Friday Night Lights

I love the sense of community that oozes out of small Texas towns on a Friday night.  My dad, known to Owen as Coach for good reason, coached high school football in my hometown for nearly two decades. As an elementary schooler, I remember wearing my Head Coach's Kid  t-shirt around the stadium on game night and feeling like I ruled the world.  I could not have been any more proud to be my dad's daughter if he had been president of the whole United States.  When I was a teenager, I sat in the stands with the dance line and cheered on my dad and his team.  I watched every play, annoyed by the girls around me who didn't even know if we were on offense or defense.  

Strange fact:  He once had to coach a game in a bullet proof vest because we were getting death threat calls at our house.  It even earned him a blurb on the national news and brought the FBI to our living room.  Texans take their football seriously.

It worked out perfectly this past weekend that we were able to go to a Crosby Cougar game on my dad's 60th birthday.  He's a Kindergarten principal now and says 300 hugs a day is just as much fun as two-a-days.  They have a group of kids called Bleacher Creatures who run out on the field ahead of the team as the marching band blares and pounds out the school fight song, and my dad arranged for Owen to run with them.  He was a little overwhelmed by the whole spectacle, but it felt great to see him be a part of something that was such a big part of my childhood.

Slow going

The tropical storm knocked out our power on Monday, and we've been running on generator ever since.  I'm having trouble getting a good (ie. fast) internet connection today, so my photos won't upload.  One probably has nothing to do with the other, but my simple mind detects a conspiracy.

Back as soon as I can with a rundown of our Labor Day weekend trip to Texas!

Day One: Preschool

I just got back from dropping Owen off for his first day of 3yo preschool.  It was so quiet in the car on the way home.  This was his first year to use the carpool line, and he executed his role like a pro, hopping out of his car seat, giving me a hug and kiss, and heading on his way.  He grabbed his teacher Mrs. Dobbs' hand, and she led him toward the building.  Just before he went inside, he gave me the gift of a backward glance over his shoulder.  He didn't seem scared, just a little bewildered.  

My eyes may have welled up a little.

He won't be the only Owen in his class this year.  There's an Owen K. too, so I had to write Owen S. on all his things.  The school provides the red bags, and Owen is pretty proud of it because he saw all the big kids carrying them around last year.

The outtakes: 

The mess on the front porch is from the remnants of Tropical Storm Lee.  Owen and I flew in from Texas just as he was arriving in Birmingham, and it made for a very bumpy end of flight.  I think it was the first time I ever had to look for the barf bag on a plane to make sure it was handy.  Not a good feeling.  Our luggage got rained on so hard when they took it off the plane that a lot of our stuff inside got wet.  Then we got home to discover rain coming in through the back of one of our kitchen cabinets and under our front door.

But here's the upside.  As soon as I post this, I'm going to go start cleaning everything up, and I'll be so busy that it'll be 1 o'clock before I know it.  And then I can go get Owen.

Mischief

Like anyone with healthy technology boundaries, I enjoy snuggling in bed each night with my netbook computer.  I like to pick a blogger and then stalk her through all 3 or 4 years of her posts over the course of several weeks.  I can usually make it through 2 or 3 months a night before I get sleepy.  My current stalk is an artist who just bought and began refurbishing a rural New York farm.

Anyways... back to the main point of this post.

When I went to get the netbook out of my bedside table last night, it wasn't there.  My first thought was that Scott had borrowed it, but he declined responsibility.  My second thought, foolishly, was that someone had broken into our house and stolen this singular item.

Then I noticed a familiar black cord plugged into the wall and followed it:

Now who could've done that?

Quick hello.

Just dropping in quickly to say hey today.  I'm teaching ACT classes tonight, and I have orientation for Owen's preschool.  Which means this is due, and all I have written is a rough outline.  I have an hour to plan my ACT lessons, finish the letter and fix my hair.

I know.

I should have started on my hair waaaay sooner.

Monday Moon

How's that view on a Monday morning?  I super sized it for ya.

Not long after we got home from Italy, Owen asked if Birmingham had any towers we could climb, which was pretty much in line with my revelation about needing to explore our own town using the same enthusiasm with which we'd explored Tuscany.  Now two months later I've finally gotten around to taking Owen to Vulcan Park.  I hadn't been there in over 15 years, and we lived almost right under his tight, flexed buns for 10 of them.  Here's a little history on Vulcan if you're not a local.

Owen climbed all 159 steps by himself, which was a relief since we didn't have Scott with us, and I didn't know if I could carry him.

A fun (and exaggerated) memory of how Scott felt after carrying Owen up the 505 steps to the top of Torre del Mangia in Siena.

So what does one do when visiting a tower?

A lot of looking up,

and a lot of looking down.

And we'll finish up with one artsy flartsy photo and one of Owen channeling an Abercrombie model.

Our plans for the rest of today are to grocery shop, make dinner for friends who have a new baby, and finish up some projects I started yesterday.  I had one of those (rare) days where I was a dervish of productivity and knocked out a bunch of need-to-do's that have been bugging me for a long time.  The downside of all that whirling?  Carelessness.  I'm sporting a slice on my finger from a serrated knife, and our sweet little breakfast table suffered an even worse wound when I got Goof-off all over it.  A grapefruit-sized section of its finish is now missing.  Newest item on my to-do list:  sand and refinish breakfast table.

Light Saber

Party 'til you drop

This is how I found Owen when I went to wake him from his nap today.  The light was on, and he'd 'burrito'ed himself in covers at the foot of the bed.

14.

Happy Anniversary Scottie!  Thank you for being such a good man- an involved father, hard worker, and an understanding and caring spouse.  Most of all, thanks for never letting me outweigh you; it was close in that photo up there!

Two fun scenes I came across when going through our wedding album:  Drew, who was Scott's 13-year-old best man, fell off the stage and ripped the pants of his tuxedo.  And at the reception, Scott backed into me and I poured red punch (it was a Baptist wedding, folks) all over the front of my gown.  Check out that serious look on my mom's face!

Owen's Weekend Photojournal

Owen and Scott had some father-son time Saturday morning, and I sent O off with our old point-and-shoot camera so I could see what fun they had.  With the exception of photos 2,6, and 8, Owen took these shots.

First stop:  Krispy Kreme

In the car on the way to Lowe's to buy a pirate ship kit.  

Can you tell he got donut icing on the lens?  

And that's the nether-end of a T-Rex.

Back home in the basement putting the pirate ship together.

So where was I while they were out on their adventure?

Still working on the guest room.  The final wall had original 60s grasscloth pasted onto bare sheetrock.  If I were the architect of Hell, I would put walls exactly like this one there.  I would crush souls by making them prep it over and over with no hope of actually getting to the painting phase.  And just to show how demented I really am, I'd have this song playing on loop in the background.  

Oh, and lots of packing peanuts with fans blowing the little pieces of polystyrene all over the place so they can never quite get them all picked up.

No lake of fire necessary.

Craft time

We broke into the craft box this afternoon for some ideas and found a box 

of Model Magic.  I couldn't get him to smile at the camera.  Owen is pretty serious 

about his art.

Owen's source of inspiration:  the dog on the front of the box.

And Owen's final product.  When pressed, he titled the piece Baby Clifford Owens E-M-S-Y-X

(We've been working on the alphabet a lot lately.)

Guest Room: Progress shot

No pictures of Owen today.  I just thought I'd show you guys where I've been spending a lot of time lately.  (And maybe tempt some of you to come stay for a visit!)

So far I've painted an accent wall, made bedside tables & two pieces of artwork, gussied up the ceiling fan blades, and bought a drafting table to start setting up an art workspace in one corner.  I've still got to find a rug, finish removing wallpaper from the long wall (outside the shot to the left) and work on some rocking chairs for the balcony.

I'll be back with the final 'after' shots in no time at all.

...say late 2012.

Owen update

Owen's first LEGO creation- a house with a garden and a radio tower.  EVERYTHING he builds has a radio tower.

A few recent developments:

1)  Owen's bowl hair-do is gone.  He's got naptime bed head in that first photo, but you can still sorta tell.

2)  We've started buying him Size 5 clothes.  He's tall enough now to touch the bottom in the shallow end of the 'big kid' pool.

3)  We got him his first set of LEGOs.  He's under a probationary period until he can get more though.  We want to make sure he can handle keeping up with all the little pieces.  Two days in and he's doing well!

Freckles

The letter

I've got writer's block.  Owen starts preschool in a few weeks, and I'm supposed to write a letter to his teacher describing him.  That's tough.  I don't want to gush and oversell him, but I don't want to pick him apart either.  And who knows what part of his current personality is his true nature and what part is average preschooler-ness.  Most adjectives I come up with have the feel of pigeonholing.  I hated being called shy when I was in school.  If you pull my old yearbooks out, here's what you'll find for 95% of the written entries:

Hey Shelley,

Great being in Mrs. So-and-so's class with you.  You're sooooo sweet and quiet.  Don't ever change.  Have a great summer!

I just wanted to grab the book back from them and pound them over the head with it.  Yeah okay sucker, how sweet am I now?

I may have had some repressed anger issues.

But back to Owen.  

Any advice on how to approach this assignment?  

Owen wuz here

These benders are awesome.

There's an age 8 and up requirement on them, but I've made Owen sign a contract promising not to cut the dinosaur up with wire snippers and swallow all the magnets.  

Even if he's really really hungry.