Monday, January 30, 2012

Indoor Soccer

Pey really enjoyed playing soccer in the fall, so we decided to try our hand at indoor soccer with her to keep her skills sharp.  And by skills, I mean running around chasing imaginary butterflies in her own little world while a soccer ball rolls by somewhere in the vicinity.  The local Y offers indoor leagues which only meet on Sunday.  That's right--just once a week after church.  No practice during the week.  No early Saturday morning games.  What's not to like?

Once again, she is the only girl on her team.  Once again, she's the biggest kid on the team.  What can I say?  Us Godwins grow 'em big!  Coach Matt was very nice and patient.  Too bad Walter Matthaeu had already passed away, because he would be the ideal coach of this team.  The "red" team (yes, we didn't even get a name--we got a color) looked like The Bad News Bears out there (the original version--I refuse to acknowledge the Billy Bob Thorton version).  All we were missing was the "Chico's Bail Bonds" on the back of the shirts.  We didn't win a game.  Most games, we didn't even score a goal.

Pey looks like she's auditioning for Olivia Newton John's "Let's Get Physical" remake
Oh well.  At least she got to chase some more butterflies.

Monday, January 23, 2012

Wine Down With Nikki Cherry

It's nice to know people who know people.  My good friend Jess (or as the local sub shop screws up her name, Jeff) had been inviting me to Wine Down parties for a few months.  "What's a Wine Down?", you ask.  Does it really matter?  Weren't you hooked at the mere mention of wine??

Actually these "Wine Downs" are painting parties.  You bring a bottle of wine, relax and paint with the local artist Nikki Cherry.  My schedule had never permitted me to go before, but the planets were properly aligned this time, and I could actually throw my bottle in a bag and go get all Bob Ross up in the house!  Back when I was pregnant with the Sound and was too big to, well, move, I loved to paint.  Granted, it was the Donna Dewberry method, but still, it was putting paint on a brush and putting the brush to the canvas (or clothing, walls, or furniture--I was fat & couldn't move.  Sue me.)  I felt so artistic.  And amazed that I could turn out something other than Jackson Pollack style splotches.

This particular class was to paint an owl.  Here is what Nikki's version looked liked to entice us to actually show up:

Kind of psychedelic looking, but still, a brush to canvas & wine!
With a blank canvas in front of me, a filled paint palette to my left, a mason jar full of brushes and water to my right and my Solo cup full of chianti in front of me we began (which reminds me of the bad country lyric, "I'd rather had a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy).
Just the basics; paint, brushes and vino.

I had never been to any kind of painting class (Donna Dewberry gave me private tutorials via VHS, obviously waaaay back in the day), so I didn't know what to expect.  Nikki stood in front and told us which paints and which brushes to use and then demonstrated the stroke.  I was very impressed with her technique and how she put the instructions in easy to understand language.  Terms like volleyball, heart, nickle were used and don't we all know what they are?  Terms like big brush, rounded brush, tiny brush. Got it!

An artiste at work.  Yes, Fotoflexer's collage feature is no where near as good as Picnik.
My owl turned out more psycho than psychedelic, but I had fun.  The Sound & the Fury are arguing over who gets to hang him in their room.  For the time being, he's just scowling down from the mantle.  I'll be sure to hide him before company comes over.

The whole group.  Yes, those eyes will haunt you!  The owl's.  Not mine.

Sunday, January 22, 2012

Duke Swim Dive vs. UVA

Friday was a teacher workday, which meant I had the Sound & the Fury all day.  Thankfully it wasn't too bad, as the Sound slept until the crack of lunch and I had made cupcakes, so the few hours they were together, they were in sugar induced comas and didn't fight.  Whenever there is a workday, we always try to do something fun, or at least something out of the ordinary routine (like emergency runs to the dentist, for example).  We saw that Duke swimming was holding a home meet and since we never spend time around an indoor pool (when will they develop the sarcasm font?--mere italics don't cut it), we decided to make our yearly trek to Duke's Taishoff Pavilion.
Our house, indeed.

Let me preface this by stating that when I was at Duke, I didn't even know we had a swim team, much less go to the Aquatic Center (actually I did once for a lifeguarding course--couldn't figure out how to get on pool deck, so I dropped the class.. I was nothing but devoted. HA!).  This will just go to show you what kids will make you do.  When we were at Duke, we hated Duke.  Now we look for any excuse to head back to the alma mater (and force the girls to go through the tour of "Parents--The Early Years", which includes such sites such as our freshman dorm.  And yes, my apartment where J stumbled in looking for his wrestling buddies and ended up with a wife instead).  I considered wearing J's varsity letterman jacket (yes, he was a big, bad wrassler and we have an ACC 3rd place championship plaque in our house to prove it).  I decided against that, because I didn't want to date myself.  Kids these days are too hip to be wearing old fogey letterman jackets and if I'm anything, I'm hip.  Or so I lie to myself.
I told Lulu to do something "swimmery".  Instead she gave me petit mal seizure-y.
Odd to see Lulu in the stands for a swim meet.

Duke swam against UVA, who was nationally ranked.  Considering that, the team competed very well.  Peytie was engrossed with the divers.  Since that kid is constantly flinging herself about with reckless abandon, I predict she'll be taking years off my life by jumping off the platform.  The really high one. We did what we usually do to celebrate anything remotely good in Durham--we headed to Hog Heaven BBQ.  If you can get past its location in the shadiest strip mall in Durham, you'll be treated to the best BBQ in town.  Good, especially considering its sketchy location with quick access to 85, might very well be your last meal.

Friday, January 20, 2012

Aztec Dragon, Corks Crew Meetup

Yes, I realize it's been almost 3 weeks since my last post, but let's face it.  I'm boring. Nobody wants to read about how I spend my days playing Words With Friends with my retired mother.   Not that I can be held accountable for my boring nature.  It's January.  It's cold.  I have gone into hibernation.  Tabatha's Salon Takeover marathons and easy cheese were simply calling my name and who am I to deny Tabatha?  Plus, those double word scores ain't gonna play themselves.

My BFF and partner in crime, Mary Margaret, found something worth making me put on pants (no, I wasn't truly pants-less, but my sweats don't really count as proper pants).  The Greensboro Corks Crew (see what they've done there--corks crew, corkscrew?? Brilliant!) was having a meet up at the Aztec Dragon (Mexican Chinese--intriguing) with 5 generous pours.  J was gone on business last week, so I figured after a week of house arrest with the Sound and the Fury, I had to get out.

Apparently, these Corks Crewers are serious about their wines.  When I put down "close race between Boone's Farm and Manischewitz" on my application as my reply to "What's your favorite wine?", that got me branded as a rouge and a renegade.  When they heard my name last night as I was checking in, the organizers immediately recognized me.  And sat me in a separate dining room.  No, just kidding, but I'm sure they probably wanted to.

Jay Tarigo of American Premium Beverage was the master of ceremonies and had the set up of 6 pours.  Yes, a bonus pour!  We started with a sweet bubbly white and worked our way to the good reds.  Jay was very informative.  For example, we learned that the screw on tops on some wine bottles is called a "stelvin" and that Zebulon, NC is home to  the largest synthetic cork factory in the US.  Who knew?  Sake tastes like rotten bananas.  Who knew? (ok, so maybe you did know that. I just don't get out much).

The wines were all paired with Asian foods.  Once again, who knew that a potsticker would go well with a pinot?
Mary Margaret goes incognito with a "fake" name.  See, she's trying to avoid  being recognized.

After all our erudition, we decided our brains couldn't handle any more knowledge.  So we hit up a beer & pizza joint for dinner.  A $2 Yeungling special will go a long way to ease smart thoughts.

Now, to figure out how to properly play "stelvin" for a double word score.

Monday, January 2, 2012

2012, Down in the Mouth

2011 was not the best year I'd ever had.  In fact, it ranks right on up there among the worst.  I was very happy to bid '11 goodbye and hope for better results in '12.  So far, '12 hasn't gotten the "Happy New Year" memo.  Here's a summary of how my 2012 has stacked up, by numbers:

2:  days into the year
0:  all happened today, no other day
1:  1 kid
2:  2 emergency dentist trips

Yes, you read that right.  The second day of the year, I have gone to the dentist, not once, but TWICE for emergency issues for Peytie.

Last night, I realized that I am, indeed, the worst mother on the face of the planet.  Peytie has been complaining about her tooth hurting for a week or so, but since the Sound & the Fury have doctorates in complaining with master's degree in griping, I dismissed it.  She had been cutting molars in the far back and had a hard time with that, so I just assumed she was still teething (yes, I know that I should never ASS-u-me anything--the one lesson I retained from geometry class).  After hearing her gripe for a solid week, I decided to look.  Wanna guess what I saw?  A hole.  A little black hole.  Like the kind of picture they show kids to scare them into brushing.  AND flossing. I felt like calling CPS on myself.  Sure, she looks clean and well nourished, but her teeth are rotting!!  My sweet kid is the poster child for the anti caries league.  Yes, I just took her to get a filling in August, but I still felt like I had neglected my poor child!

I called the dentist and begged them to squeeze her in today (and made a mental note to buy Peytie a pony.  A pretty one.  With pink ribbons in her hair.  And gumdrops for hooves).  Turns out, the filling they had put in in August had fallen out.  To make matters worse, something about her storing food in the tooth (ewww) had rotted the area (given the fact that she inherited my horrendous teeth, means she's in for a lifetime of British jokes--yes, my mouth and college education cost my parents the same amount, and yes, I have been known to break a tooth eating a soft chocolate chip cookie, that's how weak my teeth are).  My poor baby came back to me all Novocained up, which they didn't have to do in the summer.   To see her slobbering all on herself made me feel all the worse.  My baby.  My poor, poor baby.  I wondered if a unicorn would make up for it?

I tried to be a good mommy and made her soup for lunch.  She snuck a piece of pizza from Lulu, but even Lulu felt badly for her sister so she let it slide.  Perhaps this was the one time Lulu should have yelled and screamed and taken it back. Poor Peytie had never tried to eat under the influence of Novocaine and wanna guess?  She took a chunk out of her lip.  And never felt it.  I don't do blood and this was a lot of it.  Torrents.  It looked like Attilia the Hun had marched through my kitchen.  I called the dentist and made ANOTHER emergency run.

The dentist called in the periodontist and together they packed and glued and gauzed the area.  By the time we had gotten to the dentist office, the bleeding had stopped and she was scared to suture it again, for fear of getting the bleeding started back up.  That was all fine and dandy by me, as the thought of that would have made me pass out (don't ask how I managed to even function enough to drive the 20 minutes from home to the office).
Perhaps I learned my lesson the hard way.  I didn't celebrate New Year's Day with the traditional Southern hog jowls and black eyed peas.   If I promise to eat a double portion next year, can I ask for a 2012 mulligan??  Please?

PS.  I have pics of Pey's mouth, but decided against posting them.  Because, well, ewwwwww.