Saturday, June 28, 2008
Necessary Sweat
Here at the Spanko homestead, the summer has suddenly become quite the whirlwind of activity. Some friends of ours have taken an extended European vacation, and Angela volunteered to take care of their pets. They have two of those little hairy creatures that I will occasionally refer to as “mop dogs,” because if you stuck a broomstick up their ass they would function quite nicely as mops.
Now I have offended small dog owners. My apologies.
In any event, those dogs have decided that our house is their house. Not their home, mind you, but their house. They have determined it is their duty to make sure that the house is run according to their wishes. For instance, if someone does not get up at precisely 6 am to let them out for their morning pee, they maniacally run through every room in the house, emitting their characteristic “yip” (it would be misleading to call it a “bark”) until they are attended to. If we attempt to ignore them, they pee at the foot of our bed. Because of their profusion of hair and tiny little legs, after their toilet, one must take a towel and wipe off their hairy little bottoms. Otherwise by noon-time they will smell like a port-a-john that has been fermenting in the sun for several hours.
I could site more examples, except this is not a dog blog.
Moving along, Colette has joined a local recreation fast-pitch softball league, at the urging of her high school coach. My dear daughter wishes to improve her skills, and thus her chances of playing more for her school team next season. Now, Colette never does anything half-way, so she wants to practice during all of her free time. And, of course, she wants to practice with dear, old (with emphasis on old) dad. So, I’ve spent considerable time outside in the heat throwing balls to, catching balls from, and pitching to, my younger daughter.
To increase the exhaustion, the women’s Olympic basketball team is scheduled to play an exhibition game at the university about an hour from our house. They have asked Maribel to be on the team playing against them. Naturally, Maribel is excited and wants to play well, so she has been working out frequently. And, frequently, whom does she want to shoot against? Why, dear, old (with emphasis on the old) dad. So when I’m not playing softball with Colette, I’m playing basketball with Maribel.
My arms and legs are killing me.
I’m hoping that all of this exercise will assist me in losing some of the thirty pounds or so that I have accumulated around my waist in the last few years. Of course, after this kind of activity, treating myself to beer and pizza is probably somewhat counter-productive to weight loss, but it is important to replace all of that energy I just expended, isn’t it? After all, it is for the sake of my children.
And if my children are happy, that is just fine with me.
I do, however, wish that I were in fantastic shape.
