Writing Wrongs

August 26, 2005

So now that I have the time to write a blog entry, the wireless connection is flaking out on me, which means this will get posted when it gets posted.

Andrew started football this week, pee-wee, fourth-grade football, but still, it’s pee-wee, fourth-grade tackle football. And of course, he loves it. Bob was at a client dinner on equipment pickup night, so it was left to mom to figure out where the football storage shed was on the vast acreage that is the high school.

We did find it, but what a weird vibe. What is it about stepping on the grounds of a high school--any high school--that makes you feel like you’re back in high school? We enter the cavernous hold, get Andrew checked off, then the lady says, “Okay, Mom, you can meet him on the other side.”

Other side? And there my son disappears into the equipment storage area. Alone. So what--he goes in a boy and comes out a man? Egad. So Kyra and I wait. And wait. And we wait a little more. The equipment area must be huge, because a legion of boys emerges long before we ever get a glimpse of Andrew.

Outside, we’re surrounded by a legion of coach dads, one in particular, with his horn-rimmed glasses and knee-length shorts, could time travel back to 1955 and not appear out of place. Some things, I conclude, never change.

At last, Andrew stumbles out, wearing shoulder pads, all red-faced from trying on helmets. The next day, Bob outfits him with the rest of the gear Andrew needs. Some things--like mouth guards and jock straps--are better left to dad.

He had a fantastic practice last night. They’re thinking he’ll play running back or maybe even quarterback. Although I think the idea of calling plays makes Andrew a little nervous.

Anyway, I have a mini-break and hope to get back to blogging and writing, and moving my progress status up a few notches. Keep you eye on it. (Yeah, I know, it’s like watching paint dry.) I might even finish my concert recap.

Charity Tahmaseb wrote at 9:59 a.m.