Maybe next year

As the days become shorter here on the Palouse, they finally crowd out the fun that is dinner-time kid soccer, causing us to have to wait until next year to get our fill of pinball a la kid. But, as the season rides into to the sunset, I do have to get a few things off my chest, complete with reminiscences of the glory days of my own Parks and Rec stint. I still remember fondly the day the parents on my team figured out that we needed refreshment after the game (and even at halftime). The monster bag of orange slices were great...in theory, but how were we supposed to eat them? Still, they were back game after game, never varying, always available to replenish the 5 or 10 calories we burned while providing an ever moving, thrashing corral for the soccer ball as it moved via Brownian motion up and down the field.

Fastforward 27 years. The play is the same, the treats have advanced. Now, a bag of oranges would get ridiculed. If you don't have Capri Sun, you got nothin'. You need something to wash down the gourmet granola bars, right? It has gotten to the point that some of the kids ask what the treat is, even before the game has started.

It was Ryan's turn to get treats this week. Since Kersten was at the temple, I took him to get treats on the way. Notice I do not call them refreshments. In Safeway, I head straight for the granola isle, intent on making sure we don't bring the cheap granola Kersten likes so much. Before I can say Quaker Oats, Ryan has rounded the corner with two fists full of Pop Tarts. This is what we REALLY need he proclaims. Why not, I sigh, they have sugar and fat, what more could you want? All his team mates appeared pleased, but I still can/t figure out what they have to do with soccer. Maybe the pizza party at Pizza Hut will give me the clue...where have you gone, GODFATHERS!!!

Rachel plays in a younger league that is, if it is really possible, fraught with more random ball movement than Ryan's group. However, at one point in the game yesterday, the light seemed to finally turn on for her. Some kid got hit in the face with the ball (again, just a random event), and it (the ball, not his head) fell right at the feet of Rachel. She took her opportunity and begins dribbling down the field toward the goal. Making an amazing move that she actually might have meant to do, she beat the last defender and was face to face with a rather surprised goalie. With one last kick, she stepped back to admire her work as the ball rolled right under the outstreached arms of the goalie and stuck at the base of the goal post. No one seemed to know what to do. Go get it I screamed from the sidelines, prompting both the goalie and Rachel to saunter towards the ball. Arriving at the same moment, Rachel was able to tuck the ball just to the wrong side of the post and out of bounds. I almost got a goal she yelled at me as she got in position to corral the ball again. Turns out this was not her first near goal/goal of the season. Last week, she says, the ball bounced off someone head, hit her in the knee, and rolled into the goal. I am told the goal celebrations looked nothing like Ryan's escapades with the corner flag last year.

I wish Scott would stop making suggestions in his blog that Kersten takes seriously. The other day I came home to find Kersten wearing her pants backwards. After reading Scott's blog, I realized why these pants didn't fit right she told me. Fit right or not, you can't go out in public wearing pant backwards I tried to say. As she always does, Kersten took my suggestion to heart by heading down to Dissmores to see what kind of looks she got. I am looking for ways to spirit that pair of pants out of the country. I think I prefer the pants that Ryan used to have as a toddler that had pockets the were sewn into the side seam and not sewed on the inside. Thus, the pockets could go which ever way you wanted and you didn't have to worry about which way your pants went on. We are working on marketing these things on Ebay.

China and the 21st Century

Well, I'm back, thanks to a lot of quick maneuvering by a very competent Japanese NWA represented that not only got to Nanjing but got us there before we would have arrived going the other way. Not only that, but our bags made it; nothing short of a miracle. China was wonderful. I don't have time to tell you all the great stories but there were several. It was a lot of fun to be on the trip with Dad, although we did not get as much talking done as I would have liked because we mostly felt like sleeping when we were not teaching or having dinner with bigwigs.

You'll have to forgive me, but I really feel the need to briefly mention my renewed appreciation for the western toilet. As I was sitting in the VIP lounge (where we were taken by our extremely kind Chinese rep) in the Shenyang airport, I felt the urge to visit the facilities. And, being the sibling of some of the greatest "john readers" of modern times, I grabbed Harry Potter V (I am finally getting around to reading them), and headed in search of the facilities. As you might have guessed, the porcelain thrown that I have become so accustomed to had seemed to have lost internal structure and poured down level with the floor (for the uninitiated, see squat toilet, with several good reasons, to my way of thinking, that they are not a great thing; I am sure there are counterarguments out there too). This wasn't a shock to me; I have been to several of these in the past, but it came as a great disappointment as I realized that one of the greatest pastimes ever devised for getting out of wiping "three layers" off the dining room table had never been experienced by more than 1/6th of the world's population (yes, I know, probably much more). It begs the question of why someone would go to all the effort to make a raised platform to only to put a virtual hole in the ground to go into. Why not stick with the standard flush toilet (which, by the way, was not invented by John Crapper as the urban myth goes, or even Thomas Crapper, who did have some hand in it) where you could sit down and be more comfortable? Although my experience was disappointing, that of my traveling companion was down right sad when he had a bout of intestinal distress and rushed to the toilet, only to find the facilities not "up" to expectations, the toilet paper supply neglected, and someone banging on the door for a turn on the platform. There must be someone to sue for that kind of trauma (Tom, we'll be in touch). I know, there are several of you out there rolling their eyes and saying big deal. I can just hear Nigel noting all the difficulties he endured in the islands. I am not saying it was a hardship; simply wondering why China has not discovered the "rest" in restroom.

Julia, sorry no posts from China; you can't actually log on to blogspot from there.

The Curse

You know the feeling...the one you get when you think you have finally broken the jinx of years of frustration and disappointment. It could be anything, but you could put in Cougar basketball here, or any of my beloved sports teams. But I am not talking about that. I am talking about travel. Yes, after a couple of years of pain free travel, I thought the glow was back. A flawless travel year with 40,000 miles already traveled spoke to my new-found travel karma. Well, all good things come to an end. I could feel it closing in around me as we sat on the plane, waiting for the door to close, and no obnoxious stewardess came blaring over the PA. 20 minutes in to our sit, we still had not moved, and I was busied listening to the fine play-by-play of Tamsin over the cell. Then I must have slept. A full hour later, the steward came on to say that they were flying a new flight computer from Detroit, would we mind terribly deplaning and coming back tomorrow morning. He assured us that it would go then. Oh, and by the way, there is a Marathon in Portland right now and no hotels are available. So, here we sit, making history again in the Hilton Airport. What will become of us is anybodies guess and another chapter in the blog. Now to stave off the karma for hoops season...