My hero of a son sits here with a broken foot.
Twist and take it, they say. The wild pitch. Get on base. He did. He broke his 12 year old size 9 (men's) foot. After 23 days in polyester, 3 hours a day in 103 heat, he's out. His team will probably go to the State tournament and he'll be cute in his jersey on the bench. Not the beast of a player with manners he's come to be. His cutter moves and drops like a freak of nature and the outfield moves way out when he steps to the plate. My hero, my 135 pound baby is sidelined and I am sad. The Norman's will be there though for the rest of Districts and State to support the Boys of Goochland. They are on fire. Like the man he's becoming, my son will take the heat - just not deliver it this time. The other teams in Virginia just got lucky.
Look at this.
Organic cuke. My party favor for showing up at the 6 AM Bikram Yoga class yesterday. I have no words.
Feeling really really sad about my boy but really really happy about my cuke. Nuf said.
Going for a run. Looking for balance. Do you have any?