S is for Sweet

I really need to carry a camera more often. If I did that, I wouldn't be reduced to blatantly copying my friends' Facebook pix to use here. Oh well. If you're my FB friend, lock your profile pix down tightly lest you be the focus of this blog some day. And those of you who aren't yet my FB friends? Keep your real names well-hidden from me. It's your only hope.

While you're no doubt rendered speechless at the quality of my introduction to today's post, I will risk impressing you even further by reminding you that today is A-Z or Z-A Mondays hosted by Jen.

And now, since I seem to be majoring in abrupt and awkward transitions, it's time to discuss how the letter S is for sweet. Do you see the afore-mentioned picture? It's my friend whose job it was on Friday to be MOB/mother of the bride. The wedding was beautiful with a bride and groom uncontainably in serious love. I was able to fit into a dress, so I was clothed, and all was well.

What an unexpected friendship the MOB and I have had since that year a century ago when I was her son's Sunday school teacher. I was an about-to-be mother; she was a seasoned veteran. And one Sunday, in a crowded restroom, we began to talk. Amazingly enough, that conversation is still going on though we have finally moved out of the restroom.

Since the beginning, she has always created enough time to listen, to counsel, to pray with and for me and my family, and to laugh. I think she's a wonderful mom, a great wife, and a friend. Now, wait. I forgot to add an adjective before friend, so here's a few. Just take your pick knowing that each one is the truth:

smart friend

humorous friend

dear friend

my friend.

Oh yes, S Sertainly Stands for Sweet.

Z-A Mondays: T is for ...

We are working our way from Z to A with a stop this week at the letter T.

Now, what does t represent in this house?

Tutoring? (I do dread the start of school and homework!)

Topsy turvies? (...back when I still had hope that they would work)

Targets? (He's a "real shooter" is taken literally around here.)

Since we are in the waning days of summer, I'll stick with a happy "t."

T is for trampoline.

After all these t's, I really do hope we are actually on the letter T this week. To find out, check out the other A-Z or Z-A bloggers.

A-Z Monday: V is for Volleyball

When I first saw the A - Z Monday meme courtesy of Suz's blog, I was intrigued. How simple. How fun. How much I wanted to join. They were on the letter M. I had the same reaction when they were on the letter N, the letter R, and by the time they got to the letter X, I had stopped promising that I would join the fun.

I made a big deal about missing the alphabet train, and then Busy Bee Suz told me they were going back through the alphabet AGAIN. But guess what letter they were on? X. After looking through my brain, I opted out of the letter X option.

But look where I am today! I'm here just in time for the letter V. And for me, V is volleyball.

Volleyball first flirted with me back in 5th grade.

"Come on, Sweetie. You want to play! How hard can it be to hit a ball?" it cooed to me gym class after gym class.

So I took a swing and hit that ball just as hard as I could - right into the net - and my turn was over.

We played again in 7th grade, 8th grade, and 9th grade gym class. And every.single.time I hit that simple little ball, it went into the net or directly out the side of the court. Then there was the time it hit the girl's head right in front of me.

Volleyball left me bruised in arm, bruised in ego, bruised in career goals.

So I grew up and got married and my ever so sweet husband who knew me very well, signed us up for a volleyball league.

Okay, that was a bad argument, but I am a wonderful sport and played for two seasons.

Again, the ball went sideways, off other players' heads, and sometimes backwards.

When I announced my retirement from volleyball, no one cried or gave me a cruise or a gold watch. They just said, "Okay," and quickly ran the other way.

Last week, I saw a volleyball set for the pool. It was marked down significantly, and it was cooing, "Come on, Sweetie. You know you want to play! How hard can it be to hit a ball?"

I thought about how I am still taller than 3 of my kids and I am getting in shape. I thought how there would be no super athletes trying to spike the ball off my face. I thought how I could look like an Olympic athlete right here in my back yard.

The net came home and set up. The kids got in the pool. The ball went flying out of the water and I went to retrieve it. I hit it back to the kids and the ball flew right over the pool. The second attempt sent the ball under the pool deck. The last attempt hit my daughter's friend in the head.

I like volleyball, but it's plain to see,

the oh so easy sport of volleyball

really hates me.