Money or a miracle? I have so many thoughts, so many incidents lately, I'm still massively perturbed over the terrible call(s) Friday night at the Wild Card Game. When one watches a game on TV, one only sees that which the camera shows. When one is in the stadium, one sees all player's positions as well as everything else going on. That night, as Braves fans literally erupted, was a super bang-up night.
Interestingly enough my own inner trauma was not reactivated during all that. I felt no fear at all, I was just so irked at that mother of all bad calls. I was loudly vocal certainly, but I'd never have thrown something I'd paid that much money for in the first place.
I'd brought my own bottle of water in the stadium. Duh. And trail mix. The crowd was so angry, righteously furious, that all vendors immediately shut down. You couldn't even have gotten that nasty cotton candy at that point. Security flew into place and I heard later that the Atlanta Police Department had immediately been notified. There were more'n 50,000 pissed off fans expressing complete outrage.
But my own trauma was later spiking over a missing person in our county. I didn't know him personally, but I know his wife, she'd taught Daniel in elementary school, I knew his kids and grandkids as they go to our church. His son, a grown man, is the Assistant Fire Chief out here, and had called me one afternoon when he'd suspected a kid of mine was up to something. I appreciate that.
For four long nights this 72 year old man was missing, he had health problems, and had disappeared one county over after deer hunting. Our Sheriff's office had called for search volunteers and I'd talked it over with Martin. I'm like a camel, I can stand the heat and I can walk long distances, I can go without food and water, so I felt I could help and had told myself I'd go tomorrow if he hadn't yet been found, as then I wouldn't have to worry about my kids because they' be in school.
There were miles and miles of woods to be covered with few paved roads. I was also kind of afraid my big boys didn't need to be the one walking up on a deceased man, I felt it was getting kind of dire.
We prayed for him in church this morning, and then I noticed Beth get out of her seat and walk up to an associate pastor. Yolie'd reached for her phone and seen messages that confirmed Mr Don had been found alive.
Thank God! I'm incredulous, yet completely overjoyed.
In the meantime we'd had Homecoming Dance drama, strum, and turmoil. Oh my goodness, my sons told me at the very last minute they needed corsages, Allen needed black pants all of a sudden, Lily wanted/needed another pair of shoes, plus we had three soccer games, three soccer team pictures times, Sabrina had a 7:30 a.m. SAT test time, and a friend was in town trying to reach me to take the kids and I out to eat.
I wish.
Yolie went and did the shopping for me while I attended all the games that afternoon.
I had not properly budgeted, had gravely underestimated the costs, which ended up being over $400 total, which is probably actually right low for seven teenagers. Lily's dress was the biggest expense, but that was her first store bought dress in 15 years, she deserved it. Sabrina brilliantly borrowed a dress, most of the boys wore second hand or borrowed stuff, but it was still $42 for tickets, $139 for Lily's dress, another $58 for some shoes and pants, about $100 for the eating out crap, $44 on corsages, plus other miscellaneous items.
I'm guessing most teenagers in this county had spent about $300 each, since beauty salons were probably involved, and all the et cetera stuff that I can't comprehend, not being much of a girl myself.
I'd shelled out $50 for JoJo's wrestling shoes at Sports Academy. I looked at some lovely yet comfy UnderArmour yoga pants for me, but I screamed aloud at the $59 price tag. "Bite me, " I hissed at the hapless pants.
And then bingo, you already know where this is going, I found a men's small pair of Underarmour sweat pants at a yard sale for $2. "Will you take a buck?" I asked the lady, knowing she was just trying to get rid of all her crap. Daniel later called 'em 'boy's soccer pants.' Whatever. Used stuff means it's pre-shrunk, I like that aspect of it.
"Of course," she replied, and I walked off happily, liking the fact that it was men's pants because they have better pockes than dainty women frou frou stuff. And I saved an imaginary $58 bucks.
So at another yard sale I found two Pottery Barn black bedside tables with wooden drawers, not that pressed wood mess, one for $25, the other for $15. OK, if God wants me to have that, it'll be there and unbought later. I came back four hours later, and offered $20 for both and the lady said, "Sure, I don't wanna have to drag them both back inside."
Kind of like this $399 one, except black...and at $10.
And my Nando scored five goals to win his soccer game, Allen scored four to win his game at the last second as the whistle blew. I was so proud. Tabby too won her game.
Yet I remain absolutely hacked over the Braves game, unable to shake it off.
Allen and Sierra. I'm waiting on a picture of Sierra's mom and I, taken in contrast to the glammed up teens. She's a Vet, was tending to cows, and I'm a dirt digger.
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2 comments:
As a mother of 9 children, 4 teenage daughters, I can truly appreciate the costs involved in the homecoming rituals.
It's a bear, isn't it?
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