Drunk Eileen is naked, still leaning against the wall. I'm about to kick her into a snowbank by the back patio until it warms up enough to drag her towards the woods. In a glorious purge I have moved Christmas back into basement bins and organized the entire works so next year is easier.
Mr. G got a life-size Ray Rice Fathead for Christmas, which required painting his room before we could adhere him to the wall. My old yoga pants are splattered with Harvest Moon (which really should be called "NFL Gold") and Eggplant paint. The walls I haven't yet painted over are porous as a dry sponge, so this project required 3 coats of paint--a whopping 4 gallons. His room is huge and I am sick of hanging out in it. It does look nice all freshly painted, however, and it forced his hand in cleaning it, too.
I could go on and on about the weather, but all I'll say is this: Jen, I have experienced extreme heat and extreme cold. Extreme cold is worse. Even in extreme heat, you can step outside after dark without fearing for your life. There's no freedom in this weather--we're trapped indoors and every single trip out is an unbearable grind of bundling up and moving fast to the next indoor location. I despise it.
Thank God for NFL playoffs (Go Pack!) and Downton Abbey and season 5 of Dr. Who on DVD. The kids and I have plenty to entertain us.
What else? There have been basketball games and today was the kick-off for wrestling. Mr. B is going to try wrestling this year! That surprised me--years ago he went to one practice and came home vowing never to return. Not sure what changed his mind about it, but the program in our town is exceptionally well-run with a focus on character and fun. Most kids only compete in 3 tournaments and the season only lasts 8 weeks. It's worth mentioning that the program is run by former state champion wrestlers and our high school team is ranked 8th in Wisconsin. So, starting Tuesday I have not one but TWO wrestlers hitting the mats around here.
Back to basketball--Mr. G was on a tournament team and they lost only one game the entire season--the finals of yesterday's tournament (lost by 1 point--so close!). I was proud of my son, he showed tremendous sportsmanship after a foul (unintentional) that knocked an opponent flat on his back. Mr. G was the first one over to him extending a hand to help him up. Then, after the boy took his turn at the free throw line, Mr. G jogged over to high-five him. I'm glad in a way that Mr. G's team lost their last game. They've come home from the other tournaments with first place trophies, which is wonderful, but there is much to learn in losing, too. Also of note: his coach was among the best coaches I have ever seen. Patient, never yelling, always explaining, never tolerating ball hogging, constantly encouraging teamwork. These players ran plays with military precision and passed the ball better than many middle school teams. I mean, they PASSED the ball. They would pass that ball around for a full minute to wait to take a shot if that's what Coach L told them to do. Most importantly, Coach L had them thinking about the game, playing thoughtfully and not rushing to jam a basket and sprint back down court. Mr. G learned a lot about strategy from Coach L--as a 3rd grader. Sure, it was a great group of boys playing, considerate and respectful and athletic, but even with the talent playing I remain mightily impressed by how well they were coached. My son was lucky to play on this team.
Have we overdosed on sports talk in this post yet? Better to discuss sports than the weather, I guess. Or the long lines and empty shelves at the grocery store.
Spill it, reader. The sport you most love watching. And no, cheerleading doesn't count as a sport.