General update

Time is flying... I have been busy thorougly enjoying basketball games here, there and everywhere. The grand finale was a tournament in Southern California. Bren and I took a road trip, traveled via the coast, and had a blast.

We started by driving to Cambria, to the home of a long-time friend of mine. She was my youth group leader back in Los Altos, the one who loved and comforted me, the one who made me laugh during the rough patches of high school. We have stayed in touch, through much joy and sorrow. I loved seeing her again.

We also spent an evening with her daughter-in-law and four granddaughters. Delicious food, a home that radiates peace and purpose and beauty, a quiet hour by the fire trying to catch up on the last ten years...it was a slice of heaven. Bren was introduced to Phase 10 by the girls, and we must go get a pack of those cards soon. He is hooked.

We then made our way to San Luis Obispo, a quaint little town where we had lunch at The Kreuzberg*CA Cafe. You know you are in a college town when your lunch options include the Thomas Mann, Jane Austen or Aristotle sandwiches. We had a long-overdue visit with a young woman whose family we have known since before we got married. Done with college, getting married in July, learning and growing and radiating happiness, she was terrific company. It was a very quick hour but a highlight of the trip.

We headed south down the coast, waving to Gus and Shawn and Jules as we moved through Santa Barbara.  We passed green hills and crashing waves and felt the cool ocean breezes; I had that gut-wrenching feeling I had so many years ago when we decided to move from the coast and live in a more affordable part of California.  I love where I live (I DO!  I DO!)  Oh, but those ocean breezes get me every time (insert Pablo Cruise's Ocean Breeze for the full effect.)

We made our way down the Ventura Freeway, and just in the nick of time we turned east with the rest of the traffic and found ourselves stopped in a concrete jungle.  The L.A. traffic helped me remember(once agan) the empty lanes of Highway 50 near home and how moving to our little hill was  a brilliant idea. 

Naturally, I did spend some time dictating texts for Brennan to send to John.  It went something like this:

Di:  Ventura Highway...
John: in the sunshine...
Di:  Where the days are longer
John: the nights are stronger...

etc. etc.

(America, Ventura Highway, for those who don't know.)

If only I had known last Wednesday what I know now (after googling the lyrics): 

'Cause the free wind is blowin' through your hair

And the days surround your daylight there

Seasons crying no despair

Alligator lizards in the air, in the air

Alligator lizards?  REALLY?  I triple checked, and it's true.  Turns out John knew...but he thought it was "Seasons crying notice there..."

We do love lyrics.  Sorry.

Marriage Handy Hint: the silliness factor can be greatly aided by a common jukebox .

And speaking of texting with John:  he and Claire had a very special trip of their own.  They were in Philadelphia, Gettysburg, and Washington, D.C. for six days.  After eighteen trips with his school's eighth graders, John was finally able to bring one of his own children with him.  They had a blast.  Fortunately for us, their connecting flight home was in San Diego, and they could leave their tour group and head  north to meet us in Riverside.  It was a weekend of basketball that John would have hated to miss.

 
The Norcal Bears played really well.  They had four games, won them all, and they came home with the championship for their age group!  They had to beat two fantastic teams that were undefeated to get there, and they did it!  Both games had opponents that Brennan knew through speech and debate, so there was added excitement for him.  His friends were fantastic players, and it was great to see the battle go strong for all four quarters.  Both games were nail biters, especially the final game; they won the championship game in the last few seconds...by one point!  Our hearts were pounding for hours afterwards.

Bren was honored with the MVP award.  He played so well...we are really proud of him.

After our last game, we sneaked in a quick visit with more friends. another couple who spent time with me as a single woman.  Dear people, one now experiencing early dimentia.  Not an easy calling, but he is deeply loved by a great wife, and he will be taken care of through it all.  God calls us to dark paths sometimes, and I was glad to have a few minutes of heart-to-heart with his wife. 

We had one last stop to see good friends in L.A.  Sipping coffee, feeling the warmth of the morning sunshine, sharing the realities of life...it was a great last stop before we made the long haul home.

By the time we pulled in the driveway, our basketball player had a 103 degree fever, and our car had been the perfect petri dish for those germs to multiply and spread.  We're still coughing, still aching, still exhausted and we have been home for a week.  It's a good thing John had an extra week off this year.  Holy Week has been spent horizontal, hoping for relief and finding it in restless sleep.  I think the worst is over, and I am grateful.

All the coughing and sleeping doesn't diminish the joy of a road trip.  Time alone with my youngest, basketball wins and awards, good friends, lovely destinations, no mishaps.  It was a great week.

It was a great season

Rex's basketball season is now over, thanks to a brutal double-overtime loss.

Drat! 

FYI:  this is the required response.  

I happen to think 2nd place is pretty great, but the company line is "Drat!"

The Rex Man

I love watching Rex play basketball.

 

He jumps high.  He plays hard.  He is terrific.

Two games = Two wins

Love you, #14!!

Glory days

March Madness Update:

Guess who won the bracket here at Competition Central?

ME!!!!

It was one of those years when no one really cleaned up...by the end of the first round, all our brackets were a mess; in fact, one young man's ballot was literally torn to pieces, such was the sorrow and anguish. But someone had to win, and it was ME! I love winning.

No prize has been declared yet, but I'll think of something if they don't.

March madness is serious business around here

We hang our brackets on the same cord where we hang the Christmas stockings...if that gives you a clue as to how much we love March Madness in our home. Brackets are serious business, and we boldly gloat over wins and cry in agony over losses.

The first time I even heard about this March Madness NCAA tournament thingy was in 1987. We'd been married for a year, and suddenly John's granny was very, very ill. We raced to her house in Modesto and I sat by her bedside all night. I would begin to nod off to sleep, but then suddenly she would take a really, really long time between breaths; I tell you, that "between breaths" silence woke me up faster than a brass band would have. In the midst of the granny drama, I noticed that "the game" John's dad was watching was "still on." ESPN may have begun broadcasting in 1979, but I was still quite naive about the reality of twenty-four hour sports programming. Until I started waking up enough to see that the teams were changing uniforms, it didn't occur to me that this was a tournament. Like I said, I was naive.

Then there were two years in a row (maybe 1993 and 1994?) when my husband truly and honestly got the flu during the first two days of the NCAA tournament. He was able to moan on the couch while the games just kept coming hand-over-fist. It was a blissful way to pass the time for a sick guy, and in those days I got hooked.

Now I have three boys who love basketball, and two daughters who are willing to play along. Some of the family are serious students of the players, coaches and teams. Some of us are stuck in the, "Well, the Bullers live in Spokane, so let's go with Gonzaga" methodology. And some of us are just plain annoyingly lucky. Why does the daughter who couldn't care less always have the best bracket? Argh. I am still hopeful, though; if Kentucky loses soon, I could still beat her. And that would be sweet.

For the record: if I lived a different life, one that involved sending the children off to school each day, I would glue my eyes to my mother's television and watch every bounce, swish, and block. In my much more responsible life, I wait until my youngest has done at least two hours of work and then watch with him. When that is not possible, I hit refresh every fifteen seconds on my computer and give thanks for the wonder that is ESPN online.

Thursday was filled with disappointment, but Friday was sweet revenge. I have NEVER won the family bracket game, but hope springs eternal with March Madness. Maybe this year. Maybe.

Back to refreshing ESPN.

It was all about twenty-three

It's a new season of hoops with a new number: *23*
Saturday was the first tournament for the Nor-Cal Thunder!

Number 23 played beautifully; his mother is still working on being quieter in the bleachers.




But Sunday was a day for a 23 of a totally different sort:

Twenty-three years of marriage.
WOW.

So we sneaked away. To coffee houses and bookstores down Highway 49, the road through the Gold Country. We enjoyed quiet companionship, not blabbing away non-stop as we sometimes do. We read, we napped, we ate a late lunch, we drove with the air conditioning blasting on our hot faces.

The music, the books, the coffee, the winding golden roads of our beautiful state, this one day was a slice of the sweet, challenging, maturing, meaningful life we have lived for the last twenty-three years.

Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, the last of life, for which the first was made. Our times are in his hand who saith, 'A whole I planned, youth shows but half; Trust God: See all, nor be afraid!
~ Robert Browning _

Reflections of a basketball mom

Between practices three to four days a week, and games twice a week, we've been doing the basketball life around here since November. We've been so happy with the coaching our two sons have received; these men are kind, considerate, competitive gentlemen. They are fine role models for boys, and we cannot believe what an unexpected blessing they are to our family. It's been fun to meet new boys and their families; we've lived here for almost twenty-one years, but we continue to meet interesting and pleasant folks from pockets here and there across our county.

It's not all been a picnic, though. We've watched the behavior of coaches and players and fans that has been so offensive, and it has been hard for me to shake it off. My husband, player of baseball from Little League through freshman year at University of Oregon, and coach and referee of a bazillion games since then, tells me I need to let.it.go. My sons look at each other and share that, "Mom is making tooooo big a deal here" look. But it DOES bother me, and it is SO wrong. I have no objection to enthusiastic fan participation; I am, after all, the mother whose son has asked her to cheer just a little bit quieter. I try, but I am still pretty loud. So it is not the enthusiastic yelling I am concerned about. It is the swearing at the refs. By parents. At a game played by third and fourth graders. THIRD AND FOURTH GRADERS. Good grief. And then there was the subtle kick of a nine-year-old after the game. Oh, and the bump and the swearing as the players went through the "high five, nice game" line at the Christian high school game. And it was certainly the flipping of a finger gesture to a nine-year-old after a game. By a third or fourth grader.

I know it is not easy to lose by big numbers. We've been on that side of the court at some high school games this year. No one likes to lose. But in a game someone has to lose each and every time. And certainly we want our children to learn to lose with graciousness. Right? RIGHT?

And it is true that refs don't catch each and every foul. The lack of foul calling is especially purposeful in the younger games; the clock does not stop unless there is a free throw opportunity. If the refs called every foul, we would have a game played on the sidelines; as soon as the ball hit the court they would be back on the side again. Plus, big surprise: refs are human; they make mistakes. We can only hope that the mistakes are evenly dispersed between the teams. But any team worthy of playing the game has to deal with human refs. Quit fussing. Quit complaining. Play the game.

Based on the enjoyment the boys have of the game, their skill and the commitment they have shown, I will be on many a bleacher in the years to come. I need to find a way to conquer my intense dislike of the response others have. We have not seen the last example of ridiculous adult and child behavior. We have not heard our last swear word spoken loudly and rudely. We will win games and lose games, and the refs will bravely do their duties, for good or for ill. It will be a good, hard exercise for all of us.

As Mr. Darcy says, "I will conquer this!"

Life in pictures (and words)

The rains have stopped for now, and the squirrels have been out in force, gathering acorns while they may. And we've had plenty of "rainbow weather" days, bringing shadow and light and color to the hills.

Another game, another win. The most exciting thing is that it was a team win. Everyone got a rebound, all but one teammate scored.

#3's stats: 13 points, 10 rebounds, 4 steals, 3 assists, 1 block.

Unfortunately, Saturday was a day I needed to be in two places at once. We quickly made our way up the hill from a harp lesson, checking in with the peanut gallery for updates. We parked and RAN to the gym .... and the buzzer went off right before we got in the door. We made in time to see the high fives and to hug a sweaty boy. We had to settle for the blow-by-blow, color commentary details, and it made us all the more excited for next Saturday. Go Heroes!!!

And most importantly: order has been restored to our universe, the crack in our fragile eco-system has been repaired. After weeks, eternal weeks, of trying to make a defective espresso machine work, we gave up and ordered a new one. This is our only coffee maker, our fountain of dark roast morning joy, our source of zip for the swing shift of life. It was a relief to smell the drips filling the carafe, to hear the whoosh of the steamer creating stiff foam, to take that first, smooth sip. Aaaahhhhh....we are complete once again.

Number Fifteen

A young man's dream: to play on a basketball team. But what options are there for a homeschool high schooler? We knew of none until last spring when all our guys played in a three-on-three tournament to raise funds for our local Adventist school. Suddenly, there was a glimmer of hope. Hope became reality last month when our oldest son made the varsity team.

Last night was the first game. They WON! Number fifteen scored five, wowed the crowd with his intensity, and shut down the three point threat on the other team. For the mom and dad, it was a joy. For the son, it was a dream come true.

Next game: tonight.

GO EAGLES!

March Madness begins at home

It's been a big year for basketball around here. We just finished my youngest son's season, but I know I've fallen off the "brag until your fingers fall off" wagon of reporting on each game. My immense admiration got a little embarrassing, and how many times could I type, "He was amazing. I am so proud!"?

A quick summary: He continued to put it all on the floor every game, including a three-pointer to tie a game, blocks, steals, double-digit points, free throws, and all-round "Give me 120%" kind of play. He had delightful teammates who are now friends, and a coach who valued teamwork and kindness and hustle above winning at all cost. As a once-reluctant sports mom, I cannot wait for another basketball season.



My husband also spent time with the boys replacing our backyard backboard. They seemed to have fun designing, painting and now playing on the new board.

Then, naturally, I found chocolate basketballs for some treats, as the NCAA extravaganza continued. My bracket was demolished with Tennessee's loss this weekend, but it appears that we have a Bracket Shark in our midst. My non-non-non-sports-fan daughter looks to be the bracket winner. She's the true Cinderella story of this year's March Madness. Unless UCLA can hold on and get to the big game; then, maybe, I can win. Doubtful, but hope springs eternal.

There's no place like home for March Madness.