Common Ground

It was a whirlwind weekend for tosabarbell. Bigg flew in late in the afternoon on Friday from his first new job work trip. HIS whirlwind week in Sweden and Finland was very successful from a prize point of view (the work stuff was fine too;) The variety pack of Akvavit needed to be addressed and we had quite the tasting session Friday night. Some was fruity, some bold, some had hints of elderberries and anise seed. It was all very tasty but we quickly learned that not ALL Akvavit was smooth as glass. Uff Da!

 

Saturday morning we watched Oz’s football team go 0-2 and was entertained, as always, by sports moms and dads who seem to equate 7th grade football to a State high school championship. Simmer down folks, they’ll get it.  When the new stadium was built, Matt’s family made a donation and were awarded people’s butts right near the 50 yard line.  Heh.

PPwanatseat

 

Then off to Chicago and The Purple Pig. Matt found the Purple Pig last year when we were planning on staying in town prior to the Bears/Vikes game. A sick puppy at home altered our plans and we put it off. So this year, expectations and excitement were high. We put our name on the two hour wait list and meandered across the street for a pre-pig snack. We found a very nice jazz club and grill and split a lamb sammich with some amazing guacamole and corn dip. Couple that with great wine and a dark and stormy for the big guy and our somewhat full tummies were prepared for the remaining hour’s wait.

Our first hint that this was going to be a fun foodie night was our waiter. 


PPwaiter

 

His mustache made him seem about six feet tall and 240 pounds. In reality, he was probably about 5’8″ and weighed in 155# soaking wet. But I shit you not, that mustache added stature to his frame and his knowledge of the quirky menu and food in general helped make the Pig a wonderful experience. (By the way, if you know how to use the Iphone camera with the flash without getting this white shadow, let me know.) 

We took our time to enjoy various dishes but by far, my favorite was the Roasted Bone Marrow with herbs. By god that was good. Decorum flew straight out the window while I gnawed at the bones right at the table!

PPiatethebones

 

Another fun dish was the Pig’s ear with a type of kale and pickled cherry pepper relish and an over easy egg on top that gave gooey goodness when broken. It was awesome.

PPpigsear

 

Overall it was a wonderful experience and we’re already forming our attack plan for our next return. If you have a chance to check it out, do it. The only thing we would have done differently is  grab a few road trip BK burgers to pre-game so we didn’t arrive hungry. We know better…never let your Strongman arrive hungry to a restaurant. Hungry to Hangry in 3…2…1!

As always, the Vikes/Bears game was a blast, even in the rain. Even with a comeback win by the Bears in the final moments of the game. Oh well. I don’t let it get to me…cuz I’m not playing. See? It was a great game and the shots that get passed back and forth when the Bears score actually makes the whole day a win/win for me. Our Dollar Tree, clear, ‘One size fits most’ jackets were a total success and even worked for Matt…

PPcommonground

 

…and the best part of the day? When we were leaving the stadium we had to took a short walk through the tunnel when the loud, enthusiastic chant of “Green Bay Sucks!” broke out for about a minute.

Ahhhhhh…common ground. See? We CAN all get along. 

When I played pro football, I never set out to hurt anyone deliberately – unless it was, you know, important, like a league game or something.

Dick Butkus

Training Log

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Monday Bacon: Declaration of Independence

I vividly remember the first time I handed off the toddler Oz man to the church nursery worker when he was old enough to know Ma wouldn’t be there.  I had his hand in mine and as we started walking in the door, he stopped, took his hand out of mine, waved and took off at full sprint. What, wait! As much as I didn’t want any tears, maybe a pensive look back or something to let me know he’s just a little bit concerned I’m no longer there? Nope. Nada. Oz pretty much declared that day that he’s an independent man of two and Ma needs to back off.

Well all right then.  The same process was repeated any time I dropped him off whether it be at Grandma’s, pre-school, Kindergarten, baseball, etc. In fact, the looks he would give crying kids at pre-school was so very WTF! that I still kick myself I didn’t get a picture. On the days where I dropped him off at school, it was declared that I was not allowed to sit there and watch him walk into the school. I’m fine Ma, just go. That one wasn’t tough, I still don’t understand the parents who back up the drop off line waiting to see make sure their precious cargo can handle the walk from the car to the door with at least three teachers helping the process. Really, how stupid are your kids that they can’t trek the 50 feet to the door without you watching?

All three of my kids have enjoyed early independence, single parenting does that sometimes. Or maybe just the fact that I still remember the greatest summers of my life (up until the last two years) when I left the house or cabin shortly after breakfast, popped in at lunchtime if someone else’s Ma didn’t feed me and come back for dinner before heading back out for our nightly neighborhood Kick The Can games. Can you even imagine kids playing Kick the Can now? Having giggling kids I don’t even know hiding in our bushes and running around the neighborhood screaming? Cops being called in 3…2…1…Cops answering with guns drawn in 2…1… I’m sad my kids don’t get that fun.

I thought of this after reading a point on article on the fact that really, Miley Cyrus isn’t ruining the childhoods of our little ones, we are. Well, you over protective parents are actually. The fear of modern day mommies baffles me. The If I don’t give in to every whim, my child will feel unloved and I won’t EVER EVER EVER let that happen to MY baby. Uhhhh, ok Mommy but  your baby is 30 and still living in your basement without a job or a car and you still drive them to the mall unless they just take YOUR car and return it on E. You know how old I was the last time I returned my dad’s car on E? 16, he took “my” key and said ‘you’re done until you understand that my getting to work in the morning takes precedent over you getting over to Sheila’s. Don’t ever leave my car empty again.’ I rode my bike for the next week and learned a valuable lesson that the gas tank better read what it did when I jumped into the car.

My bike was my window to the world from the time I was around 7 or 8. We would ride up to Rog’n’Jims for Bub’s Daddy watermelon gum which was actually pretty dangerous because we had to bypass the killer security dogs at the gas station next door AND the mean Pohl brothers who would throw rocks at us if they were outside when we whizzed by. But we made it.  And so will your little one. Just give them a chance to figure shit out. If you don’t, they’ll be gifted with fear and low expectations that will decrease their chance of being ‘the best they can be.’

My favorite point of the article is to not open stuff for little kids. Help them figure it out? Yes. But do it for them? No. It’s subtle, but important. Good lord, make them figure shit out. They make a mess? They clean it up and if a dinner table looks like a tornado hit it after your school age children eat? Teach them some manners for gawd’s sake.

I still try to jack up Oz now and then, asking if he wants me to walk him to the ball field on his first football game; screaming out the window “Make good choices!!” really ANY time friends of his are within ear shot; ya know, perks of parenting that drive them nuts. But the dude declared his independence over 11 years ago and I respect that. My 20 year old’s are working their hind ends off trying to be independent young adults and I couldn’t be more proud of both of them. I know that when they DO ask for help, they’ve exhausted all options to do it on their own. I’m a proud Ma. Imperfect whose made so many mistakes, but proud.

Always obey your parents-when they are present.

Mark Twain

Training Log

oz not hesitating before stepping into new things. nursery, school, etc.

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Friday Jams

Bigg and I had an entertaining post-Games road trip conversation on whether or not we would see another Walter Payton come along. See, growing up in Purple and Gold country, we still knew to be amazed by Sweetness and his abilities. Grandpa was a die hard Bears fan, growing up in Chicago, and would love it every time #34 was handed the ball. It was ballet; poetry; a symphony, everything powerful and beautiful wrapped up in 5’10” of speed and strength. I just don’t know. Numbers don’t always speak to the total package of an athlete.

But I’m still a Vikes girl and our Adrian Peterson has done pretty well for himself. He’s matured through the years, seems to have fixed that fumble when you shouldn’t issue…

…and rehabbed a knee surgery to come back stronger and better than ever. His vision is magical. He seems to know when and where a hole will appear about an hour before the ball is snapped and when he’s off, see ya! Is he the next Walter Payton? Dunno. I’m pretty partial to both of them and feel secure preserving Payton’s talents in my heart as the best. Time will tell.

The fun part is that on Sunday, Peterson and my Vikes will be at Soldier Field taking on the Bears and we’ll be there! A stop Saturday night to the Purple Pig for some cheese, swine, and wine…

…and off to the game Sunday. I’m ready. I’ve got my purple nails,  purple flower for my hair, and of course my #69 Jared Allen jersey. Sitting in the section where Bear’s season ticket holders have sat for decades in my purple always gets some feedback. Sitting with a 6’4, 360# dude keeps the feedback respectful. Heh. In fact, last year the locals kicked out an obnoxious Bears fan. Class. Srsly.

And you know this post wouldn’t be complete without this…

Enjoy your weekend.

I want to be remembered like Pete Rose. ‘Charlie Hustle.’ I want people to say, wherever he was, he was always giving it his all.

Walter Payton

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Classy

I had a very brief, but insightful, little e-chat with my pal Mona the other day about my placing in the Wisconsin Scottish games. Well, I placed 8th…cuz it was an open class, I was the only girl, and I tell  ya what, I was ok with that $25 check. It was spent immediately in the beer tent but such is life. Heh. While we were chatting, it occurred to me that I’ve only thrown in one Highland Games with an actual ladies Masters class. Against HER, at Enumclaw. And as I’ve mentioned before, I stepped up my game as much as possible there.

It got me thinking, when I throw in an open field be it a women’s open or just plain ‘ole open like my local Games are done, do I psych myself up as much as I should (or could) compared to when I know I have a chance to place well in the group? And if the answer is no, am I just being realistic or am I a weak competitor? Huh.

I don’t like to think of myself as a weak competitor. I try to always improve my numbers at let the chips fall where they may as to the final results. After all, I have no control over how someone else throws, just me. However, when I show up and three of my competitors are in the top 10 on NASGA and up to 20 years younger than me? Uff Da! I’ve knocked myself off the podium just by showing up. Heh. Now in no way am I complaining about the value of competing with these amazing ladies. I’m better because of it.  But is there a way to both learn from the best AND compete against others in my *cough*cough* age bracket where having a chance to place well spurs the competition spirit inside of me for maybe a few more inches on each throw?

I don’t know. But maybe next season is where I find out. One hurdle is that so many of our Midwest games run one women’s class due to the lack of throwers. Huh. Well, maybe we need to get more women involved. That needs some thought on how to do that.  After all, I don’t want my own class all by myself, I want a great class full of great throwers that I compete against or what’s the point?  So that aspect needs some brainstorming and teamwork from some of the other Midwest women. Not insurmountable but a nice little off-season challenge.

Another option is to find a few Games with big enough numbers in the women’s groups that they split out a Master’s group.  I have my eye on a few out west next year, all I need to do is keep my Bigg man on the road to get those frequent flier miles and hotel points and it’s a go. Heeeheee.   In all seriousness, we’ve discussed it and having Matt’s support in all this is just so huge. I’m also hoping/expecting to continue to meet great folks along the way that may have some ideas for other games within driving distance that our doable for me.

At the end of the day, I own my own numbers and know the placings fall where they may. I’m thankful for every single Games I’ve thrown in this year no matter who I shared the field with. But there may be ways to improve my overall experience next year and hopefully contribute in my small way to a tough American women’s masters class. Word.

Setting a goal is not the main thing. It is deciding on how you will go about achieving it and staying with the plan.

Tom Landry

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