EARWIG IN MY LUNCH BAG
EARWIG IN MY LUNCH BAG
My forehead is pockmarked from the shingles blisters I had six weeks ago. The indentations feel strange, and I find myself subconsciously rubbing them. The doc says that they could take up to six months to fully fill in, and that they may not ever fully do so. And there’s not really anything he could recommend to promote that process. Nice. At least they’re not in a highly visible spot.
Not watching the World Cup because I just had an eye appointment and had them dilated and now I’m sitting in the parking lot of a baseball field wearing my old person over-the-glasses sunglasses and listening to the match while waiting for a baseball game to start and hoping I’ll be able to see by the time it does.
I just found out that my 93-year-old grandmother has been in the hospital since Saturday, when the car she was in rolled over. Apparently she’s OK. She suffered a large cut on her arm that required stitches, and her chest is sore, which is why she’s still in the hospital under observation. She had a previous heart attack and her blood pressure is high, so they’re somewhat concerned about that.
I just spoke to her. She was talking quickly and rambling, but the story appears to be that my mother was driving with her boyfriend in the passenger seat and my grandmother in the back. Apparently a deer ran into the road (though my grandmother didn’t see the deer) and my mother swerved to avoid the deer and the car flipped over onto its roof. My grandmother was stuck upside down because her seat belt wouldn’t unbuckle. She had to stay like that until emergency responders could cut her out. My mother and her boyfriend were sent to the hospital and released.
It appears as though neither my grandmother nor my mother (who is, for lack of a better term, the black sheep of the family) felt this incident warranted notifying other members of the family. I guess word finally got to my aunts and uncle last night, two days after the fact, but they didn’t exactly rush to spread the news. I only just found out because my brother called around after stopping by my grandmother’s house at lunch and finding that not only was she not home, but there were unread newspapers, uncollected mail, and seven unanswered messages on her answering machine.
The hospital has to discharge her because insurance won’t pay for her to stay any longer, but they still want her under 24-hour care for a while. She refuses to go to a rehabilitation clinic, and they’re having trouble finding at-home care for her. My uncle told her that his girlfriend’s clinic might be able to take her and have Medicare pay for it (She’s a nurse, but I don’t know what clinic this is that she works at). She’s willing to do that, apparently. He’s supposed get more info and call my grandmother back, but he’s on his way to Vermont to look at vacation property, and she doesn’t know when he’ll be able to get back to her.
I have such a wonderful family.
Aidan’s baseball coach entered his team in the district Cal Ripken tournament, which we were told was going to held on week of July 4, but it turns out there’s no real schedule for this thing. We got an email at 9:00 Friday night saying that we had a game Saturday at 5:30, and that if the team couldn’t make it they had to forfeit. Fortunately, everyone made it. Unfortunately, they lost 4–2. But it’s a double elimination tournament, so they still have another game to play. The tournament people told us after the game that they’d let us know when our next game was. They did that at 9:00 last night, when we got an email saying our game is at 5:30 today. Who the hell “organizes” a tournament like this? Someone with their head up their ass?
And don’t they know that the US has a World Cup match at 6:00?
What is wrong with these people?
Today was the last day for soccer. It ended with a story buzzing around the U6 boys group about a family who just recently moved here from the UK. They were cheering on their son by yelling, “Tackle, Tackle, Tackle!”
We don’t teach the word “tackle" at the U6 level; at this age it’s all we can do to get the kids headed towards the correct goal. In fact, even in the older age groups like Aidan’s (U9) I can’t recall the coaches actually using the word "tackle" during a game. So considering that we don’t use the word at the soccer fields, and considering the relative popularity of football and soccer in the US, it’s not surprising that some people would know what tackle means in football parlance, but not know that it’s also a soccer term with an entirely different meaning.
One mother of a boy on the opposing team of this English boy did not understand what this family meant by “tackle”. She went up to the league director, who was roaming around the fields, and screamed at him about this family that was encouraging their son to tackle kids on the field, and that she couldn’t believe that we would allow this sort of behavior. He tried to explain to her what they actually meant, but she apparently didn’t want to hear what he had to say. She screamed some more and said there was no way that she was enrolling her son in soccer again in the Fall and then she stormed off the fields.