Boy had to be at the middle school's football game last night to beat on round loud things, and Reba was supposed to work the concession stand, and I had really, REALLY wanted to stay home, but Rebecca wanted to go to the game, too, since it was homecoming, after all, and then Ashley decided she wanted to go, so I couldn't very well sit home with Catherine and leave Bec sitting in the stands by herself (which is what would have happened, because there would have been no way Oldest would have deigned to be nice and sit there through the game with her) SO, we all loaded up the veehickle and drove over to the stadium.
As usual, there were the clots of oblivious kids walking around the track around the field in knots and clutches and packs, gossiping and ignoring the game, and there was Catherine, who was so full of P & V that she couldn't sit still if she'd been shot with a tranquilizer dart, and there was the disappointment of both the 7th and the 8th grade teams losing, and there were several moments of light rain that caused me to have to get us down out of the stands and run under a roof overhang by the restrooms so we wouldn't get dampened.
The one insight I had occurred to me as I saw the fifty-jillioneth mom come walking by who seemed determined to relive her youth by trying to wear something she bought in the junior's department. The insight I had is that football stadium lighting is absolutely the worst thing for these ladies, because the lights seem to have a way of making everything look more extreme--if you really are young and attractive, the lights seem to double your smooth, dewy glow, but let me tell you what--if you smoke two packs of Virginia Slims a day in between trips to the tanning bed, those big old lights turn you into something out of a haunted house. And it really does highlight that impossible-to-find-in-nature hair color, too. The beneficial effect of the lights was also confirmed by the presence of the Breck Girl Mom (whom I've not seen in ages), who seems to have found the secret to immortality, or at least a highly durable form of perky redheaded cuteness.
As for Boy, he once again impressed me with his ability to play the drums. He's always beating and banging on the furniture and other things at the house, but it's hard to tell what he's actually accomplishing. Over by the bandstands, though, he's got it going on--at once focused on the director yet also loose and grooving. He's actually playing music, rather than just matching the notes on the paper to beats on a drum. And it's not just him--they all sound about as good as the high schoolers, who are none too shabby when it comes to such things.
Pretty darned cool.
And it was pretty darned cool as far as the temperature, too. Several folks in the stands showed up wearing shorts. Including one of them who I've already mentioned was quite full of silly energy.
She slept well last night, that's for sure.
Posted by Terry Oglesby at October 13, 2006 01:26 PM