Just about everything I know about football–and certainly everything I know about basketball–I learned from my mom. (Let me pause to give credit to Al for expanding my football knowledge)
Although she loved watching football–to the point that chores were done by noon on Saturday in the fall–and many lesson plans were written during football games on Saturdays, she REALLY loved basketball. And she got into those games. I mean yelling at the TV like she was a man. Meanwhile, Dad was in the basement working on his model railroad.
And all that was during the regular season.
Then came March. And the ACC Tournament. And Selection Sunday. Mom would take the empty bracket printed in the Fayetteville paper from Sunday morning and fill it in as the teams were announced. Never mind the fact that the bracket would be printed all nice and pretty like in the paper the next morning. And there was no stopping her–or interrupting her during selection time. And then the NCAA Tournament started. And when Carolina was playing, she was coaching from the couch or her bedroom. She was, however, not one for the prognostication. She just filled in the brackets as the games went along.
And so it is, each March that I print out my bracket. I do wait until Selection Sunday is over…and I fill it in prognosticator-style. And then the Tournament starts and I am glued to the TV–coaching from my own couch. And I think of her and all the basketball we watched–whether we were cheering for the same team or not–and I miss her.
But it doesn’t stop me from watching basketball like my Momma used to do. And filling in my bracket along the way.
Even if it is horribly busted this year.
I decided it was time to find a new doctor–one with whom I felt more comfortable…and one where I felt heard and not rushed out the door. So I got a good recommendation from a friend to try a new place in North Raleigh.
I had an intake appointment today, which is a precursor to an actual physical. I left provincial little Apex and headed north, up US-1 to the Beltline and off onto Six Forks. Then wound through North Raleigh to the Spring Forest/Atlantic Ave intersection. I mean, this was NORTH Raleigh.
Some days I think I could live in the “big” city. But then I leave my open, provincial Apex and drive in the big city and realize that I like the provinces. I like living near the big city. Not so much in it. And there certainly is a qualitative difference between the two.
Ironic, this realization. Especially since my fantasy upgrade life is a loft in midtown some really, truly big city, with lots of black and white in the interior.
Of course, my other fantasy upgrade life is a newly renovated house on the edge of historic downtown Apex.
What can I say? I like the Peak of Good Living.
When the Mad Hatter (Johnny Depp’s) looked at Alice and said “You’ve lost your muchness. You used to be much…muchier,” I resonated.
I used to be much muchier too. But I seem to have lost my muchness.
Chalk it up to the time of year. I don’t do well starting about March 1 until after Mother’s Day. That part hasn’t changed or really gotten any better.
Chalk it up to the 60 hour work weeks and this semester from hell…which may not kill me outright, but it will damn sure test my mettle.
Chalk it up to the revolving door that is my semester and the feeling that I work all the time but never get anything out the door…because when Monday rolls around, there it all is–all over again.
Chalk it up to being 3 months into my thirties and the feeling that my life is a run away train and I can’t hop on long enough to enjoy the ride. (Cue Ben Folds’ Still Fighting It)
Chalk it up to being the mother of a child who is a 7 year old, a 10 year old and a 15 year old all rolled up into one 5 foot 2(???) body who has a ton of needs when it comes to school. And have I mentioned that he’s not motivated? Right. He’s 15.
Chalk it up to feeling the weight of being the mom–which I am at the end of the day–like it or not. And there’ s no changing that.
Chalk it up to feeling the weight of all of these things…and having Queen sing I want to break free in the back of your head. It’s no wonder I’ve wanted to go to Colorado or Big Sky or the Pacific Northwest. It’s big and open and there are no demands of me there.
Call it what you will…I used to be much muchier.