The rules of the game!

I don’t know how your family’s conversation goes when you’re sitting around the dinner table, but this is how ours went the other night.

“Fifty boys went out for baseball,” My daughter said excitedly.

“Is that good?” I asked.

“It’s the most they’ve ever had. They’re going to have a great year.”

“Why did so many boys go out this year?”

“Two girls joined the team.”

“Is that why?”

“Yes.”

“What’s that about?”

My son-in-law popped into the conversation, “If there isn’t a girl’s team in a certain sport, then they can play with the boys. That’s why a girl was on the boy’s wrestling team this year.”

“I saw that. That doesn’t seem right.”

“That’s the rule.”

My daughter piped up, “Just ask David McCree how hard it was to wrestle a girl?”

“Was she that good?”

“No, just picture tall David, 177 pounds and a short girl, 177 pounds. There was no way he could take hold of her.”

“Did he win?”
 My daughter gave me a strange look, “Do you think David McCree would ever let a girl beat him in wrestling? I don’t think so. He wouldn’t be able to look at his classmates the next day.”

Then she said, “I won’t ever have to worry about Creede wrestling a girl as a heavy weight. There is no girl alive who would ever have her weight of 280 posted up on the board.”

“Well, what about that girl who was a kicker on one of the high school football teams this year?”

“I guess they had to let her play.” My daughter shook her head.

“Do you remember how you wanted to play football in high school. You went to the principal at Sandia High, and ask him if you could play on the boy’s football team. He said no. But if you want to play football, you should formed a girl’s team, and get the other high schools in Albuquerque involved.”

 “Yah, I remember. We formed a girl’s football team that year at Sandia. We got some of the other girls to make up a team from their school.

Then I told her, “I still have the full-page write-up in the Albuquerque Tribune. It had a picture of you on the football field. They had a reporter come to the school and interview you. Do you remember? You were determined to play football. You even went to the coaches and borrowed the boy’s old shoulder pads and uniforms. I thought it took courage for you to stand up and organize a team and get the other schools involved.

“I remember going to Eldorado High School and watching the girls play. You stirred up a lot of buzz. A lot of the people gave me their opinion after reading the newspaper. They thought it was outlandish that a girl or girls should be playing football. In fact, I had several ask me how I could let my daughter play football.

“I told them, it was better for you to be playing football with the girls, than be beat up by the boys.”

 Then I ask my daughter, “In hindsight, why did you do it? Did you want to play football that badly or because they said NO to you?

“Neither. I lost Homecoming Queen, so I wanted to do something. I just remember having my copper formal on the night before at the Homecoming Dance, and I was wearing football shoulder pads the next day on the field.”

“Well, it should be an exciting year with the boys baseball team. Those girls are going to add to the success of the team.” My son-in-law said.

“Well, at least it’s not contact sports,” I piped up.

“The boys could’ve joined the girl’s volleyball team this year, because the school didn’t offer boys volley ball.”

My daughter said, “Have you seen their short-shorts?”

“Yes.” My son-in-law said, “I’m surprised more boys didn’t go out for Girl’s Volley ball, they could’ve, you know.”

So there you go. You’ve been privy to our family conversation.

Final Brushstroke! Know when to take up someone else’s cause. You might be fighting for them, but they just wanted Homecoming Queen. You might not be able to change the rules. You don’t have to play if it goes against your convictions. You might have to take up another sport or form your own team.

Someone needs to put Baby in the corner!

We arrived at our family’s Sunday night dinner to hear, “SHHHH. Wait a minute.” Our daughter’s eyes were glued to the television set, “Wait just a minute, I want to hear Patrick Swayze’s say it one more time, ‘No one’s going to put Baby in the corner.’”

Patrick Swayze appeared on the screen wearing his black leather jacket. He was facing Baby’s father. There was silence, then the music began, I’ve had the time of my life. Then he said it, and took Baby to the dance floor.  We all swooned except our son-in-law who said, “What’s with you girls, men don’t pay attention to those things. I don’t remember hearing those words before.”

Our daughter said, “Daddy does.”

“SHHHHH. I missed it. Back it up, let me hear it again.” I took a seat on the couch and turned to look at our daughter. Her hair was wild with curls. I said, “What happened? You and Baby have the same hairdo.”

“Oh, I got a perm this afternoon.”

“Well, someone needs to put Baby in the corner.” I laughed.

“It’ll just take a little time to tame it.”

“It might take a long time.”

Talk about a man who will never be tamed. Al’s brother, David, was in town the next week. He was wearing his black leather jacket. I said, “Oh, you have a jacket just like Patrick Swayze. Are you mad at me for writing about your black leather and Karen with saggy knees?”

“You know I stay mad at you all the time.” He laughed, and then he said, “I’ve got a story for you.”

“If you tell me, you know I’m going to write about it.”

“I don’t care. I went out to this nice restaurant and bar in Albuquerque. I ordered a glass of wine at the bar, I noticed two girls across the dance floor. They were friends of my ex. I took my glass of wine and walked over to Kellie’s table. I knew her when she was married. I said to her, “Are you still married?”

“Yes.”

“Where’s your wedding ring?”

“It’s around.” She gave me a flirty teasing laugh.

“You better put your ring on, or I’m coming after you.”

She just smiled.

I interrupted David’s indulgence. “You’re a bad boy.”

“Well, I told her she better get that ring on or she was fair game.”

“David, that’s how you ended up single. Your ex was going out clubbing with her friends when you were married. She got involved with a married man and they broke up two marriages.”

“Yah, I know. But, I’m not married, I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“My Sweet Al says these women have more at home than they know what to do with. They’ve got a man who loves them at home and they’re out flirting with men who don’t care nothing about them.”

“He’s probably right. Speaking of ex’s. I was talking to Kellie when I saw my ex-wife over at another table. I walked over to her. She was with some guy. She introduced him as her boyfriend. He was probably fifty but he looked like an old man. He doesn’t look like he’s going to live long.

“I excused myself, took my glass of wine and went back to the bar. Just a few minutes later he got up from the table. His shoulders were rounded, and he was all hunched over looking at the floor. He shuffled across the dance floor to the restroom. I don’t know what she sees in him.”

“He’s probably loaded with money.”

“Probably.”

“What are you going to do about Kellie?”

“I asked her to dance.”

“David, you are a bad boy, someone needs to put you in the corner. As for Kellie, she’s a bad girl, she should be put in the other corner. Kellie will soon be just another ex-wife looking for something she had at home all the time.”

Final Brushstroke! They’re all playing with fire. My Sweet Al isn’t a Patrick Swayze on the dance floor, but he still causes sparks when he shuffles me across the floor. This is one Baby who’s not going to be put in the corner. I know what I’ve got at home.

Sweet Al - My Hopeless Romantic

Yes, I’m married to a Hopeless Romantic. My Sweet Al reminded me that it’s April Fool’s Day and our anniversary of fifty-four years. He is still talking about The Bachelor and Juan Pablo. Eight million people watched Juan Pablo kiss and kiss and kiss, then ditch and ditch and ditch. He cried when they left, he wanted them all.

Several of the girls got the hint, and bailed. We thought they were crazy they gave up the muscle-bound with an accent. Now, we’re all praising them for the wisdom they had to retreat. Even Shawn, an ex-bachelor was baffled and his wife said, “Don’t slap the hand that feeds you.” Even his own parents warned the girls, “He’s difficult, are you willing to love him anyway?”

Juan Pablo came to the show as the nicest guy ever and left as the show’s biggest jerk according to the women and the millions who watched the three-hour-on-going Final Rose Ceremony. The confirmed bachelor is not apologizing and says he’s not the bad guy.

As we watched this Reality Show, our conversation went like this, “What did he say? Go back, play it again, did he really say, I’m glad I didn’t pick her?”

 “Poor Clare.”

“She wouldn’t have been right for Camila, anyway, she’s too stuck on herself. She was catty to the other girls.”

We were all against Clare until the Final Date, and then we all wanted her to win. Win Juan Pablo? No. Tell all and walk away. We could only imagine the horrible thing he said to her.

Then there is poor Nikki, the one who got him. We waited for him to pop the question, “Will you marry me?” He wouldn’t. Chris Harrison nailed him to the wall, “Why won’t you tell her you love her? You know this show is about falling in love and getting married.” He wouldn’t budge. Nikki smiled and defended him.

I said, “She’s in love, she got the rose and it’s okay. Whatever Juan Pablo said seemed to be “okay” with her. It’s was his “okay thing” and “that’s nice” and “I’m just being honest,” that got to me.”

“Okay” would grow very thin. Can you imagine spending the next fifty years hearing him say, “It’s okay.” That guy’s a Casanova. When you listen to the girls, you want to believe that he’s a real cad. Then, when you listen to his side of the story, it makes total sense. He can sell you anything and you want to believe him.”

My Sweet Al said, “A person needs to know they’re loved. It isn’t right he won’t tell her he loves her. Juan Pablo is a game player. He doesn’t listen. He doesn’t think he’s doing anything wrong. In fact he’s convinced everyone he’s right.”

“It’s kind of close to home, don’t you think? You’re brother, David, is a game player. Every woman thinks he loves her, and she’s the only one. He leaves them all crying, too. I could tell them he’s not going to marry them, but they wouldn’t listen either.”

Then my Sweet Al reminded me, “I’ve told you every day of our marriage that I love you and I’ve meant it. It just isn’t right he won’t tell Nikkie he loves her.”

“Yes you have, and no it isn’t right. It’s television.”

The producers of the show said there would be a big surprise. We all thought, including Chris Harrison, that Juan Pablo would get down on one knee and pop the question in front of millions. Juan Pablo said the surprise was that him and Nicki were there together.” Now that he said it that was a big surprise.

My son-in-law said the big surprise was she was pregnant, didn’t you see how he kept looking down at her stomach? My daughter said the surprise was that we wasted three hours waiting for no surprise.

I guess that makes sense. He’s actually playing it real on a television reality show. The world doesn’t want him to be real, they want him to play the part, say I love you and pop the question.

Final Brushstroke!

We’ve all got a bet on how long it’s going to last. Juan Pablo said, he wanted their relationship to be private, and after the show they were out of here. I bet after the check is cashed, he bolts. I hope they don’t break up before this goes to press, but then again, I’ll win. But of course, we won’t know, because they’ve gone private in this public love affair.

As for my Sweet Al he has no accent and probably wouldn’t stand under a waterfall on an exotic island with me, but he’s planning an anniversary lunch out Mill Creek Road to our secret get-away and this is all the reality I will ever need.

Black Leather – Life on the fast track!

If I’m lying, I’m dying. Yes, Al’s brother is pushing eighty and is shopping for black leather. I don’t think he’s looking for handcuffs and a whip to go with it, but you never know about him. He’s driving a Harley these days and he says he can’t drive a Harley without wearing black leather. It’s all about presentation with him!

He called the house. He wanted to tell me about Karen, this knock-down, hit-the-wall, gorgeous woman with this out-of-the-world figure. She’s forty-nine pushing fifty. She’s also pushing his standards, he doesn’t date women over fifty.

This was his third date with her, and it might be her last. She has one flaw. Read on!

He said he was waiting at the detention center to drive Karen home. She had to spend the night in jail for drinking too much wine and having too much fun with him. Her bail was set at $6,000, but he only had to pay $600 to bail her out.

Apparently this is the story. He made plans to take Karen to a wine and brunch at a fancy restaurant. His ex-wife, who calls him all the time, wants to keep track of him and what he’s doing. Personally, I don’t understand this kind of relationship. It’s one of those on the track and off the track.

He told his ex-wife he was dating this woman, and he was taking her to this restaurant. He told her, “Don’t show up. I see you all the time at clubs, I don’t bother you, don’t cause trouble with me and this girl.”

He said he knew his ex-wife would show up. She always did. He called the head chef at the restaurant, “If she shows up sit her in the other room away from him and his date.” This must mean, his ex is off the track at the moment.

So this woman had brunch and too much wine. When they left, he pulled out of the parking lot on his Harley and she followed him in her car. The police waited outside the restaurant and pulled her over. They handcuffed her and took her to jail.

I reminded him of that beautiful blond he dated a couple of years ago. At the time she was also dating a cop. He claims the dirty cop was watching for his Lexus and paid-off another cop to pull him over. Al’s brother ended up in jail, paid a fortune to an attorney and he had to do a hundred hours of community service.

He’s had to breathe into a breathalyzer before he could start his car. It was only removed a few months ago. He said, “That why I couldn’t go back and help her. They’ve red-flagged me.”

I sat and listened to him on the phone and was awed at the trouble this man brings to him self, just to stay young, on the track and in the race.

After the conversation on the phone, I told Al that his brother went to Karen’s house and she was wearing shorts. When he looked at her legs he noticed she had wrinkled legs and saggy knees. He said, “It turned him off. He couldn’t help it.”

I said to Al, “Your brother’s got a big problem.”

Al said, “Well, don’t tell him. He doesn’t need to hear that. Every man needs to have hope. That keeps him going.”

This was all very interesting. Saggy knees could be a deal breaker? This might be her third and last date with Al’s brother.

Then I said, “Doesn’t he know it’s time to get off the track, get out of the way, and let the younger guys take over?”

“He doesn’t know he’s getting old.” Al said quickly reverting to NASCAR. “It’s like all these young guys who are driving today. They are tearing up the track. They’re out running the old guys.”

I said, “The old guys, meaning the thirty and forty year olds?”

“Yes.”

“I know why? It’s all those video games the young ones have been playing. They have quick reflexes. How young are they anyway?”

“Oh, about 20 or 22. Even an eighteen year old is driving 200 miles an hour.”

Then Al continued. “Well, there’s a guy who is the oldest on the track. His name is Morgan Shepherd. He owns his own car, and works on it himself. He pulls it from his hometown to where ever the next race is. He might be in forty-sixth place, and stays at the back. If there is a crash, he inches up to another place.”

“How can he afford to drive in NASCAR? It takes a lot of money. These racing teams have two or three cars, and a lot of people on the team. How does he stay up with the deep pockets and the young drivers?”

“As for money, he probably breaks even. It’s the thrill of racing. In his younger days he tore up the track. The announcers all like him and talk about him all the time.”

This seventy-two year old driver has no sponsors, builds his own car with his own money, pulls it with his own pickup, and drives it himself in the race. This intrigued me. I went to his website.

He’s asking for donations for a set of tires, and seeking sponsors for the 2014 racing year. This driver is putting himself out there every weekend. He’s working really hard to stay on the track.

Then we have Al’s brother. He’s wearing tight black leather pants and a black leather jacket driving a Harley. He sees himself young, also. He bails out the young women, doesn’t mind spending his money on them and waits outside of jail to drive them home. With those wrinkled legs and saggy knees it might slow down his hot pursuit. If she doesn’t work out, he’ll find another race and be back on the track by the weekend.

I guess we are all living in hope and trying to stay on the track. Al’s in his brown leather chair, and watching fast cars. His brother’s wearing black leather looking at fast women, and his brother’s ex is off the track wanting to get back on. Morgan Shepherd loves the thrill of just being on the track and is doing anything to stay on it.

Final Brushstroke! Maybe Al’s right. “Don’t tell him. He doesn’t need to hear that. Every man needs to have hope. That keeps him going.” I guess that’s what we’re all doing. We’re living in hope. The younger generation has caught up with us and passed us by. Some have the good sense to stay off the track, and some of us believe we still have what it takes to stay on it.

If I’m lying, I’m dying. Yes, Al’s brother is pushing eighty and is shopping for black leather. I don’t think he’s looking for handcuffs and a whip to go with it, but you never know about him. He’s driving a Harley these days and he says he can’t drive a Harley without wearing black leather. It’s all about presentation with him!

He called the house. He wanted to tell me about Karen, this knock-down, hit-the-wall, gorgeous woman with this out-of-the-world figure. She’s forty-nine pushing fifty. She’s also pushing his standards, he doesn’t date women over fifty.

This was his third date with her, and it might be her last. She has one flaw. Read on!

He said he was waiting at the detention center to drive Karen home. She had to spend the night in jail for drinking too much wine and having too much fun with him. Her bail was set at $6,000, but he only had to pay $600 to bail her out.

Apparently this is the story. He made plans to take Karen to a wine and brunch at a fancy restaurant. His ex-wife, who calls him all the time, wants to keep track of him and what he’s doing. Personally, I don’t understand this kind of relationship. It’s one of those on the track and off the track.

He told his ex-wife he was dating this woman, and he was taking her to this restaurant. He told her, “Don’t show up. I see you all the time at clubs, I don’t bother you, don’t cause trouble with me and this girl.”

He said he knew his ex-wife would show up. She always did. He called the head chef at the restaurant, “If she shows up sit her in the other room away from him and his date.” This must mean, his ex is off the track at the moment.

So this woman had brunch and too much wine. When they left, he pulled out of the parking lot on his Harley and she followed him in her car. The police waited outside the restaurant and pulled her over. They handcuffed her and took her to jail.

I reminded him of that beautiful blond he dated a couple of years ago. At the time she was also dating a cop. He claims the dirty cop was watching for his Lexus and paid-off another cop to pull him over. Al’s brother ended up in jail, paid a fortune to an attorney and he had to do a hundred hours of community service.

He’s had to breathe into a breathalyzer before he could start his car. It was only removed a few months ago. He said, “That why I couldn’t go back and help her. They’ve red-flagged me.”

I sat and listened to him on the phone and was awed at the trouble this man brings to him self, just to stay young, on the track and in the race.

After the conversation on the phone, I told Al that his brother went to Karen’s house and she was wearing shorts. When he looked at her legs he noticed she had wrinkled legs and saggy knees. He said, “It turned him off. He couldn’t help it.”

I said to Al, “Your brother’s got a big problem.”

Al said, “Well, don’t tell him. He doesn’t need to hear that. Every man needs to have hope. That keeps him going.”

This was all very interesting. Saggy knees could be a deal breaker? This might be her third and last date with Al’s brother.

Then I said, “Doesn’t he know it’s time to get off the track, get out of the way, and let the younger guys take over?”

“He doesn’t know he’s getting old.” Al said quickly reverting to NASCAR. “It’s like all these young guys who are driving today. They are tearing up the track. They’re out running the old guys.”

I said, “The old guys, meaning the thirty and forty year olds?”

“Yes.”

“I know why? It’s all those video games the young ones have been playing. They have quick reflexes. How young are they anyway?”

“Oh, about 20 or 22. Even an eighteen year old is driving 200 miles an hour.”

Then Al continued. “Well, there’s a guy who is the oldest on the track. His name is Morgan Shepherd. He owns his own car, and works on it himself. He pulls it from his hometown to where ever the next race is. He might be in forty-sixth place, and stays at the back. If there is a crash, he inches up to another place.”

“How can he afford to drive in NASCAR? It takes a lot of money. These racing teams have two or three cars, and a lot of people on the team. How does he stay up with the deep pockets and the young drivers?”

“As for money, he probably breaks even. It’s the thrill of racing. In his younger days he tore up the track. The announcers all like him and talk about him all the time.”

This seventy-two year old driver has no sponsors, builds his own car with his own money, pulls it with his own pickup, and drives it himself in the race. This intrigued me. I went to his website.

He’s asking for donations for a set of tires, and seeking sponsors for the 2014 racing year. This driver is putting himself out there every weekend. He’s working really hard to stay on the track.

Then we have Al’s brother. He’s wearing tight black leather pants and a black leather jacket driving a Harley. He sees himself young, also. He bails out the young women, doesn’t mind spending his money on them and waits outside of jail to drive them home. With those wrinkled legs and saggy knees it might slow down his hot pursuit. If she doesn’t work out, he’ll find another race and be back on the track by the weekend.

I guess we are all living in hope and trying to stay on the track. Al’s in his brown leather chair, and watching fast cars. His brother’s wearing black leather looking at fast women, and his brother’s ex is off the track wanting to get back on. Morgan Shepherd loves the thrill of just being on the track and is doing anything to stay on it.

Final Brushstroke! Maybe Al’s right. “Don’t tell him. He doesn’t need to hear that. Every man needs to have hope. That keeps him going.” I guess that’s what we’re all doing. We’re living in hope. The younger generation has caught up with us and passed us by. Some have the good sense to stay off the track, and some of us believe we still have what it takes to stay on it.