Still Laming it Up as a Mom and Other Weekend Activities Involving Dog Poo

Yes, Saturday was another chance to for me capture a memory of my daughter running in her very first season of cross country. (You'll remember last week's post The Lamest Mom There wherein I displayed my photography ineptitude.)

In order to get a good picture this time, we took a "sure thing," our eldest, Katie, to snap a picture, thinking "Surely her 23 year-old reflexes will be better than our 46 year-old reflexes which rival those of Koalas hopped up on Benadryl." Inexplicably, Katie missed the shot. She blamed the camera right now.

Next, Jorge said, "PLEEEEASE let me have that camera!" So we allowed him to give it a go, but he fared no better. He, too, blamed the camera.

Then I grabbed the camera, ran up the course, stood and waited until a certain runner passed who I knew was just ahead of Kristin and poised my camera in the "on" state ready to shoot.

I saw Kristin approaching, held the camera to my eye, then moved my head just to the left for a nanosecond, looked back into the camera, only to discover IT HAD SHUT OFF AGAIN AUTOMATICALLY, JUST LIKE LAST WEEK.

[Note: this event definitely qualifies for the blog subject label I created called, "I Know You Think I Make This Stuff Up" because what are the chances that the camera would shut down again in that same instant as last week?]

Does the Devil live in my camera??

I am reliving the nightmare right now as I type this. I felt just like Yosemite Sam. It's a good thing I didn't have guns or there would be crime scene tape around chunks of camera.


So here is the requisite crowd shot where you never see your own kid, except maybe her pony tail.



Further tangible evidence of my lack of skills:




The amoeba in this pic is actually my child.


And as promised, here are a couple of samples of t-shirt smack talk:


This one says, "It's time to run fast and chew bubble gum, and we're all out of gum." I have no idea what that means.





So she beat her own time again, setting a personal record. Yay, Kid! Good job!

One last note on the meet this week: One team was in a huddle before a race, and this was their chant, verbatim:

Leader: What makes the grass grow?
Huddle: Blood!
Leader: Who do we hate?
Huddle: Mothers!
Leader: What does the devil do?
Huddle: Kill, kill, kill!
All: Goooo Red Devils!

Yikes. Who knew cross country was so hard core. And weird.

Other weekend happenings:

In the middle of the night, I awoke as usual to use the restroom, but as I stepped to the sink to wash my hands, I had that weird, shocking sensation that I had stepped on either a small baked yam or ... dog poo on a throw rug.

Again:



"ACK! Argh! OH Yuck! Ugh! Blech!" at 3:00 am.

I shook it off and hoisted my leg up to get my foot into the sink, where I washed it thoroughly.

However, as it was in the middle of the night and in the dark, I lost my balance while my foot was in the sink which caused me to flail my arms in windmills and yell, "Oh. OHHH. OHHHHHHHH!" as I caught myself on the counter behind me just in time to break the fall.

At this point, Jorge, trying to sound concerned from the bed tossed me a token, "All right?"

I got back into bed grumbling, "Stupid, stupid dog." Then as we lay there trying to get back to sleep, I couldn't shake the sensation that since I had washed my foot in cold water it felt "different" from the other foot. One was cold; one was warm.

I literally could not fall asleep because my feet felt different from each other.

Sunday morning we went to church (my turn to hand out bulletins) then celebrated Katie's 23rd birthday at Chili's, and no, we didn't have cake because she wanted apple pie, so Jorge's father baked her one and cut her name into it, except he spelled her name wrong, but oh well ...














Tomorrow: the rest of the weekend and the questions for Wednesday's meme ahead of time.

Hope your weekend didn't include stepping in poo or smack-talk t-shirts. How was your weekend?