Monday, September 13, 2010

And So Begins Another Week

The day dawns on another week and somehow I expect myself to further my goals of total world domination while completing such mundane tasks as "volunteer for Science Lab" and "get kids to Little League practice." 

Oh, the trials of maintaining an everyday identity while orchestrating a world takeover.  Especially when the coach's email I got this morning says that he wants to have a "brief meeting with parents before practice" which I can only assume will be directed at me for yelling directions at Thing 2 during Saturday's game to THROW IT TO THIRD! THIRD! while he was playing catcher even though the coach told him to hold the ball but the fucking play was at third for god sakes and what kind of team are you running here?! 

And he really should be directing this at my X who saunters out on the field like an extra assistant coach during games but it will all be in vain because X doesn't show up for practices.  X only shows up for games (mostly, sometimes, when he doesn't have something else to do) and reminds everyone that this isn't how they did it when he played as a kid and would have gone all the way to the Little League World Series had his father not yanked him out of baseball all together because he feared it would mess with his golf swing because goddammit that boy's gonna go pro which he kind of did for a while but ran out of steam on the Mini Tour in Florida after getting out from under his father's oppressive thumb for a while.  So I'll take the heat for the both of us at practice and meekly say, "Yes, of course, you're the coach.  I'll just sit in the bleachers, recharge my tan and shout only innocuous things like 'Go, Red Sox!' and 'Nice cut!'" and keep the peanut gallery coaching to myself and never undermine your authority again.  but the play was at third, dammit. 

I'll have to save the Jedi Mind Tricks and the world domination scheming for grown up activity instead and see how many of the things on my mile long To Do list I can get accomplished in the next 48 hours like bending time, space, and the banking industry to cooperate with my rapidly looming deadlines to make the impending reunion weekend o' wonder the huge-est, most smashing success in recently memory setting the standard by which all future reunions are judged.  Not that I advocate judging but my competitive nature does enjoy a challenge.

And that is what Monday morning looks like from my little corner of Pleasant Valley.
[raises coffee cup] Cheers!

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