We are in deep shock on this Sunday night contemplating what could
have possibly gone wrong this weekend. We have no explanations for how both
football games and both soccer games ended in losses. I know. You are in shock,
too, because you know that it couldn't possibly be due to my boys' lack of
skills or talent because I sing their praises every chance I get. Rest assured,
we blame it all on the wind and Keagan's lack of wrist bands.
Oh, those lovely plush bands that were now matted with dirt, milk, and the juice of multiple tangelos. They were in need of a good wash, and I didn't want my boys wearing the Jane Fonda sweat bands to begin with, much less now that the color was no longer easily recognizable. I have been told the wrist bands are not accessories but actually serve some important role when it comes to winning. That role has not been defined for me as yet, but they are ready for next Saturday's series of games just the same.
We didn't know what to do on Saturday when Team United lost only its second game in six seasons. We did what anyone does in mourning. We ate. We ate some more. And then we had dessert. Zum Rhinegarten allowed us to bury our sorrows in great food and we left in much better spirits.
We woke up Sunday morning feeling certain Sunday would be a much better day. The green dragons were just not fierce enough, though, and we lost. We did what our experience from Saturday night taught us. We ate. Risotto covered in olive oil and butter did just the trick. We topped it all off with ice cream.
I now have a week for the palms of my hands to recover from the constant stinging I now feel after hours of encouraging hand clapping and fist clenching cheers. I also have a week for my heels to recover from hours of jumping up and down and then writhing in pain with each opposing team's score.
With my own healthy heels and Keagan's clean wrist bands, I feel certain next weekend will end with wins. And if it doesn't, I will be forced to purchase a pair of orthopedic shoes. Black, thick soled, old lady shoes.
Amazingly my heels feel better already.
Oh, those lovely plush bands that were now matted with dirt, milk, and the juice of multiple tangelos. They were in need of a good wash, and I didn't want my boys wearing the Jane Fonda sweat bands to begin with, much less now that the color was no longer easily recognizable. I have been told the wrist bands are not accessories but actually serve some important role when it comes to winning. That role has not been defined for me as yet, but they are ready for next Saturday's series of games just the same.
We didn't know what to do on Saturday when Team United lost only its second game in six seasons. We did what anyone does in mourning. We ate. We ate some more. And then we had dessert. Zum Rhinegarten allowed us to bury our sorrows in great food and we left in much better spirits.
We woke up Sunday morning feeling certain Sunday would be a much better day. The green dragons were just not fierce enough, though, and we lost. We did what our experience from Saturday night taught us. We ate. Risotto covered in olive oil and butter did just the trick. We topped it all off with ice cream.
I now have a week for the palms of my hands to recover from the constant stinging I now feel after hours of encouraging hand clapping and fist clenching cheers. I also have a week for my heels to recover from hours of jumping up and down and then writhing in pain with each opposing team's score.
With my own healthy heels and Keagan's clean wrist bands, I feel certain next weekend will end with wins. And if it doesn't, I will be forced to purchase a pair of orthopedic shoes. Black, thick soled, old lady shoes.
Amazingly my heels feel better already.
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