the girl | matching tracksuits

Saturday Hike

Saturday 09 January 2021 | 0 Comments

When the Girl hears that we're thinking about a family hike, the reaction is seldom positive. When we're on the hike, there can be a bit of complaining, a bit of whining, a bit of "I'm sooo tired"-ing. We get it: hiking is not her thing. But it's K's thing -- by far her favorite outdoor activity. And I love it, too. Probably not as much as K, but I love K, so I love it more than I probably would without her.

But when her oldest friend asks her if she wants to go on a hike with him and his family, the boots come back looking like this, and there's only positive words about the hike.

I guess we need to invite him along for our next family hike.

In Which the Girl Gets Her First Phone

Thursday 07 January 2021 | 0 Comments

Reflections on a Family Evening Out

Sunday 03 January 2021 | 0 Comments

“Tomorrow we go back to normal.” It was a thought in everyone’s mind. Of course, this covid-normal is far from normal, but it has become our new normal: masks, plexiglass, and social distancing while at school. We decided, though, to have one last little hoorah and went to Barnes and Noble for a little shopping. The Boy got a book about Stan Lee comics, in part how to draw them, in part how to conceptualize comics. The latter is a little advanced for him, but he’ll grow into it. The Girl got the newest addition to a couple of series she’s been reading. I thought about getting Bob Woodward’s Rage since it was half-price in hardback, but I’m ready to be done with Trump entirely, so I just let that go.

Afterward, we went to a shoe store for the Boy to get his first pair of Vans. He explained he’d wanted them forever — “My dream shoes!” — but I don’t recall him ever mentioning them. Still, he had the money from Christmas, and we let him choose how to spend it. I wouldn’t have imagined spending my gift money for shoes at his age, but he’s his own person.

On our way out of the shopping center, a young woman stood in the median with a sign proclaiming that she was homeless. I gave her five dollars as we passed her, but I haven’t stopped thinking about her that much since then. She looked to be in her mid-twenties at most, and she appeared relatively healthy, but her shoes, tattered and filthy, told a different story. All evening, on and off, my thoughts returned to her. If she was as young as I conjectured, she’s only about a decade older than L. What would I want for L if she were in such a situation? Obviously and simply, I’d want her to call us and ask for help before she ever got to that situation. Did that young lady have no one to turn to? Was she living in a car she’d parked in one of the vast parking lots of the shopping center? And, of course, there’s the common refrain: was she faking it?

A lot of people don’t give money to beggars because they feel they’ll just waste it. “He’ll just use it to buy booze.” “She’ll just use it to buy drugs.” It’s as if they don’t want to be taken for suckers, to be seen (or to see themselves) as gullible. We’d just spent a fair amount on books, shoes, and volleyball equipment (while the Boy was buying shoes): the five dollars I gave her will not make a dent in our budget. I’d rather be generous but gullible.

First Tournament 2021

Saturday 02 January 2021 | 0 Comments

The girls won the first four, lost the last.

A good start. They're not too humbled and yet their egos got a little check.

New Year Old Pics

Friday 01 January 2021 | 0 Comments

A few more pics from K's iPhone.

2020

Thursday 31 December 2020 | 0 Comments

January

February

March

April

May

June

July

August

September

October

November

December

Beaufort Day 5

Thursday 31 December 2020 | 0 Comments

The Boy finally found his shark teeth. We went back to the beach famed for its shark teeth and within seconds, he'd found his first. It wasn't his last.

"Once I found one, I was in my prime!" he declared shortly before asking, "Daddy, what does it mean to be 'in my prime'?"

"I love when you use words you don't really know!" I laughed.

"What?! It was on Cupcake and Dino. I'm just not sure what it means."

I explained. It pleased him that he'd used it correctly.

Wigilia 2020

Thursday 24 December 2020 | 0 Comments

My first wigilia was in 1996. I'd been in Poland for only five months at that point, and I celebrated it with the family in Radom with whom I stayed when we Peace Corps volunteers first arrived in Poland. The fact that I first went to Poland in the Peace Corps says a lot about how much the country has changed. We were there to teach English and help NGOs catch their balance, and we spent twelve weeks in Radom beginning to learn Polish and starting to get an understanding of Polish culture. A few months later, my host family invited me back to Radom to spend Christmas with them. That it was the last time I ever saw them is evidence of how close we were. I don't remember much about that first wigilia other than the fact that I was always a little uncomfortable. My host-brother and I never quite got along (I believe he questioned my intelligence, for he often behaved that way), so that first wigilia would certainly not be the standard by which to judge the tradition.

My second wigilia celebration was with the family that lived across the river from me in Lipnica, the family that became so much like family that I found myself thinking, "So this would have been what it was like to have a relationship with my host family like others had with theirs." It was everything wigilia should have been the year before. Afterward, we all walked down to babcia's house had continued the celebration with the extended family.

My third wigilia, in 1999, I was in Berlin with a friend. We didn't have much of a wigilia.

Wigilias four and five really didn't happen. I was back in America and not really close to anyone who celebrated it. Besides, it's a time for family: one doesn't invite mere close friends.

Since 2001, though, I've been involved in wigilia celebrations yearly. I spent 2001 with the family from wigilia two. I was at that time renting a room from them, and it just seemed logical. And there was no one else I would or could have celebrated it with.

It was much like wigilia two: warm and friendly, like with family.

It was with my fourth real wigilia, in 2002, that wigilia became a true wigilia. K and I were by then dating. Our future seemed to be coming into focus as a future together. L and E weren't even thoughts in our minds but we were starting to feel like a family.

Wigilia 2003 was much the same as 2002 but with one difference: K and I were engaged. L and E were thoughts in our minds, inevitable joys that we had not yet named or met but were certainties in some sense.

Since then, wigilia has been the same wigilia that everyone else has celebrated: a time with family. Our last wigilia in Poland, in 2004, was our first as a married couple. K's brother came with his wife and son -- now eighteen -- and we celebrated as all Polish families celebrate.

Moving to America, we celebrated every wigilia with one constant: Nana and Papa. Other friends joined from time to time. Some friends in the passing of years become more than just friends. Then we added L. Then E. And things went along like that for several years, until we lost Nana. So while there's always been a certain continuity from wigilia to wigilia, from year to year, we have made adjustments along the way.

K has made adjustments in how she makes the zakwas for the barszcz. This year, instead of the ceramic container with a slice of bread on top, she left the beets and garlic in water and garlic alone, only much longer than the normal four days. It was a recipe she found online, I believe. The result: zakwas so good that she said she could drink it by itself. It was good, I thought, but not so good that I'd consume it as a refreshing beverage.

We've made adjustments in the gifts we arrange for Santa to give the kids. This year, we made sure Santa brought mainly art supplies for the Boy and money for the Girl.

So we've made adjustments significant and less so, but the constants threaded through it all are simple enough.

Previous Years

Wigilia 2001

Wigilia 2002

Wigilia 2003

Wigilia 2004

Wigilia 2005

Wigilia 2006

Wigilia 2007

Wigilia 2008

Wigilia 2009

https://matchingtracksuits.com/2010/12/25/wigilia-2010/

Wigilia 2011

Wigilia 2012

Wigilia 2013

Wigilia 2014

Wigilia 2015

Wigilia 2016

Wigilia 2017

Wigilia 2018

Wigilia 2019

Friday Afternoon and Evening

Friday 18 December 2020 | 0 Comments

In the afternoon, after school and a little break, we had some trampoline time as well as some exhaust-the-dog-kicking-her-ball-for-her-to-chase time.

Later in the afternoon, the Boy and I headed out to do some adventuring. We haven't done that in quite some time. I think we overdid it a bit and both got a little burned out. Today, though, we did our full adventuring circle, complete with cameras. The Boy hasn't edited his pictures yet, so I won't include theme here

In the evening, a walk. A great way to usher in winter break 2020.

14

Wednesday 16 December 2020 | 0 Comments

Today is L’s birthday. She’s fourteen, which means there’s enough adult in her now to imagine what she’s going to look like in her twenties. When she was born she looked like just about every other newborn: squinting and wrinkly, she looked like the most helpless and pure being in existence. Her skin was softer than anything I’ve ever touched, and she smelled like nothing else in the world, a creamy, buttery odor with musky notes of sourness and a base of sweet, freshly baked bread. I held her in my arms for the first time and realized at an elemental though conscious level that we would never be the same again. We were three, with our latest addition being the most helpless member of our new family.

I was so nervous holding her, worried that I might hold her the wrong way, might grip too hard for fear of dropping her, might not support this or that appendage properly and thus allow grave damage. I spent the first several weeks worried that I was doing something wrong. Those weeks of “is this right?” worry stretched to months, then grew into years, and while the end of that worry is in sight, I know that I will worry for the rest of my life about whether or not I did it wrong.

I see pictures of her infancy now, and I find myself thinking that I’d give significant money to have one more opportunity to hold her as an infant, to have her head nestled into my neck and her feet not even touching my belt. Perhaps that’s the magic of grandchildren: it’s a return to a time of helplessness when we can appreciate it and not simply worry about it.

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