Skip to main content

Dog Days of Summer

   As a hurricane nears ours shores and a faint, cool breeze blows the remnants of summer away, the Fall football season is upon us and with that comes football games, cheerleaders, and a strong need for a professional organizer and a personal dry cleaner armed with a "Tide To Go" stick.  Let me explain...
   My daughter is one of those cheerleaders and great effort has gone into preparations for our Fall kick off event known as "Dog Days" where kids are given their first opportunity to take to the football field and show the world their skills.   After selling hundreds of dollars worth of ads and bulldog magnets, securing just the right outfits with matching bows, t-shirts and rain gear, and paying for private lessons with Cirque du Soleil to perfect a tumbling pass on the sidelines, we were ready for Dog Days and all the joy that comes with it.    

   The afternoon of the event, my child was missing in action as she and her father were tooling around town running errands, sipping on snow cones and enjoying their afternoon without a care in the world.  They are much alike and operate in their own timezone, not shared with any other people that I know. Like a crazy woman, I tracked them down and redirected them back to our house so we could get ready and go.  In minutes, she was dressed, packed and out the door.

   As we arrived at the field, my daughter hopped out of the car with great excitement.  Before I could exit the vehicle, she had rounded the hood and was coming at me like a freight train with that look on her face of complete panic.  I've seen this look many times before and knew that it meant we had either forgotten something vitally important, I had just run over a kitten, or that I was about to be introduced to    some type of problem that would require precision time management skills and a race to some store twenty miles away. 

   This time, it was simply a bow we had forgotten, and I raced home to retrieve the black and silver hair accessory that went with her crisp, white uniform.  I had five minutes to drive ten miles and decided it would be wise to entertain moving closer to the school and save myself a nervous breakdown sure to be drawn out slowly over the next five years of school.     

   Back at the stadium again, the girls in white, ran off to practice and we took our places in the stands armed with a variety of cameras, zoom lenses and mobile upload devices.   It was sweltering hot as it had been all summer and the occasional hint of a breeze was a welcome relief. We had been in drought conditions for the past three months and I would like to state that the odds of locating a puddle of mud were a million to one, unless you were my child and you were dressed in a bright white, shiny uniform with matching bow.  It didn't take long before I spied her coming at me, once again, like a steaming freight train, seeking me out in the midst of a crowd, wearing that same look of panic.  I took a deep breath and waited to see what impossible task was about to be thrown at me in hopes of a quick resolution.  I heard the panic in her voice and sensed a tear in her eye as she called out "Mom!"    She looked perfectly fine, so I couldn't imagine what could be wrong, until she turned around and it was clear to all that she was covered in mud from the bottom of her skirt to her neckline.  "How?" is all I could muster up.  It had been over a hundred degrees for months.  There was no water anywhere around.  And yet, somehow, she had managed to tumble right into the only mud puddle within 500 miles.  With a precision landing, her feet stuck firmly in the small body of watery goo that instantly shot mud splatters straight up the backside of her crisp, clean uniform.   

   With no time to race home, I pulled her into the nearest restroom, stripped her of her muddy white uniform, hand-washed it in the sink, beat it against my own jeans to try to dry it as much as I could and sent her back out on the field.  No one would know that her uniform was soaking wet. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for me, as I took my place back in the stands looking like I had been hosed down from my waist to my knees.   Eventually, Dog Days began and as the band marched around the field and the teams took their places, I looked out and saw both of my children, all of their friends and a sea of proud parents, none of whom would be focused on my child's wet uniform.  I settled back and settled down and enjoyed the show!

   Before the first game is upon us, I know that we must come up with a better plan that places both of us in the same timezone with a pre-flight checklist we should review before leaving the house.  I cannot continue to race against traffic or take over public restrooms without prematurely aging and knocking off years of my life.  It's time to truly get in the game.



Popular posts from this blog

The Mink That Made Its Way Home

             When I was five years old, my grandmother would care for me before school each day.  She would turn the stereo console on and play big band music from the 40's.  I remember dressing up in her mink stole as we danced around the living room spinning and twirling to the classics.  She told me that one day the mink would be mine and I hoped that I would be as beautiful as she was wrapped in luxurious mink.     Time, of course, came and went and my grandmother passed away many years ago.  I have often wondered what happened to her mink stole and wished that I could wear it just one more time.  Little did I know, my grandmother had given the stole to her daughter and sometime during the early 80's when fur was not fashionable and we were wearing hideous things like leather pants and spandex, my aunt tossed the mink into the Goodwill bin near her home. She did not know that anyone actually wanted the mink and donated it to charity.  She told me she remembers lo

Peace, Love and What???

  There is nothing more precious than child innocence.  While it appears that this message may, indeed, be upside down, it seems that an upended pink ribbon is a call for better testing for earlier detection of breast cancer.  Who better to deliver such a message than a group of young girls with bright futures ahead of them?  While my daughter actually has no idea that she is holding the poster upside down, her mistake quietly sends a much more powerful message across this field. Who knows, but any one of these young ladies, excited about their part in participating in a campaign of hope, could go on to be the one to discover just such a test or cure.   So even if the symbols are upside down, or even fall to the ground, our youth are learning to be a part of something bigger than themselves and might just one day deliver this message exactly as they innocently displayed this Fall day in their youth.   Picture by Kathi Kolb

Snapped Rabbit

Photo Courtesy of Hershey's    There is almost no greater joy than the pure chocolaty goodness that lies in the rectangular patterns of a Hershey’s bar.  While some people enjoy cigarettes or liquor or even illegal drugs of choice, my addiction lies in the innocence of a candy bar.  It is something that is enjoyed in small pieces, savored, one rectangle at a time.  Whatever genius designed this heavenly creation, divided the bar into 12 miniature rectangles, all looking like a small version of the whole.  It’s mind boggling if you really think about it.  It’s much like putting two mirrors together and seeing into infinity.  With each bite of Hershey’s bar you find more rectangles calling your name.   A wise person knows not to listen to their sirens call, but to snap off only one or two pieces and move on without looking back.   Photo Courtesy of B Jobse    My children know the power of the Hershey’s bar and fully understand that stressful events can bring on the dippi