Dear Mr.Baseball God Guy

I am seriously beginning to think that baseball season is delaying the onset of a Fall around here. Not global warming. Baseball. When is this season OVER already? The droning voice. The grody mouthpieces they sling in and out of the mouth with the tongue. The painstaking batting rituals. I can't take it anymore. And maybe, coming from Chicago and all, I am soooo over it since neither of our teams made it to the play-offs or whatever the heck they are called. I know- ultimately it's the World Series 750 or something or other. But I want football to start.
And after spending the weekend in the Wisconsin Northwoods, I am feeling pretty tough. (Well, sort of tough. Not exactly tough enough to sport my Bear's t-shirt deep in Packer land. I took it off after I brushed my teeth but before I walked outside.) And those baseball guys are just lame to me now.
But anyway- I like what football season means. Chili. Sunday papers. Cozy sweatshirts and oddly enough.. baseball hats with football logos. Jeans and relaxing Sunday afternoons.
Here in the midwest, I have always lived under the assumption that school was "off" for the summer so the kids could help on the farm. And you could plant AND harvest the crops in the interim of the school break. Meaning when school started back up, it was cool out. Or at least not HOT.
But not now!
There are still 70 plus degree days. I am scouring my closet for short sleeved Fall shades of summer style shirts. I am staring out the window dreaming of the beach while finishing up the first quarter of school, and it's October! I am unable to wear any Bear's clothes because they are dark and long-sleeved and it's hot. There are no cozy Football Sundays because we have our sliding doors open and I hear the airplanes. There is no chili because I would still rather be eating ice cream.
So please, Mr. Baseball God. Make it end soon. Leave me and my Fall weather and my coolish football season alone.
Thanks very much.

Boxing in MY House?

We decided, or rather the local economy decided, that we would be staying in our two bedroom condo, indefintely. Our dreams of a yard and a garage within 50 yards that is not TANDEM ( seriously, if you think that through, you can imagine the HUGE pain it is ) have come crashing down faster than you can say: we can barely pay our mortage.
In order to make do, we have decided that the mish-mosh of a second bedroom needed to be utilized as more than a freshly painted and carpeted storage closet. Because you very well know that when you give up and throw in the towel on the purpose of a room, disaster ensues. Paint easel, computer, files, clothes, camping gear, luggage, guitar ( that one lesson I took was really fun! ) vacuum, library, gift-wrap. You name it, it found it's home in the second bedroom. And because I "get" most of the rest of the house ( as in kitchen, large closet, MOST cabinets and dining room ) as MY space, I couldn't help but feel that maybe a stroke of man in the we-can-close-the-door-when-guests-come second bedroom might be the fair thing to do. That and I overhead him saying it.
So for the last couple of weeks, we have talked about what to do. My thoughts were second bedroom. Because it's a second bedroom. I figured a TV and a futon and we were money. But my husband had other ideas. Boxing arena. So in a moment of love I said sure... what do we need?
On Wednesday a hugungous box came from FedEx with a punching bag inside. And suddenly it all became very real. I was going to have a one bedroom two full bath condo with a boxing ring. And I have to admit, after the dust settled in my brain, I began to really like the idea. Embrace it in fact. And by Saturday morning I was slinging crap into the garbage bin with the best of 'em. And I found myself hopping in the truck for the ride when we realized that the water you dump into the base of the free-standing punching bag would not be heavy enough for my former boxer husband and we needed to go and get sand... which for those who care water weighs 10 pounds for a gallon and the sand would weigh 15. SO, as you can clearly see we needed the sand.
And then we went to Dick's and because I trust my husband completely when he says he will train me I excitedly picked up my own pair of pink boxing gloves. And I love them. And can't you see how great this will be for our marriage?
And while I don't think the second bedroom looks better,per se, it sits well with me that it finally has a purpose.

The 2008 Olympics

Okay, so I can no longer resist.

Last night- while watching the Olympics with my husband, I exclaimed to him that the male runners outfits were distracting and I was having a difficult time of not focusing on the frank and beans. I feel the same way about women's volleyball. BEACH volleyball. Are we not all just waiting for one of the "girls" to pop out? There are some other sports too, that I am not sure I really "get" the outfit and how it actually contributes to the execution of the game. But basically, some of these lycra stretchy type things are distracting to me. My mind drifts into what I might look like in such an outfit. That would be a hilarious sight. I envision something similar to Horton. The Who-hearing elephant.

Regardless, I just clicked on the medal count. Looks like business as usual. We are thrashing the other countries. Which, if you have ever been in a less developed foreign country during the Olympics, I am sure you noted that while we pride ourselves on licking the medal bowl clean, they have far fewer goals and lower expectations. They are happy to win in one of the sports they CHOSE to send representation to compete in- not every single one. It's a more focused effort for sure. They, for Americans who are not aware of this fact, could care less that we insist on creaming in the overall. They don't LOOK UP TO YOU. Or US. They are still proud. And we ususally still win.

I digress. Seems to me that somebody must have had something to do with the way we represent our wins on the internet chart. It's tilted to represent the US as on top. NOT TRUE!
China is killing us in the Golds- our measly 30 is nothing to thier 47. Granted we have more Bronze, but who cares?

I don't care who wins the most medals. I like the Olympics and I like the pride I get for cheering on our athletes. And while I hope we compete well, I also hope we don't do whatever it is to cheat ourselves into thinking we are the best when we are clearly not. It takes the fun out of it.