Heaven Is A Place Where Nothing Ever Happens

So say the Talking Heads. And I agree. It was a fine weekend, and we had no social engagements whatever. Almost had one, but Janneke begged off, citing a need to just be at home, and called Brad and Betsy to tell them - and was told by Betsy that it was a relief, as she had also had a hunger to hunker. So we settled in for some long winter's naps and such.

Observe:



T making a face. That's about as heart-pounding as it's going to get.

We did get some snow this morning, and this is what it looked like:



Then this afternoon, I offered to take the kids to the Williams College gym and let them run around and shoot hoops. But it turned out there was a wrestling match, so we watched that until it ended, and then Q got to shoot some. It went a little something like this:



The wrestling match was very compelling. Willilams vs Wesleyan, a grudge match if ever there was one. Williams was ahead by 3 when the heavyweights wrestled, and going into the third period, the Williams guy was ahead, one to nothing. Very closely fought match. And toward the end, the Wesleyan guy reversed our man and pinned him. So Wesleyan won. I found myself shouting encouragement, clapping, and jumping and covering my head in anguish at the end. I'll have to make some more of these next year. This, apparently, was the last match of the year. Q got excited too, doing a lot of cheering, and I was explaining things to him throughout as he cocked his ear toward me and nodded, taking it all in. At one point he tugged on my sleeve, excited, it seemed, and said "Papi! Yo NUNCA voy a hacer esto!" (Daddy! I'm NEVER going to do this!) Hey, the kid knows himself well. Some of us just haven't got that inner anger and inherent toughness that are pretty much indispensible if you're going to practice hand-to-hand combat two hours a day for half the year. (The other prerequisite for wrestling, which also eliminates Q from the grappler ranks: A complete lack of talent for basketball.)

One of T's friends was there (his dad is the wrestlinig coach), and they ran around together during and after the match, along with his older brother, who's in Q's grade. I also talked to their mother, and grandparents, who speak Spanish, and had overheard me talking to (scolding, actually) one of the kids. One is Latina from Brooklyn, the other an Ecuadorian. They were interested to hear about my upcoming trip - Ah, yes. The trip. And my heart DOES begin to pound! Huh. Guess it's exciting in a different way around here. A kind of sleepless way.

At home, I parlayed Janneke's upset at my impending departure into a foot rub. This inspired the children:



Q gets Tie's feet...



And then they switch.

And so endeth another weekend. I randomly checked out another family's blog the other day - I hit the "Next Blog" button at the top of my dashboard for these blogs, and met a family of basketball-coaching Christians. And I have to say, their blog does not rock in the slightest. Their entries have titles like "At The Game", "Jordan's First Haircut", and "The Best Banana Bread Ever". Bush-voters, flag-wavers, SUV-drivers, mega-church-goers...I should start trash-talking them, leaving comments on their blog, mocking them. It would be a continuation of the eternal struggle: wrestlers versus basketball players (OK, Q, T, and Janneke aren't wrestlers, but I am), Christians versus atheists, tall versus short, darkness versus light. (We're "light".) Then maybe one day we could meet somewhere for a rumble.

When you're a Jet, you're a Jet all the way...