So it’s Friday. And it’s nowhere near the 4th of July – although I’ve already started freaking out about who’s gonna barbecue with us! Might have to take a little road trip. But anywho! Me and the boys just got back from our park (it’s ours. we own it.) and it felt beautiful. Well. Minus the bajillion little aphid sized nuisances that wanted to crawl gently across my arms as I lay on my blanket. But is there any more beautiful place to work?
The boys were over at the swings and I was lounging and brainstorming. And trying to ignore the gaggle of guys “playing football”. I’d paint a picture for you but it’d probably offend someone. Anyway, there’s always about seven countries being represented in any given square meter and this “game” was no exception. Now. I’ve never played varsity football. But since they were doing something most closely resembling touch football in an elementary school yard, I think I can without such experience make a few observations. First of all, they were very encouraging of each other. One Mediterranean accent repeatedly cooed, “I know you can do it!” There was much clapping. A possibly Russian accent bellowed, “Great catch, man, great catch.” At one point there were two footballs. ? They were standing staggered around – which at first made it hard to determine whether this was an actual game or some sort of monkey-in-the-middle exercise. Then they’d see if they could throw the ball farther than say, three inches. Then they’d say things that sounded like a football game but I’d look up and they’d be standing around while one guy said these phrases (including counting one-steamboat, two-steamboat,…) and then somebody else would randomly throw the ball and then nobody would catch it and then somebody would get to it and then he’d take off running and then EVERYBODY (are there teams?!) would chase him…to a seemingly undetermined “touchdown zone”.
This is when I explained to Ezra that just having the appropriate ball does not a sport make. I’ve reestablished my determination to get him to the States often for sporting events. Don’t want him moving back to the US as a teenager or something and being embarrassed. Just lookin’ out for my son.
I decided to try to get back to work. But seriously, they were hard to ignore. I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen a group of guys that large with absolutely no appropriate demonstration of athleticism.
And then I think I took a nap. And then I took this picture.
God, I love a productive day of writing in the outdoors.