Little Confession

I made a little confession to Byron the other night at dinner. We were out for curry at a nice little place. Over his shoulder, the large screen T.V. was showing one of the World Cup games that we weren't all that interested in.

But all this World Cup stuff, all the yelling we've been doing at the screen and getting very emotional about 22 men playing with a ball, brought a memory back to me. I had just been explaining the off-side rule to someone the day before when this long-ago memory floated back.

And so, at that little dinner alone with Byron, I suddenly started laughing and I had to spit my confession out.

"You probably won't remember this," I said, "but when we were first going out we got into some conversation about football and you were testing me to see if I knew what I was talking about. You asked me about the offside rule and you were so impressed because I could explain it to you."

(Here comes the confession...)

"The truth is, I couldn't really explain the offside rule but I bluffed my way through it and I must have sounded pretty good cuz you totally fell for it!"

I got to laughing so hard that my eyes filled up and tears streamed down my checks. Byron too.

26 years later and I finally come clean :-). No more seared conscience for me!

Heather My Hero

This is Miss Heather, age 7, on her first rock climb this past Saturday. She wanted to give it a go and I had told her that perhaps her brother Jesse would let her try a little one.

Only she didn't stop.

This particular climb was rated a 5a.

As for me, I'm scared of heights. Very scared of heights. Sweaty palms and a stomach that plunges like an elevator with a snapped cable.

I was utterly astonished to see Little Girl go!

Cheering for.... Who?

When the World Cup rolls around, I begin to feel the confusion of my life. Who is it, in the end, that I'd really like to see win?

In the 2002 World Cup, I expected nothing out of the U.S. team. Then they promptly came out and beat Portugal! I was stunned and depressed at "my country's" defeat. It took me a couple of days to realize that it was nice for the fledgling U.S. team to have beaten an international power-house.

On the other hand, when England play, I find myself strongly supportive of their side. Unless they are playing Portugal, of course. I spent four years in the England as a child and I have fond feelings toward the place. Of course, I lived four years in Sweden before that so I feel fondly for them when they play as well. But if Sweden play England or Portugal, my fond feelings towards the Swedes weaken.

My passport says USA and while I thought they played badly against Czech Republic, I was very proud of the way those nine boys held off the ten Italians. They deserved to be pleased with themselves for that draw. Shame they didn't get to go on. I have no real fondness for the Italian team. (Sorry Nelly!)

So yea, I thought it was a shame the U.S. team didn't get to go on, but I was SO PUMPED for Ghana! An African nation going on! Our whole household rejoiced! Sheer delight to see Africa succeed! Go Motherland! (Wait, does 15 years in Africa make it my Motherland??)

Watching Brazil play last night was pleasurable because they do dance across the field gorgeously. And all of Portugal would be pleased if after, (God forbid,) Portugal gets knocked out, Brazil went on to another glory. That would definitely be this country's second choice. I could hear all our neighbors yelling happily with each of those four goals last night. So there is a certain happiness for them, though I do think it would be polite to spread the joy around and see someone else win!

So I feel a little confused at who I care most about... But I've finally decided it must be Portugal. It's come to the place that I have to leave the room when they play. I'm so afraid my blood pressure will bust a whole through the top of my head!

The good thing is, if they don't advance any farther, I've got several other countries to legitimately root for. Maybe being a confused international is not such a bad thing after all.

Caffeine-free

I'm trying to go caffeine-free for an undetermined length of time. I think my body will benefit from it. Right now, though, it's only suffering.

I don't even drink that much caffeine! No fully caffeinated coffee and somewhere between 2-4 cups of good black tea daily.

But it's 6pm on day two and I'm dragging badly. Tesugen. That's what I would say in Sweden. Not sure if it should be one word or two.... But it means something along the lines of tea-starved or craving tea.

That's me :-(

Sore Superman

This morning Byron and I sat in bed with our cup of early morning tea. We like to sit in bed and chat and pray for people who are on our minds.

Today as Byron lifted the cup to his lips he groaned and rested it part way up. "What's wrong?" I asked.

Well, he and the boys have been "Superman-ing." That's what they call lifting weights in the garage together. They go down there to "Superman." It's been a while but now that Jesse is home, they're back at it. And Byron was too sore this morning to lift his tea cup.

Byron is 46. Must be tough having sons who are 19, 16 and 12 to keep up with.

But my dues will come. When Heather is 17, slim, wrinkle-free and full of energy, fashion and pop-culture awareness, I'll be 53!

I didn't laugh at Byron's sore arms. I'm going to want his sympathy in ten years time.

Teams That Play Together...

Marty, Carey, Byron and I got in from Holland last night close to midnight. We were there with the rest of the Europe team to work.

Carey and I went a day late so that we could shorten the time we were away from our kids. On our second evening we rode side-saddle on the back of the bikes Marty and Byron were using and the four of us went off through the rain to a cute little restaurant we like to frequent when there.

We escaped during a lunch break as well, peddling happily around Den Haag.

But Friday was the best. Our team, although entirely stressed and somewhat angry by Friday morning, does love each other dearly. Friday was our play day so we took off on bicycles toward the coast. We went through busy sections of the city to pretty little neighborhoods with quiet streets, cool forests with shady green light and finally out through the grassy dunes and onto the beach. After some goofing around on the sand, we headed back into the forest to a restaurant where we ate those amazing Dutch pancakes covered in delicious things over a long lunch together.

The lunch sounds as if it should have been relaxing yet the conversation was tough. We needed to get some things talked through. It was good. And the fresh air and exercise in the midst of pleasant places was a huge benefit. I appreciated that we pushed through some difficult talks, still loving to be together.

Beautiful Curry

I was sad yesterday about several different things. It wasn't a debilitating depression or crushing heaviness. Just a sadness like a cloak over my shoulders.

I had special people that I love around me most of the day. Barbara's hugs and Nelly's smiles and little emails do wonders for me. But there are things that are sad and need grieving in life and yesterday some of those were keeping themselves in the forefront of my mind.

By the time evening rolled in, our three boys had dispersed to other locations for the night. Heather was busy playing and Byron was serving up the most fantastic curry that he had made for me. It was hot and tasty and had just enough coconut milk in it to sweeten it. It was amazing.

We sat outside in the lingering warmth and ate this good food. It was good to my taste and good to my heart. I sat there, spoiled rotten by this boy who makes a killer curry. Beautiful food! Beautiful boy!

Treasures in Old Boxes

Yesterday Trevor was cleaning out when he came across something that he deemed a treasure.

"Look at this T-Shirt!" he yelled as he burst into the office.
"Isn't it AWESOME?!"

There he was, holding up my ancient Jackson Browne shirt. And it really is ancient. My friend Loren made it for me when I was 16 or 17. The guy I was seeing at the time was not very amused that some other guy was making gifts for me, but I was! Loren was a good friend :-)

I'm not really sure where all that shirt has been over the last 25 years but I wouldn't have known it was in a basket somewhere in the attic here. I promise, I don't usually haul old t-shirts all over the world. And this one looks like it has seen better days. No holes--that's good. Silkscreening still in good shape--that's good. But stained? Oh my! The whole thing looks kind of beige now from many small stains smearing into one.

But Trevor was absolutely taken with it. He says he's going to wear it at his next gig. I'm hoping I can get it off of him to wash it before that.

What we pass on to our kids can be so random and weird, some of it embarrassing or even detrimental.

I must say that I'm proud to have passed on to Trevor a passion for the music of Mr. Browne.

My Dad

These are my parents, Denny and Carolyn. They've been married almost 50 years. Today is my Dad's birthday. He's 74.

I could write the longest post ever to tell you how great my Dad is. I could tell all about the people who have been impacted by his life, the way all my friends love him, the way his teaching gift is so natural and relaxed, the way he loves to sail, kayak and camp, the way he wrestles on the floor with his grandkids and sends them friendly emails, the way he rubs his eyes when he gets to laughing really hard and the way he washes the kitchen floor all the time. I really could go on forever.

But Byron and I agree that one of the most favorite ways we experience my Dad is in the wee hours of dawn when we've just arrived home the night before from who-knows-where. We stagger in, jet-lagged and weird as all get-out. Mum has our beds all made up and inviting and, after talking till we truly make no more sense, we collapse into those comfy beds.

Next morning, when all is still in the house, when our jet lag has forced us awake despite our best efforts to the contrary, the floorboards creak and we know Dad is coming down the stairs. Soon we hear the kettle whistle briefly in the kitchen. And then it happens... Dad appears by our bedside with a fresh tray of tea.

"Morning!" He whispers, then turns to go, still holding his own tea tray to take upstairs.

We sit up, bleary and pajamad. Our minds clear a little with the hot brew and we feel unbelievably happy to be home.

Happy Birthday, Dad!
We love you so!

Boys and Stuff

Byron is away this weekend in England. I'm jealous. He's with a lot of people that I really like. Brian Heasley and Phil Togwell for two. Mr Byro texted me last night. "Do we need tea?" That was kind of a silly question. We always need tea. I am not embarrassed to admit that I'm a tea-snob and I like the good, hard stuff from the source--England! I've had some really bad cups of tea lately. So yes, we need tea. BTW, I'm kinda missing his normal cute little messages here. The tea query was kind of boring.

I dreamt last night that Byron wasn't in England at all. I dreamt he had gone to Russia to collect a baby boy we were adopting. He brought him home and he was so cute. I was so happy holding this baby in my dream. He was, I suppose, about 6 months old. He was blond haired and blue eyed. (Which begs the question, "What do I need with yet another blond haired, blue eyed baby boy in my life? Or can you ever really have enough of those?" See photo of when they were very small.) We were trying to figure out a good name for him. Didn't seem to know if he had one already.

Byron gets very nervous when I start dreaming about babies. I wonder what this latest dream is all about....

Musical Madness

Oooooh my head is all jumbled this morning. I know I've said before that sometimes Colin's mixes jar me and sometimes they are smooth and soothing, but today was kind of a different deal. We really were well and truly late as we rushed out and so there was no grabbing the ipod on our way to the car. Colin, Heather and I ended up singing our hearts out all the way to school, unaccompanied by stereo help. Here's the jumbled bit: We kind of fell into a rhythm of singing a song picked by Colin, then one by Heather, then one by Colin etc. So our set looked like this:

Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters by Elton John, (Colin's pick)
Somewhere Over the Rainbow, (Heather's pick)
Think of Me, from The Phantom of the Opera, (Colin's pick)
SUPERCALFRAGALISTIC XPEALADOSSHAS, (Heather's pick)
Gui First by Humble, a local reggae band (Colin's pick)

We finally arrived at the school and my musical crazy making came to an end. I'm not one of those people who can set the ipod to shuffle. Apparently I can't set the sing-along to shuffle either. At least I know the limits of my sanity!