Leadership

I'm not generally one to get up on a soapbox and blather on, but I need to step up and make a statement about leadership.

You see, my oldest daughter plays high school sports. I won't say which one, but it involves a ball with seams. Somehow, two of the least likely kids on the team were "selected" captains. Usually this involves a vote, but there seems to have been some kind of skulduggery at that as well. No matter, on with the story. It seems that no one told these girls that being elected team captain does not immediately make them tin plated dictators. Being a leader is one of the hardest things to do (just look at our last couple of presidents) right, but one of the easiest things to do wrong. Boy, do these girls have it wrong. They seem to thing that barking orders and doing nothing to support the team is what a captain is supposed to do. WRONG! A captain leads through the examples they set. A captain should be the first one on the field and the last one off. A captain should be the first one to cheer their teammate when they do something exceptional and the last one to criticize them for making a mistake. A captain never uses the word "I" only the word "We". A captain doesn't sit around with a penis shaped lollipop in her mouth giggling like she's some sort of mental patient.

I'm done. The soap box has been put away for a while.

Clark

Major Dramz!!

(With all due apologies to Perez Hilton)

It was a whirlwind weekend of drama last weekend.

The dog bit a neighborhood boy. It wasn't aggressive or anything, just going after a ball the boy was playing with at the time (the dog loves to chase them). Unfortunately, my middle daughter's friend was holding the dog's leash at the time and let go. The boy's stopped by later looking for my wife or I. The mother verbally assaulted my oldest daughter asking questions like: "Where is your mother? You do have a mother, don't you? When is your mother coming home? She does come home, right?" I'm a little more old school in that any adult should feel free to correct the behavior of a minor child, so long as they are not abusive. The questions and demeanor of this woman towards my oldest was bordering on abuse. She left my darling child in tears. So much so that she couldn't speak to me on the phone about it. I was very angry, but my dearest Ellen talked me down from the ledge. She handled speaking to the mother. Thankfully, the injury was minor and the mother must have come down off of her abusive "high" and spoke to my wife about the situation. No harm, no foul, she basically said. However, she chastised my wife for having a daughter "with a sassy mouth". I can't imagine what my oldest said back, but I'm pretty sure it was in response to her abusive comments and tone.

Saturday was a completely different story. My middle daughter (it was her major drama weekend) and a friend went to the movies. It was the last weekend of an already long run for this particular movie and it was in our small town theater. Besides my daughter and her friend, there were only three other children in the movie. From what I've been told, there was disruptive behavior by the other children: running, gymnastics, and noise. My daughter's friend decided to throw some popcorn. That escalated into some chair kicking and finally some mild touching/tapping. For some reason, my daughter's friend arm looked appetizing to the oldest of the other group, so she bit her! I would have expected this from a toddler or perhaps first grader, but not a fifth grader (the approximate age of the biter). I received this frantic call from the theater (my middle daughter is old enough to attend the movies with friends without a parent) about the biting incident, so I raced right over. I confronted my daughter and her friend and found out that the biter was still there. In fact, the biter's father was sitting in the lobby of the theater! After some searching I found the movie theater manager and I requested he make a report of the incident and take down names and phone numbers since I was responsible for my daughter's friend's well being. I lectured a little bit on the proper behavior in a movie theater and what they should have done if someone was misbehaving in the theater. I had to tell my daughter's friend's parents about the incident. They said "kids will be kids". Not quite the reaction I expected, but since the bite marks were superficial, there seemed to not be any sense of urgency (in their opinion).

I'm hoping this is the last of the drama for a while...

Independence Day '06

I figured I would share our most recent adventure before I delve into the dark depths of past adventures.

It was hot! Headed into the mid-90s for sure with potential for wicked T-storms. Still, we relished the fact that we didn't have any major chores to do around the house. So we puttered here and there until the Mrs. decided we needed a swim!

Mind you, being a Grizzwold means that you have stuff, but not the greatest stuff. We have "Caviar dreams with a Spam wallet", so to speak. So me and the Mrs decided to jump into the 18' Entex pool (you know, the one that you blow up, then fill up?) and sun and fun for a bit.

Of course, since we are the Grizzwolds, immediately upon jumping into the pool, the sun is obscured by clouds. Undaunted, we figure a good cloud tan is in order. I take to sweeping the pool of grass and dead bug carcasses while the Mrs. splays herself upon a pool float. Being an 18' above the ground pool means that when anyone is laying on a pool float, only about half the pool is left for others. Therefore, I had to work around the Mrs while she got her cloud tan.

Time marches on and so do the clouds and we managed to escape the T-storms, for about half an hour when the next wave rolls in. This time, the rain pushed us back into the Manse du Grizzwold. Because we expect it, the Mrs. and I were undaunted still. Our plan continued toward the 6pm hour when we were going to the local public park for food, music, and fireworks.

The Mrs. invite her friend and their family to come join us. While the Mrs. and I have an average amount of individual friends, each of our friends family's come with the obtuse and bizarre. This particular friend has a husband who, while working in the same profession as I, can't carry a conversation past a few sentences unless he's bombed. I was pleasantly surprised to be able to carry on at least two conversations with him in the space of ten minutes that were completely coherent and relatable! He must have been blitzed! In addition to their kids, who are kind of bizarre in their own way (one is a teen the other a pre-teen...I mean who wears long sleeve shirts and blue jeans on a 90 plus degree day? the pre-teen), there is the sister of my Mrs. friend.

This particular woman is a lesbian and suffers from a "debilitating disease". Now, we're tolerant Grizzwold's and welcome all types and shapes and sizes into our home and lives. In this particular case, the sister has the fashion sense of....well....just about any French designer. Today, she was having her "blue period" and I'm NOT referring to any biological function. She was decked out...head to feet....in shades of blue. Atop her noggin was a shiny, royal blue "do-rag". She had on a blue hawaiian shirt with a surfing theme, also in accented royal blue. She had on very baggy pants whose material was not identifiable to me, but was just as shiny and just as royal blue as the "do-rag". Fortunately, she had the sense to leave her blue suede shoes at home. Instead, she wore bright white leather hitop sneakers! To accent her "Royal Blueness" she decided that bright red lipstick and blue eyeshadow were apropo! I shook my head. I wondered when this particular genie was going back into her bottle. But we are Grizzwolds, so we soldiered on to the event.

The weather had cooled, so we didn't roast too badly, but the sister was looking a bit rumpled in all of her blueness. We got some oddball looks, but we're used to that since we were also toting my three girls (14, 9, and almost 2) and their friends and all their crap along with us. But we were in it for the relaxation and the atmosphere, so we plopped down in our camp chairs and enjoyed the band and the food and the bottled water. We positioned ourselves so as to be close to the exit to avoid losing anyone in the melee after the show and far enough away from the bands to hold on to what was left of our hearing. The bands played their last songs and the soundtrack to the fireworks started.

I stared up into the sky forward of my position expecting to see the brightly colored explosions. That's where they were the last time, I thought. Where the heck are they this time? Out of the corner of my right eye I could see them. Quickly, and with all the coordination of a rugby scrum, the entire Grizzwold entourage reseated themselves "right face" from their initial position. I flopped into my seat and looked up...into a tree! Out of all the spaces we could have picked, our optimum viewing angle was interrupted by those things Al Gore savors! TREEEEEEEES! I could only really see half of the show. I watched for a few moments, craning my neck over the cooler to see if I could get a better view. Natch! The Mrs. had taken her seat behind me with the baby, so I moved from my seat and picked up the spare and moved to the more romantic location. I plopped into the seat and was immediately cooled by spilled lemonade. So now, not only could I still only see half the show, but my butt was wet! I smiled and echoed several lines of "Tree" (a la Rick Moranis from "The Bear") to keep my Mrs. in stitches and only half enjoyed the fireworks. :)

Remember, we are the Grizzwolds.