Everything's Coming Up Penises!

 You know when a common theme just keeps popping up (snicker) in every area of your life? Sometimes I'm reading two books that ostensibly have nothing to do with each other, and the same German philosopher is mentioned. Sometimes everyone I meet in a day has something wrong with their foot. It's a funny kind of synchronicity that means nothing but always amuses and delights me anyway.

A couple of weeks ago, my personal zeitgeist went completely phallic.

First, it was book club. My friend Sharon, a freelance writer, volunteered that she was doing some work involving the San Francisco Healthy Penis Project, which is focused on raising awareness of syphilis and persuading gay and bisexual men to get tested. Along with lists of clinics and super-fun comic strip ads like these,



there were also people wandering the streets of the Castro (SF's gay district) wearing seven-foot-tall penis costumes.

Apparently the campaign has also been used in other parts of California, and in Winnipeg here in Canada, where I assume the seven-foot-tall penises are wearing parkas, or a lot of mosquito repellent.

(Shut up, Pedro! HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA).























Later in the week, it was beer-and-fifty-cent-wings night with our crew at Johnny Canucks. The topic of circumcision came up, and my friend said her husband was of the opinion that circumcision was a Catholic tradition as well as a Jewish one, because all the Catholic men of his age that he knew were circumcised. I said that I didn't think it had anything to do with Catholicism, but rather was the trend in hospitals and health care at that time. Being of curious mind, my friend did some research and emailed it out the next day. Since his inbox was filling up with "penis research", another friend graced us with the link to Double Dick Reddit Guy, so, you know, there went that afternoon.

Photo credit amy_buthod

Then Eve came home from school "totally traumatized" by the puberty unit in health class. She kept waving the penis diagram in my face and saying "WE HAVE TO NAME ALL THE PARTS!" She said they all felt really bad for Jonathan because he had to write the word 'penis' on the board. She regaled us with quotes from the antiquated video they were shown, where little Johnny asks his Uncle Pat what happens if his penis never gets any bigger, and hollered about fallopian tubes at random intervals. There was a quiz on the Friday, so every few hours we'd ask how her studying was going for the penis test. My mom and Marianna's grandmother tried the "why is it any different from talking about eyes, or elbows, or any other body part?" tactic, but I didn't even bother. Penises are funny. They just are.

So yeah, that week was a total ball (I kill me). On the week-end my husband came to bed and indicated some amorous intentions. I looked up from my book and saw that he had left the bedroom door open, and reminded him that Eve had just gone to bed one room away, and that she had probably had enough of penises for one seven-day period.

Skip this if you have anything important going on

I don't generally do the 'what do you think' post-ending thing. It's not because I'm against it. Often I appreciate it when other bloggers ask me what I think on the subject they're posting on (although when it has to do with books it's annoying because when somebody asks me "what's your favourite book?" or even "what are you reading?" my mind has this annoying habit of freezing in panic and refusing to cough up the title of a single book I've read, ever). I kind of assume that people will tell me what they think in the comments.

So, to be clear, this is a blatant and shameless post-generating gambit - it's Nablopomo, all's fair in love and daily blog-posting.

Angus is on the grade eight volleyball team at his school. He has the same coach he had last year for the grade seven team. I love this coach - he's enthusiastic, committed, puts in a ton of time, is demanding without being abusive, has given me zero cause for complaint.

This week-end the team is going to Toronto for a tournament. Driving down Friday morning, playing a game or two Friday evening, sleeping in a hotel, playing games all day Saturday, driving home Saturday night. Angus thinks it's the coolest thing ever.

The coach wants the boys to wear a shirt and tie on the drive down. This isn't totally new to me - we showed up at hockey tournaments with Angus in a shirt and tie, we go to baseball games in the summer with his jersey on a hanger, not to be put on until the game starts. I get that it's a thing. But for a four to five hour drive in the car? While sleeping and snacking might be taking place?

I sent a short email to the coach asking if maybe he'd rather they wear a t-shirt in the car and then put on the shirt and tie just before arriving. He sent one back saying in previous years they've always done it this way, the boys take pride in stopping for lunch dressed like this and other years he has never had any issues.

I had a brief moment of going hot-and-cold at the thought that I am now an "issue". Then I shook it off. I don't really have a horse in this race. I'm going to be in Barrie by the time they leave. Angus doesn't seem distressed at the thought. I have sensory issues, so the thought of wearing a shirt and tie or anything similarly confining on a long drive gives me the vapours, but he's not me. Angus tends to live in t-shirts and athletic pants, as I assume most of his friends do, and some practice at wearing grown-up clothes is likely not the worst idea ever

At the same time, I think it's a little silly. The boys "take pride" in going into McDonald's in shirts and ties (I don't know for a fact that it will be McDonald's, but it's ten 13 year old boys, so it's probably not going to be fine French cuisine). Look, it's your team, if this is what you want, just say it's what you want.

That's what I think, at first glance. If you feel like devoting a moment to this, whether you're a sports parent or not, what do you think?

Getting Out of my Own Way

Yesterday was supposed to be my day off. Eve had slept over at my Mom and Dad's on Friday night and was happily ensconced in Grandma-and-Poppa-land ("I had pancakes for breakfast and macaroni and cheese for lunch, and then I told Poppa that I had all my favourites except nachos. So he went to the grocery store."). Matt and Angus were at a baseball tournament. The weather was perfect -- sunny and breezy, not too hot.

photo credit
creative commons license

I slept in, had a shower, cleaned up the kitchen, did some laundry, read a bit. Then I tried to figure out what The Thing should be. The Thing that I did to make my day off count. So I wouldn't just fritter it away without due consideration. My husband accuses me of being terrible at Days Off; apparently I obsess and brood and overthink until nothing I do can possibly be good enough and I end up depressed and irritable instead of relaxed and refreshed. And to that I say -- well, nothing, he's totally right. So yesterday: I could have read more but I wanted to do something outside. I could have read in the backyard, but it's south-facing and fenced so it was pretty hot back there. I thought about going for a walk, but I was kind of lonely.
It would have been a perfect day for sitting in someone's backyard or at a cottage -- you know, lawn chairs, drinks, talking, laughing, kids running around yelling happily. That particular scenario wasn't available.
So I thought. And thought. And fiddled with my hair a little, then thought some more. Half an hour later, I was at the baseball tournament. Sun, breeze, lawn chair, fun baseball moms, drinks (diet pepsi instead of margaritas, but still), laughing, talking, kids running around happily, and my son smacking a monster triple and snagging four line-drives out of the air effortlessly. And I ran into my friend and we ended up going to see a movie in the evening.
It was a perfect summer day. Happily, I didn't overthink my way out of it.
(Yeah, I have no idea what that really means either. This post lacks weight. Oh, the irony.)