the boy
Today we spent most of the day getting E ready for Scout Camp this week. Clothes, rain gear, miscellaneous supplies all packed into a big trunk. He went last year with a different troop because his uncle's family was coming from Poland during the week his troop was scheduled to go. But this year, this year will be great, he assured us. Last year was great, too, but this year...
Once we were done and could do something fun, the rain started...
The shells on the beach just at the edge of the surf were visible for only a few moments before the white bubbles and turbulence hid them again.
In the brief time I could clearly see them in the shallow water, it was obvious most of the shells were only fragments, often smaller than the smallest coins, slivers well on their way to becoming grains of sand. Every now and then, a shard would catch my eye, and I would think, “I might try to grab that one” just before incoming wave hid them once again.
By then it was too late: once the water cleared up, the tide would have tkane the shard so far away from its original position that finding it was all but impossible. Another might catch my eye, but then the process would simply repeat itself.
To get a shell required calm and patience followed by a paradoxical ability to move quickly when needed. Hesitation meant the loss of the moment. In some ways, that’s a metaphor for live in general for many people. Everything is about getting the right moment, and when that fails, increased stress is the outcome.
Yet the older I get, the more I realize the error in living like that and the unnecessary stress it causes. Yes, I might not get that exact shell that I wanted, but there were plenty of other shells that were just as lovely, often more so.
In the evening, after we'd spent a few hours back at the Airbnb, after we'd spent some time downtown and had dinner, we headed back to the beach.
I took a few pictures:
and the Boy took a few pictures:
A short walk to end a lovely day.
And we got home, and I saw the fantastic news from the Tour de France: Mark Cavendish got his record-breaking 35th stage win, assuring him the historic title "The Greatest Sprinter of All Time!"
Almost as enjoyable as watching the win itself was seeing the other riders' reaction to the amazing win.
Yesterday there was a team from Texas who, I believe, lost all their games in straight sets. L has been there: she’s been on teams that leave a tournament day without a single win. The Texas team was up 11-8 at one point, but our girls rallied and beat them.
Today, it was more of the same: straight-set victories for the first two games, including a brutal second game with sets that were 25-10 and 25-11. “It’s good to be on this side of that score,” I said to another parent, “but we’ve been on the other side, and I know how that hurts.” It does a real number on your self-confidence, and soon, the bad mistakes (like the ones they were making: hitting serves out and sloppy serve reception) pile on each other. They reach a point that essentially, the team is just as much beating themselves as being beaten. Again, we’ve been there, too.
The final game was a bit of a different story. In the first set, the girls were quickly down 2-7, but the pulled it together and ended up taking the set 25-19. The second set started out much the same, but once again, they were able to pull back and then take the set 25-21
Today was Pink Out day, when all teams wear pink uniforms and I guess thinking at least in passing about the fact that women (and a few men) die of breast cancer every year. “Believe there is hope for a cure,” one shirt reads. It has a certain religious ring to it, but it’s antithetical to the whole enterprise of looking for a cure. While it is science and not faith, belief, or hope that will cure cancer, I understand the implied optimism in the shirt, certainly a critical element for anyone fighting cancer. One of the players I noticed yesterday is clearly just after chemo. A strong female outside hitter without a single hair anywhere on hear head, she stood out in more ways than one. Perhaps the pink encourages her. Hopefully.
As for today's pictures, I focused on the setters, which I don't think I've ever done. In a lot of ways, their the brains of the whole team: they read the defense, make quick adjustments, and then decide which hitter to set based on perceived weaknesses in the opponents' defense. Their sort of like the steering wheel of the team, or the neck. "Brain" seems to take something away from the other players.
In truth, all the players are completely critical. If you don't have good defensive specialists, you won't get a good pass to your setter. If you don't get a good pass to your setter, or if your setter is not on her game, you won't get your hitters in good position to attack. If the hitters are attacking, you won't be scoring (except from opponents' errors and blocking, and the occasional well-placed lob to the empty back corner from the setter or a DS).
As for the evening, it was games, games, games:
We’re in Orlando for this year’s AAU nationals.
We’re staying with a couple of other families in a sizable condo.
We did some shopping ,
did some gaming, and had a generally lovely evening.
Back at home, Clover picked some blueberries.
A big, ten-mile ride followed by a lot of car washing makes a delicious dinner all the more so.
Today was a day of yardwork. "Think of all the time we spend with just maintenance," K said as she looked at what I accomplished today. We're not really getting ahead with our yard with a day like today: we're just maintaining a steady state.
I turned this, for example,
into this. To do so, I borrowed my neighbor's massive trimmer that theoretically allows one to trim the top of such high bushes without a ladder. Theoretically.
It's also heavy. My shoulders ached after just a few minutes of work. That's why I took it back after finishing the first two shrubs and used our own, light electric trimmer to turn this
into this. The growth on those shrubs -- what are they called again? I can't even remember what's growing in our own yard -- has been phenomenal. I have to trim them several times a year.
I continued with the electric trimmer to turn this
and this
into this. The trimmer has its advantages: it's light and, well, I guess that's its only advantage because it's terribly stressful (perhaps not terribly, but it is an added concern) to make sure one doesn't trim the power cord along with the shrub. Not that I've ever done that. Countless times.
In the evening, another bike ride.
The Boy decided he wanted to build a kicker ramp to practice jumping.
"Will you help me?"
"Of course, but that means I'll help you -- you'll do it, I'll just coach."
So the Boy measured the wood,
cut the wood,
created the curve of the ramp, and
screwed most of it together.
When it came time to jump, he got a little nervous. "It's a bit higher than it looked in the video."
He'll get it, though. I have no doubt.