I guess I asked for it when I bought a minivan

My dad used to drive me and my sister and our friends all over the place. My friends were bad enough, but my sister had some who raised even my sanguine father's eyebrows with what they were willing to discuss with him sitting there, from their crummy marks to boy problems to their "red friend" (he tells about that one repeatedly). This morning I drove over to Angus's school with him at seven to pick up five other volleyball players and drive them to another school for a tournament. At the end of the day, I went back to watch them play the final (they won) and then drove them all home. My experience with driving Angus and teammates has been mostly confined to a couple of baseball players or a basketball guy who gets in, sticks in his earbuds, says nothing for the entire drive and grunts in a faintly grateful manner on his way out. So I wasn't sure what to expect.

Turns out a bunch of thirteen-year-old boys are not appreciably different from my sister and her friends.

"Gabby texted me!" "What did she say?" "Hi. It's Gabby."

"Angus, can you put some music on?" (I reach for the CD button. He jabs the radio button. I jab the CD button. He jabs the radio button again. Wow, he is REALLY afraid I'm going to play Taylor Swift or the Glee soundtrack).

"I am Titayyyyyyyneeeeeummmmm" "Are you actually trying?" "No, I'm really a good singer, I'm in my church choir."

"She asked if we're on a bus back to school and I said no, we're with a parent driver, and she said what's that." "You have to break up with her. She's dumb."

"Shhhh! Angus is calling his parents. Uh, I mean his.....thingy." "Who's Eve?" "Angus's sister. Is Eve his sister?"

Kid who also plays on competitive city team:""I have volleyball practice tonight." "Tonight?!" "I'm going to tell my dad I'm tired and sore and ask if I still have to go." Me to Angus: "If his dad is anything like your dad, he's screwed." Angus: "Yep." (He was).

"She says you can't have her." "Who said I wanted her? Tell her I am a good boy who likes staying home."

"Thank-you for the Timbits! Uhhhhh, my hands are sticky." "Just lick them." "Okay." "Ohhhh, remember how we rubbed the bottoms of our shoes with our hands because the floor was slippery?" "Yep. And I just licked my whole palm. Oh well."

They all thanked me very politely for the ride. Then on the way home I asked Angus a question about the game in a slightly apologetic tone and he told me consolingly that it's very confusing and explained everything carefully.

I am currently feeling bemused but largely optimistic about the state of today's youth.

Surly Tuesdays on the Margins or Something

I wrote that post title last night and then stared at it for a while and then went away and whined on Twitter about being brain-dead and spinning my wheels and feeling creatively bereft, and some lovely people commiserated and offered words of wisdom and comfort. So I took a deep breath, did some loin-girding and.... decided screw it, and went out for a beer. But I came back today.

While I was staring at my post title yesterday, and then procrastinating by looking at Facebook and checking if my assignment grade had been posted yet and uploading pictures to print and then emailing Kim when I saw a picture of her at my house last Christmas and remembered I hadn't answered her last email, Eve was across the table with paint, construction paper, toothpicks and pumpkins. She had been home sick with a cold for the day, and after I got groceries I came home and asked if she felt well enough to go get pumpkins. She said yes, so we went to the pumpkin patch and she picked two big ones and three little ones.

 She then spent the rest of the afternoon cuddled up in my big chair making sketches of how she was going to embellish them. So while I was dealing with an utter lack of inspiration, and feeling that sinking, panicky feeling which is kind of dumb and yet kind of understandable, because it's not like this is my JOB, it's not like I get PAID to do it, it's not like anyone calls me on the carpet if I don't do it the day I meant to do it, it's not like it's really discernible that anyone even CARES whether or not I do it more than a pathetic once-a-week or so, but then since I don't HAVE a job I do sort of consider it an important thing that I make myself keep to some sort of structure and accountability, and if I start letting it slide it's usually indicative of larger problems in my life (insert deep breath)..... while all that was going on, THIS is what was coming from across the table:

"The littlest one is going to be the ultra-cute little mouse pumpkin. Well, a were-mouse. I don't care what you say, I think it will still be cute even if it has veiny eyeballs."

"The biggest is going to be non-cute. It's going to be a dragumpkin. A mix between a dragon and a pumpkin."

"What should I do with the middle one? A bat? Good idea. I'll make wings and tape toothpicks to them and stick them in. Oh, and then put dark glasses on it. It'll be a rapper bat. Oops, I stuck the toothpick in the wrong place. Ooh, now it's leaking. It's like....a SHAVING accident! *puts red paint and a small piece of kleenex on it* It's an adolescent rapper bat! Hey, look, the stem looks like a witch's hat! It's an adolescent rapper bat WITCH pumpkin! Ah, I don't feel like putting glasses on it."

"I need another toothpick. Too bad I don't have an assistant. Then I could hold out my hand and say 'toothpick!' and she would hand me one. And then she'd say 'you're so creative! and smart! and pretty! No, I'm sure I don't have a fever."

"I can't believe I painted my costume shirt AND did all of these and I haven't made a mistake and had a big freak-out yet. Can you believe that?"

"Where's my paintbrush?WHERE'S MY PAINTBRUSH? Assistant! *I point to the paintbrush in the cup of water and ask 'that paintbrush'?* "Yes, THAT paintbrush. My assistant would have known where that was."

"I'm so glad I made them little costumes. Lots of people paint them but I'm tired of painting them. I love the little costumes."

**************************************************

Amanda said on Twitter yesterday that maybe she and I were just balancing out our usual awesomeness with a fallow period so somebody else could use the awesome for a while. It's pretty clear who was sucking up the creativity in THIS house last night.

Maybe she'll let me use it when she's done.

Shaky Thursday

How do I do this again? Blog without a specific event and pictures to anchor me? It's been a while.

I was feeling a touch surly last night, although mostly still shaky. I'm taking a basic Computers course in my Library Tech Diploma. Until now I've been able to muddle through all the courses even though I'm not terribly comfortable with computers and they keep changing course platforms on me; but NOW, I'm supposed to be learning about computers ON A COMPUTER. It feels somewhat akin to learning how to race cars by building my own car and then racing it - I worry there could be a catastrophic injury.

So I was starting a little late because of all the World Series nuttiness, then school starting, then Matt being in Asia and Eve having the flu, then Blissdom, because I knew the first assignment wasn't due until next week. I was working through the chapter on Windows 7, clicking all the buttons and thinking this was pretty good, useful and simple even - some instructions were just to 'notice' things. I can notice things! I'm a kick-ASS noticer! Then I got hung up on something (displaying windows side-by-side, if you must know, STOP LAUGHING, I'm good at other things!) and had to email the instructor, and then I started reading through the learning plan just to make sure I hadn't missed anything (of course I'd missed anything, I'd missed lots of things, did I mention they keep changing course platforms and I'm really bad at computer stuff?) and there way at the end is this one line: Exam at Mohawk.

Say what?

Since I'm doing the embarrassing confession thing already, let me just be up front about the fact that the first couple of courses I registered for were ONLY offered through Mohawk - it doesn't really matter, it's all through Ontariolearn.com, which is a clearing house for courses offered through a whole bunch of colleges. But some of the later courses are actually offered through Algonquin, which is the college nearest to me. But the Algonquin college registration interface is completely impenetrable, as far as I can tell - I've never been able to find the page where I register. So I went on registering through Mohawk, which has a really user-friendly interface but is in goddamned HAMILTON, five hours away.

Look! I figured out the snipping tool!

So I fired off a panicky email to my instructor, but it was almost midnight because I'd spent the evening helping out a friend who is solo-parenting her baby for the week and then Matt tried to install some viewing program that buggered everything and then spent another forty minutes trying to UN-install it, so I wasn't going to get an answer last night.

Whatever. Fine. I'm cool.

NO,OF COURSE I'M NOT COOL, ARE YOU INSANE? I might have totally screwed up because I was too stupid to figure out how to register at Mohawk, I might have to drop a whole course and be that much further behind in the diploma that I'm ALREADY doing so slowly that disco will probably be cool again by the time I'm done. That or drive five hours to write an exam at Christmastime.

No, no, enough of that. I'm a grown-up. I can accept that I make mistakes, and even if the worst-case happens here, it's not the end of the world. It's not death or dismemberment. It's only community college. I went to bed, played some Words With Friends, read a little and hardly laid awake all night worrying at all.

This morning there was an email from my instructor. She said of course I can write the exam at Algonquin and sent me a link to register for a proctor. Then she congratulated our family on the Little League World Series thing, because yes, I'm not above still using that as an excuse for everything - "I'm distracted in this course halfway through October because baseball".

Shut up.

Blissando

I freely admit that I attended Blissdom under somewhat fraudulent circumstances. I did the same thing with BlogHer last summer, because Marilyn said it was legit to just go to hang out with your girlfriends in New York AND she offered to room with me, but I thought that would be my first and last blogging conference. I went to Blissdom because when were Nicole and Hannah ever going to scoot their little butts from Calgary and Halifax, respectively, to Toronto at the same time ever again? When you have a chance to catch lightning in a jar - or awesomeness on a hotel room couch - you take it, right?

My preciouses

I had thought that my biggest takeaway from BlogHer (along with the fact that I kind of hate the term 'takeaway' and yet I'm still using it, WHY?) was that I am a personal blogger and that 'branding' or 'monetizing' my blog just wasn't going to happen. I tried one giveaway when I was sent a product that I did really like, and it went over with a resounding thump. What I'm comfortable with is reviewing books and sharing my snark-skewed view of life, the universe and goddamned baseball. 

But here's the thing - I am a slow learner with retrograde amnesia when it comes to lessons in life and blogging. And the thing I learned at BlogHer and then learned again this week-end is that everyone will probably get different things out of something like this, and that's okay. It's also okay if I'm one of those people that only gets one to three things out of it, and not a person that goes home to write a new Manifesto containing Seventy-Six Articles of Faith.

When someone like Eric Alper says something like "you can do ANYTHING you put your mind to", I looked around and saw a bunch of people nodding. Personally, I was thinking "what if I put my mind to jumping off the CN Tower and trying to fly by flapping my arms? Eric, you're cute, but you're tripping." But when Schmutzie says "you are you, and your success won't look like anyone else's", suddenly this wellspring of recognition and gratitude overflowed out of my eyes and I knew if I learned (re-learned) nothing else that week-end that this would still be enough. And who knows? Someone else was probably all over the Eric Alper thing and saying fuck you Schmutzie, I am SO William Faulkner (oh relax, I'm exaggerating for effect, NO ONE SAYS FUCK YOU SCHMUTZIE). And then I hung around her like a stalker trying to think of something really good to say even though I try never to meet my heroes because I know I'll just go all mushy-minded fan-girl stuttering "you're just....so awesome and I just....awesome" and I did, I really did. Whatever, I got hugged by Schmutzie (even if it WAS out of pity), I'm good. 

Schmutzilicious

So I could list all the stuff I liked  - okay fine, I'll list the stuff I liked: the blog to book session with Julie van Rosendaal, who is SO nice and funny and sweet and generous with her knowledge; the power hour which gave me the conference experience I never expect to have, where for one moment I shed my cynical snarkskin and feel completely engaged and transported; floating in the hot tub and solving the world's problems with Nicole and Hannah (I touched their HAIR. I know what their VOICES sound like.) The Bigstorming creative session with Marilyn Barefoot, which I suspected might be cheesy and 'motivational' in a fake way, but turned out to be surprisingly (only because I'm a bit of a douche) practical and helpful, and I LOVED our group (Organic Vomit Party for the win!); Jully Black at the Outdoor party - wow. Just wow; the lentil lunch by Canadian Lentils - I have never shoveled that may lentils into my gob in such a short time. My meal plan for the next two weeks consists of lentil main dishes, lentil side dishes and lentil desserts; and the pajama dance party on the last night - most brilliant idea ever. 

What did I not like? Well, I actually don't want to talk bums, unless we're discussing Nicole's fabulous ass.

I know, sweetie. If I had one like that I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off it either.

(Kidding. She's playing heads or tails trying to win one of Julie's cookbooks)

Also, I regret that I didn't get a picture of Nicole with both her legs behind her head on the hotel room hallway floor.

I DID get Hannah in bed, though. 

What I learned (again) I think, is that it's pretty much impossible to come to this sort of thing and NOT get splattered with a little inspiration, enthusiasm and positive energy, even if you ARE a grumpy, depressive malcontent with relentlessly low self-esteem. 

Little League World Series Diary VERY LAST POST EVER probably

So.... after this

we went back to the hotel for the night. I was driving Angus home, plus Coach Brian and his son Clay. They were one of the families that had a kid that won both Major and Junior Nationals, so Brian's wife Sarah had been in Alberta with their older son for Nationals, then home for two days and then off to Williamsport for the LLWS. When Brian asked if she was coming down to Toronto to pick up him and Clay, she said "No." Well, there might have been a few other colourful verbs and adjectives surrounding that, but the general thrust of the answer was negative, on many levels. 

We had to have the boys downtown in Ottawa the next day for interviews with CTV and CBC. We figured we'd be home for a couple hours, then carpool downtown in a few cars. I asked Brian what time he wanted to leave. He said not first thing, otherwise we'd just end up sitting in traffic.

There was an accident. We ended up sitting in traffic. 

Well, what can you do? We sat. We talked. We took deep breaths. We took two hours to go twelve kilometres. 

Brian texted people to figure out who was ahead of us and who was behind us. Eventually he texted people and told them not to pick us up because we'd have to drive straight downtown. Then he texted other people and told them that we would drive straight downtown but we still might not make it. 

Meanwhile, Angus and Clay were involved in their new athletic endeavour.

I call it "Sleeping For Canada".

We made Angus and clay strip down in a rest stop parking lot and put on their jerseys and nicer shorts. We coasted into downtown on fumes. We were fourteen minutes late, but they waited for us. Ah, the perks of fame.

A blonde, perfectly coiffed, extremely photogenic woman tried to get them all to say "Hi! We're the East Nepean Eagles and we're on CTV!"

They were really, really bad at it. 

Then she asked a few of them some questions. Clearly, Angus was riveted. 

Then we had to get over to CBC.

Somehow, the Canada jerseys walking through the market was one of the most surreal moments of the entire experiences.

We got to CBC. They put us in a boardroom to wait for the live news report, when the team was going to be on surrounding the news anchor. There were televisions, so we turned one on to watch their CTV appearance. 

The news report started. There was a story about a stabbing. There was a story about a shooting. There was a story about a mugging. We thought maybe we'd be next.

There was a story about an explosion.

Finally, they were on. Right after, there was a story about a girl making friends with a gorilla. At least they didn't have to follow that one. 

Then it was over. We tried to get back to the parking lot. But it was after five, so doors were locked all over the place. We walked around a lot of buildings and then raced some cars across a busy street, and then a really nice janitor let us in and helped us find the right elevators. We got in one, and it wouldn't go to the parking garage. Then it wouldn't open. And all our cell phones were dead. And we were out of snacks and water. 

Then it went back up to the main floor and opened. We cheered and when we got out there were some official-type people waiting and they said whoa, party elevator, and we explained that we were just happy that we weren't found dead in an elevator two days from now.

We got home. We slept like the dead. The next night there was a party for the team at the Barrhaven Royal Oak. The mayor and a bunch of other political types made nice speeches. We brought back the banners that had been folded up on the piano bench for half the summer. The boys were given commendations by the city. I drank a lot of beer. 

Mike Carroccetto took this photo of Justin, David, Angus and Ken in the parking lot. I love this picture - Angus especially usually looks so serious in pictures, and he said David kept making them all laugh. They look so happy, don't they?

There have been a couple more events. The team was on the ice dropping the puck at an Ottawa 67s game last week. Last night we had a box at the last pre-season Ottawa Senators hockey game. Before we left, Angus said "do we have to do anything?" and I said "I think you're doing something with the coaches at intermission" and he groaned. I would have given him some speech about being grateful and dutiful, but I didn't have much of a leg to stand on - it was all very cool, this and this and this and this (possible my favourite - scroll down to ANGUS KNOWS BASEBALL) and this especially (above the fold - he was SO cranky when the photographer got here, and I explained that he'd been out til late playing baseball the night before and up at six for volleyball that morning AND had his braces tightened, and the photographer said 'isn't that a little late for braces? What is he, eighteen?' and I said HE WAS TWELVE FOUR MONTHS AGO and the photographer's jaw dropped), but one day I sat down, opened an email that said "Angus in Citizen today!" and said "Oh for fuck's sake, AGAIN?" 

All good things must come to an end. 

This is what Angus wrote on Facebook:

Well we've been waiting for this summer for about 6 years now. We've been hyping it up for so long. And now that it's finally over I'm kinda sad. We had all this talent and made it all the way to the show. We represented east nepean better then anyone has ever. And represented Canada well also. Here's to our summer and how good it's been. Wish you all the best luck in future baseball wishes. 

Sniff.

Thanks for reading, and watching, and emailing, and facebooking, and travelling with us and making us feel loved and happy. 

Now, back to our regularly scheduled fare of book reviews and whining about being fat and depressed. 

Little League World Series Diary: Day Fourteen or something, dunno, it's all a blur at this point

So we got home, and Matt left for Washington. (Before we left, there was talk of the coaches taking the kids to see a baseball game in Baltimore. Matt was telling this to me and Eve and saying that the crazy part was that then they would be really close to where he was on business in Washington. Eve and I were saying "so they're at the biggest baseball tournament in the country and the coaches want to bus them two hours to...watch another baseball game. And THAT'S not the CRAZY part?") On Sunday, they were bussed back to Toronto to be hosted at the Blue Jays game. I drove down to Toronto, had a minor panic attack when my GPS couldn't find the hotel, called Matt and asked if he had time to help me, looked for a place to pull over and then suddenly found myself across the street from the hotel. I checked in and walked to the Rogers Centre. The boys were on the field.

They were given jerseys with their names and numbers on them (their East Nepean numbers, not their Team Canada numbers, since Matt had to send in the numbers as soon as they won in Glace Bay). So THAT was insanely cool.

They got to meet some of the players and got hats signed, then watched batting practice. 

It was raining when we got there, but then cleared up, so they opened the dome.

The team was introduced before the game.

The parents had really good seats, and the team was in a box. One of the dads said he thought he could see the light from the beer fridge. 

On the way down to Toronto, I realized I had forgotten to get cash, which I always do before going on a trip in case my bank card doesn't work. Then when I go to the game, it became apparent that Matt had put a bunch of people's rooms on his credit card in Glace Bay, and these people started handing me envelopes of cash. By the end of the evening I felt like a drug dealer. 

I love this shot every time. 

And look what happened! 

After the game, I walked back to the hotel with some other parents and we met the team bus. We helped unload and decided who was going to take which stuff home. I went up to the room with Angus and then went back down to have a beer with some parents and coaches. One of the coaches asked how Angus was and I said "showered, naked with a towel around his waist, watching tv and eating blueberry pancakes from room service - so, blissfully happy".

It was a good night.

Little League World Series Diary: Day 8

We were going home today, so we were sad. We took one last drive to the park.

We passed that weird blue bubble thing one last time.

We took one last look at this view.

ESPN had dropped us like a hot potato after our last loss. Enh, whatever. It was fun and deeply weird while it lasted, ESPN.

Eve lightening the mood with a little photo-bombing, after stealing my sunglasses.

And then I caught sight of this and got all choked up again.

It was our consolation game against Puerto Rico. All the kids who barely got to play were used for pitching and got to hit in the regular rotation, so Angus was hardly in the game, but every time he was on the diamond he was smiling.

Kids who hadn't gotten a hit the whole series were suddenly hitting up a storm.

It was like all the pressure and tension just faded away, and they were all just playing baseball again.

I suddenly understood a lot better why most of the teams stay for the whole series. If they had left right after the loss that took them out, that would be their last memory. Instead, they get to hang around, play some uncomplicated games, bask in the atmosphere, sign a few more autographs, watch their fellow players, and be with their teammates. 

During the game, a dad and his two sons were sitting near us and heard us talking. When one of the sons figured out who we were, he asked us tentatively if we thought he could get a picture with Angus after the game. I said I would make it happen. "You don't think he'll mind?" the kid said. "I'm his mother" I said, "he's not allowed to mind." Matt rolled his eyes at me and I said "oh come on, we might as well use what tiny power we still have for good".

For the consolation games, they didn't get whisked away underground by bus any more - they had to walk up the hill.

I guess Matt bought into the whole parental power thing, because he got the whole team to pose with the kid and his brother. They seemed really happy.

They got mobbed for autographs every few steps.

This is Angus signing a kid's shirt.

This is Justin signing a kid's shirt and being MUCH MORE GRACIOUS about being photographed doing it.

We had been intending to visit the Museum all week but hadn't managed it, so we decided to go in before we left.

It was really cool.

They had artefacts from the last seventy-odd years of Little League play.

They showed the ways player safety had been improved.

Trading pins is a huge thing all the players do. Angus game home with a shoe box full.

They had Babe Ruth's uniform.

They had places you could test your base-running speed

and ability to jump for a pop fly.

This was the square where the players were welcomed. Their flag was raised when they arrived and taken down when they left.

Then one last wave at this dude, who, now that I think about it, is really kind of creepy.

We were sad. It felt like it had all gone by too fast, like we hadn't soaked it up enough, even though we had, like we should stay longer, even though Matt really needed to get back to work, like we were leaving part of our family behind, which we were. It was over but not over enough. It was still going on, but we weren't part of it any more. It was like the ending of all intense experiences - melancholy and bittersweet