Band of Brothers and True Blood Update

No, it's not HBO.

Scott had to miss his triathlon today because he may have pulled both hamstrings while running after kids half his age. Score one for Phil and Jack.

And, it is HBO.

How is it possible that this season of "True Blood" was made by the same people as last season? The same people who brought us "Six Feet Under?" I'll admit, I wasn't avid fan in the first season, but last season was amazing. And I was all excited that they were using real wolves for the werewolves and not showing them morphing, because it cannot be done to my satisfaction.

Then they pull this crap!

B-movie gore for the vampire deaths? (When we all know from Buffy that they merely turn to dust.)

Porn for the sake of porn. (That's why we invented Cinemax.)

This dreamland fiasco that the alleged faeries live in. (Quite frankly, it reeks of being thought of by a man uncomfortable with that part of Harris's storyline, so why didn't he bring on some consultants or something? It's HBO for crying out loud.)

Erik turning from a complete bad ass into a squishy thing with...feelings...he's almost human. Yuck!

The only thing good about this season was Alcide and he's already gone. I will now go watch "Underworld" to cleanse my palette from this plate of bullshit. Bring on the lycans.

Band of Brothers

Have I mentioned how big soccer is in Bay Village? This is the first year Scott has participated in the Alumni game. Basically, if you played soccer for Bay High, you are always invited back to play the game against the upcoming varsity team.

Here is Scott (1993) pre-game with Matt "Z" Zastudil (1994). For those of you who enjoy minor celebrity sitings, Z is the brother of the Cleveland Browns punter. But to me, he's that goofy guy I worked with at Ernst & Young that's going to make partner in a couple years while I'm trying to get a cost of living raise.

I would say half the alumni team, if not more, is made up of guys that graduated in the last ten years. But there were a few out there from the late 70's (Morgan's first soccer coach being one of them) and early 80's. Z and his friend Chip (inducted into the Bay High Soccer Hall of Fame this year) were the closest to Scott's age, as his "friends" were too big of pussy's to join him (This means you, Phil and Jack.). They look good, don't they?

And here comes the competition. Yikes. These kids are wiry little bastards. I told Scott I don't remember us being so small in high school. Weren't we supposed to be full grown by then? Contrary to what this looks like, they are not line dancing. They were a highly choreographed fountain of energy.

They're good. But these old farts have gone on to play college soccer, maybe even more. We're talking about guys that have never even practiced together before tonight but could pass a ball down half the field with an accuracy that would frighten a special team sniper. And they could do it with their heads! I'm forever impressed. Morgan's former coach (the guy from the 70's) was one of the goalies and he had a few saves that you may have seen recently in the World Cup.

I mean look at the athleticism. Okay, my camera does not actually pick up athleticism well. Look at him run in a blurred fashion.

Scott let me in on some of the pre-game chatter from the coaches, one of whom organizes this event every year, as he addressed the alumni - many of whom were state champions in their day.

"Yes, those guys are younger, but you know you guys wouldn't be here if you weren't the best. So do me a favor...don't slide tackle them."

Soccer and Other Nonsense

Cup 1: If you read my prior post and remember how proud I was that I got the library to admit they were wrong, you will be happy to know that I found the Barbie's 12 Dancing Princesses DVD case in our cupboard with the rest of Morgan's movies. Oops. I waited until a different lady was working the desk to turn it in. I'm a coward.

Cup 2: Could the arctic blast that keeps knocking me over on my walk from the parking garage and causes our radiator to hammer away into all hours of the night go back to the frozen tundra where it belongs? It is almost May, for god's sake.

Cup 3: Are we having our 4th annual Kentucky Derby Party this weekend? Yes. Have we done anything to prepare other than invite people to our house? No.

And here's the actual story:

In addition to triathlons, soccer season is upon us. This is a big deal here. The kids start young. If you are 3 by April 1st you are playing. It's one of the requirements to live in this town. So if you move here and have kids and don't like soccer - get over it.

This is only our second year, because Morgan's birthday is April 6th and they make absolutely no exceptions. Because there are people like my husband that want to get their kids started out of the womb and will bribe the soccer board to get it done. (Kidding, but he did offer to coach if they would have let her in that year.)

Kids are assigned to a certain color team. Morgan is Purple this year. There are so many kids, ere go teams, that last year Morgan was on the Light Blue team. As opposed to the Dark Blue or Aquamarine team. Also last year, in an effort to get some sort of attention from 4-year-olds, the coach tried to let the kids pick an animal for the team to be (a new one every week). The first week, they were the Belugas. Courtesy of guess who?

So our first practice was last Thursday at 6pm, which is pretty much impossible to make, unless I leave work at 4. (I luckily have an understanding boss, right Bill?) Even so...I pulled into the park maybe 3 minutes late due to an unexpected diaper change. All of the kids were already ORGANIZED and running drills. Five-year-olds. I had to admit it was impressive feat for a coach, but I get the impression he has done this before.

Fortunately for me, the assistant coach and her son pulled in right behind me. We get over to the field and the coach calls for them to grab their balls and join the team. Yeah...I'm the late mom that forgot to bring her kid's ball with her. Even when specifically reminded by her husband to make sure the ball was in the car.

An extra ball is produced, which is really better anyway, since Morgan's ball has been left outside one too many times and is faded and scratched up from when Potter decides he wants to play soccer too.

I felt a little better when one of the kids kept bursting into tears every time he got kicked, because his dad forgot his shin guards. See, I take safety as my priority. She can always envision she's kicking a ball, but she will be wearing shin guards, damnit.

Morgan lasted about 5 minutes before the physical exertion caused her to drudge across the field hunched over, practically dragging her knuckles in the grass like a primate. Not a good sign. But she had a good attitude and did try very hard. Bring on game day.

This is a co-ed team of "under-5" kids and they play 4-on-4 with no goalie (and they don't even keep score..really...except we do in our head). And low and behold, something finally clicked with her. After she waved hello to her friend from preschool on the Orange team, that is. She hustled, she kicked, she fell, she got back up, she even stole the ball a couple times. I never once saw the primate drudge.

Where last year, Morgan preferred to hold the coach's hand during the game and run with him (one coach is allowed on the field at all times), this year she was right in there with boys. And yes, I admit I am one of those loud moms. Not in a bad way. I don't yell mean things. I cheer. I cheer for every kid on the team whenever they get the ball.

I think this offends people, and I don't know why. Is it because I take the time to learn all their names? Is it because I dare think that kids need encouragement? Yes, I'm yelling your kid's name, more importantly, why aren't you? I get this tiny little feeling I will be a huge embarrassment to my girls as they get. older, Might as well get it out of the way early.