Celebrate Small Football Stadiums

This post marks my continued participation in the Celebrate the Small Things blog hop, originated on Viklit's blog (Scribblings of an Aspiring Author). Please join us every Friday in expressing gratitude for everything from tiny triumphs to giant sports facilities. G'head, click on the list below.

     Today I'm grateful that our high school football stadium has made it to the top ten in the MLive's Best Stadium search. I'm not a big football fan and I only visit the stadium when forced. Since my daughter marches in the band, I'm required to attend every home game, and occasionally I drop my son off on the field for soccer practice. Football is our sport, you see, and when I say football, I'm not talking about the American version. You might wonder why I care at all about the outcome of this vote. I guess I just feel that the fact we've gotten this far in this contest says something about my little town....something that I love.

     We aren't going to win. There is no way in Hell, MI that we're going to win (Yes, there actually is one. I might even retire there.) The stadium in the lead has 30 thousand votes or so, ten times more than us. The one ranked second is running neck-and-neck with the first one, with votes in the 30,000's. And still we keep voting. It's kind of inconceivable, seeing the odds are stacked so high against us. I vote every time I think about it, and since I'm at my computer all day long trying to make my goal of 50,000 words for National Novel Writing month (1/5 there! Whoo hoo!), it's working out okay. (You can vote every hour on the hour right here all the way until November 17). Other people must be doing the same, because--while a neighboring school district that also made the top ten is losing ground--we continue to toggle between seventh and sixth place, and have gotten as high as fifth.

      We won't give up. No matter how unlikely winning becomes. And that's a pretty good summary of the essence of the people here. When it comes to our kids, we won't quit. We'll keep plugging away, refusing to be discouraged by the gargantuan strides of others all around us. They might think they're on the right track, but only time will tell.

     Unfortunately, I don't think that slow and steady will win this race this time. But it makes for a pretty decent place to live. And a kick-ass philosophy (I'm talking a Kim-Kardashian-size ass too, Like the one plastered across Paper) to apply to larger issues, like real life. Or Nano. (Slow and steady just might win that one.)

     Besides, the stadium is super pretty--I mean, handsome. (Football stadiums probably don't consider it a compliment to be called pretty.) Already a backdrop for some fond family memories, it's sure to provide more of the same for my kids over their high school years. Sometimes, if I close my eyes, I'd swear I'm being sucked into an episode of Friday Night Lights. Then I forcibly redirect myself into The Music Man. That's more my cup of tea.

If you liked this post and have a second (that's literally all it takes), vote for Ortonville-Brandon--Blackhawk Stadium.

And join us on the hop, below!

Chill

Today I'm grateful for apple-cider air ripened with sticks of cinnamon, mounds of pulp and a little smoke chaser--just the way I like it. The liquid equivalent of this magic scent I'll slurp out of a chintzy plastic cup the size of a giant's thimble, while wasps bump at my elbows hoping I'll spill some for them. Generations of orchard-keepers will watch and nod, satisfied their work is done.
I'm thankful for soft sweatshirts with frayed sleeves, nubby flannels, leaves that make your car windshield into a mobile kaleidoscope, summer flowers hanging on for dear life as full-figured mums nudge them aside. Scarecrows, corn mazes, screaming football fans. The chill that snubs your spine in favor of the nasal passages, leaving you wondering how you ever took a single breath before. I don't care what the results to my color season surveys say. I'm an Autumn.
Happy Friday! Happy Fall!

I Love Jennifer Lawrence Like a Daughter

     Why? Jennifer Lawrence reminds me of my daughter. This interview on Conan made my day. If you watch it, you’ll be dying laughing but—if you’re like me—you’ll also have a bittersweet flash of déjà vu as you recall the pain of adolescence. Don’t have time to watch? Here’s the gist: Jennifer Lawrence wet the bed at thirteen years of age and then raced off to school to brag about it, thinking it was cool. MY DAUGHTER WOULD DO THIS. Yes, it defies logic. And, yes, she is a very logical person in every other aspect BESIDE the area of social graces. But my daughter wouldn’t hesitate to announce to the world that she’s a bed-wetter, a nose-picker, a toe-nail chewer--any gross thing you can imagine.

     Now, I don’t know if Jennifer Lawrence went home that day and voiced her utter astonishment that the kids at school didn’t embrace her bed-wetting amazingness, but I have been witness to many such A-ha moments with my daughter. It’s a horrible thing to see until she shakes it off and gets on with life. I don’t understand why she won't spare herself this pain. It's easy! Simply don't talk about it. When I was a kid, all I ever wanted to do was fit in. My deepest nightmare involved the very thing that Jennifer Lawrence described on Conan. Me, the center of attention, on the bleachers while the student body discovered some dark secret of mine. I would’ve been horrified if anyone ever found out I wet my bed when I was five, let alone thirteen. Granted, my daughter is only eleven. But still.

     “What were you thinking?” is my usual response when she tells me about the lengths she’s gone to in order to stand out. I often sink into a chair contemplating the enormity of having given birth to my photo negative. How does that happen?

     Her response is never: Gee, I guess I wasn’t thinking mom. It’s: I don’t know. 

     Translation: I was way past thinking about what was going on in front of me, and on to thoughts of next week or three weeks from now.

     She has ADHD. I forgot to mention that (although I have in other posts.) It means that she and the Border collie get along swimmingly. They are kindred spirits. Her and I? Sometimes not so much.

     Until Jennifer Lawrence came along. Now that I think about it, my daughter very well might grow up to be an academy-award winning actress who goes around astonishing people by being so comfortable in her own skin; so star-struck and congratulatory to colleagues vastly inferior to her; so lovable and real. (I bet Jennifer Lawrence could wet the bed TODAY and get a gazillion likes for it on Instagram.) She’s got the guts to say: “Photoshop my body? I don’t think so, generic magazine catering to Hollywood’s irrational whims. I’m fine the way I am.”  She tripped at the Oscars without a flinch and made it the coolest thing ever. I want to trip at the Oscars!!  Or I’ll go even further: I never want to walk up stairs the regular way again! Let’s all trip up stairs in honor of Jennifer Lawrence’s utter coolness, and when we do let’s scream: “Did you see that? I just did a Jennifer Lawrence!” 

     Right now my daughter might come off as kind of weird and completely clueless about what she is and isn’t supposed to say out loud. But there are also occasional bouts of brilliance too, which will probably translate to her career in adulthood. And people like Jen will inspire her to keep going with her gut and acting like herself.

     That’s why I not only love Jennifer Lawrence like a daughter, but I will love my daughter like she has the potential to be the next Jennifer Lawrence. Because she does.
BTW: The small thing I'm celebrating this Friday (other than JENNIFER LAWRENCE and the fact that no one wet the bed in my house last night) is that I've made the second round in the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award.

Small Things

Be warned: I've joined a blog hop. Hosted by VikLit, it's supposed to be limited to Fridays, but I can't wait until then to celebrate the small things. I want to celebrate them now! So here goes.
     I'll start with an extremely small one: my bank account. December is a horrible month for our finances and it's been compounded this year by an instance of credit card fraud. We're not alone in this, but we were lucky to find out about it the day before all the Target customers discovered they were victims of the retailer's data breach. I imagine we squeaked in just before the bank was flooded with calls, so I'm hoping the investigation will go forth without a hitch. And I'm thanking God for the small favor that there even is an investigation, because it means we probably won't be held accountable for the charges. Unfortunately, the reason I'm so confident of this is that it's happened before. On the bright side, the situation makes for a good excuse to post a scene from one of my favorite holiday movies. Here's Bing Crosby in White Christmas, reminding us not to sweat the small stuff. I'm going to take his advice.