Getting Wet with The Write Woman (339 Days Left to Tackle)

So how was your weekend? In case you’re thinking it was a bit questionable, consider an eight-year-old girl explaining she is familiar with what a hypocrite is and then telling you it is a cricket with huge hips. (That wouldn't be so easy to consumer in an insect eating contest.) I suppose in Nikki’s little world a hypocrite makes sense in being a bug. I’m still scratching my head while she’s rolling across the floor laughing. Welcome to my world.

Nikki toughed it out with her Cocoa Puffs in one hand, umbrella in the other.

Cameron was totally psyched to play soccer Saturday, especially when he the game would continue despite the rain. The rain came down in torrents harder and faster than I can recall for a long time, all through the night. The flood waters didn’t cease by morning, but the coach declared real players would battle the weather. I wasn’t that concerned with Cameron as much as I was with Nikki and myself. If someone had placed a sieve on our heads and filled it with sand, we may have located a few rare coins. We vibrated.

The hot pink and violet clad girls were kicking that ball relentlessly.

We got there early enough to see the last game finish up. Fluorescent pink and opposing purple jerseys alerted us to a female team tearing up the grass and grinding their elbows into the mud with the best of ‘em. These girls were shivering and murky messes by the time they left. Then it was time for Cameron to show his true colors and he was psyched. Unfortunately, the coach came over and asked if we had any objections to cutting the game to a short scrimmage because the other team was for it. Since our team is creamed enough to add to a cup of coffee every week, it was a win-win situation.

The coach talking to a water-logged team with educational results.

The worst part about the game was that I had a pretty bad cold coming on. You know the type I mean, runny nose and sneezing fits of ten to twelve sneezes, unable to catch your breath, much less open your eyes. You’re probably fit and young, but let me tell you one of the first signs of losing your body’s virulence is dampening your pants when you sneeze wholeheartedly. My plan is to overcome old age by attending the gym and reinventing myself, so I will no longer need to sit on damp benches after sneezing, or wear weather resistant clothing.