering all the electronic device problems I’ve recently experienced. The most challenging thing was getting the oil pen to write.  Nonetheless, the picture frame that I decorated with it came out remarkably well without a hint of the frustration that has been building up the last 72 hours.

It’s a good thing that I don’t have to drive myself to the airport or fly the plane.  I predict that I’m going to have a restbroken sleep and perhaps forget to pack something vital although I’m about 99% packed.  Thank goodness I packed right after I finished cleaning up myself and my apartment after bikram yoga. 

It’ll actually be delightful to be at the airport since that’ll mean that I won’t have to run around or anything, just enjoy the traveling experience.  I initially thought that my forebroding feeling was nervousness about my research endeavor for my novel.  After this frustrating bout of bad luck, I’ll be happy enough to vacation and just incorporate whatever I happen to absorb without any more ambition than that!

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I knew it!  I knew it!  I knew it!  My foreboding feeling was confirmed in less than 12 hours after I blogged the preceding post.  I arrived at the airport in plenty of time to discover that TACA, the Honduran airline that was to be the carrier for the last half of my air travel to La Ceiba, had completely changed my itinerary and told NO ONE about the change. 

My Continental Airline ticket agent, together with an Orbitz agent, pieced together that although the original reservation that I’d made at the end of May still existed, TACA had switched the ticket a few days afterwards, much to all of our surprise.  So, now I already have my boarding pass for tomorrow at 7 am.

Yet the saga continues since TACA doesn’t want to book me in a hotel for a night.  Thanks to their new bookings of my return flight, I have to leave the beautiful, laid-back island of Utila a day earlier, spend the night in La Ceiba, then catch an early flight out.  My Orbitz agent gave me word that there’s a possibility of getting a later flight, which will mean that I get to spend my last night in Honduras on my island of choice, but a TACA representative will call me around 2pm today to let me know. 

I’ll give them until 2:30 before calling Orbitz again for a fourth time to let them continue negotiating for me.  The last Orbitz agent told me that she had documented everything and if TACA does not give me what I want in terms of a later flight or overnight in a decent hotel, then she encouraged me to call Orbitz again.

Ahh, excellent customer service!  Yet another thing that separates developed and developing countries.

New Beginnings

This week I celebrated the beginning of two very different things: a new capoeira studio and a marriage.  The interesting thing is how both events gathered well-wishing people together, brought out all the smiles and daydreams about all the good times that are to come.

Of course with my luck, I’m going to be out of town the first week when the capoeira classes start at the new studio and I’m going to miss my friend’s wedding, but at least I was present for the first roda at the new studio and the “pre-wedding girl party” for my friend, which started off at Barton Springs pool and ended at her house .

Funny thing, I have hardly ever come to our Thursday rodas since I don’t actually enjoy playing capoeira, but I absolutely love training, which keeps me in shape. Just like I have no intentions of marrying, but I love helping my friends celebrate their special occasion.

At both events, I took pictures.  As a matter of fact, I took 150 pictures at the roda since it was challenging to capture a good shot of the capoeiristas playing.  Whereas during my friend’s pre-wedding party, I got some good candid and posed shots once I selected the correct flash setting.

As I suspected when I was 35, I’m becoming increasingly sentimental as I age.  I feel so fortunate to have my life peppered with so many reasons to celebrate.  My father said during his 70th birthday celebration a few years ago that the key to living a good life was laughing a lot and being happy. Like father, like daughter.

Don’t Play Well with Balls

I’ve always thought of myself as the most uncoordinated person who was still motivated to do coordinated things. With lots of practice and determination, I’ve become quite decent at salsa dancing, swimming and training capoeira, but note how none of those coordinated activites involves balls.

I finally realized when I was a young adult that I don’t do well at any sport or game that involves balls.  And the more balls, the worse.  The last time I played pool, the only ball that I sank was the cue ball. The last time I bowled, I actually scored an impressive 133, but I shamelessly had the bumpers up.  I’ve tried to bowl like an adult before, but concluded that with my special spherically-challenged handicap, I earned the right for extra assistance in my game.

Excluding ball-based activities from my life has not blocked my happiness. I’ve happily taken advantage of many wonderful things in life where I did not have to dribble, shoot, bowl, throw, catch, pitch or hit any balls. Yet, I still practice eye-hand coordination when I paint; so I’m not exactly sure what’s the basis of my spherical challenge.

So it’s quite ironic that this past Saturday, in the heat of the day, I played soccer for the first time.  Granted, the field was one-fourth regulation size and we only had 15-minute playing halves with a 15-minute break in between, but I could not be told that it didn’t count as a full game.  I wanted to quit after the first half along with one member of the opposing team. We figured that the teams would still be equal.  Instead, we were convinced to play goalie. 

If ever I find myself in such a situation again, I’ll definitely play goalie again since I’m over all this running back and forth in the heat of the day.  Besides, I was pretty good at blocking potential goals, catching a few and swatting away others. I’m sure my goalie efforts helped my team win the game, 5-4.

As I watched the women’s US soccer team battle it out with the Japanese team, I could truly sympathize with their efforts.  I marveled at how much they ran around without becoming winded until the very end where they were unfortunately defeated. Everyone at my table seem defeated as well except for me.  That’s how I know I’m not at risk at becoming a sports fanatic.

As far as being a ball player…I’ve got a long way to go, but with my humble attitude about my skills, I’ll just have fun with my incompetencies.