An article I wrote . . .

. . . that was published in the local paper. If you can't read it, and it's likely you can't unless you have super-powered eyesight, here it is below:

Midcoast United wins at Gray
Submitted Article

The Midcoast United soccer team claimed another on-the-road victory, this time at Gray. With both offense and defense working in harmony, they came up with a decisive 5-1 win. In usual MidU style, forward Simon Spear brought the ball down and passed to Ella Spear, who scored a goal within the first few minutes. Energized by the quick score, the Spears assisted center Ethan Quinlan as he re­ceived a pass that he took straight to the net for another goal. Simon Spear scored the third goal, putting the team up 3-1 by halftime.
Defensive players Markus Rus­sell and Patrick Gudroe consistent­ly cleared the ball both to hold the Patriots back as well as to allow the forwards to go to the net. Taking advantage of their strong defense, Quinlan put their fourth goal in. Will Perkins was a hustler in the right wing, beating the opponents to the ball every time. Notably, Perkins scored the fifth and final goal of the game, his first of the season.
With the opposing team taking a total of eight shots on goal, keeper Henry Drapeau's skills and judg­ment were excellent. Time and again he kept the opponents out of scoring positioning with his excep­tional throws.
Against a team twice their size, MidU showed its stamina as well as flexibility to play any position needed. The team's next game will be a home game against Merry-meeting this Sunday at 10 a.m. at Clifford Park.

Aint mama proud!

A Little Homelessness, A Lot of Insanity

So we have officially been homeless for a month now. I am also officially ready to commit some sort of pyschotic act, and the fact that I haven't already done so surprises me fully. Should I be checked into a mental hospital, fear not. I'll just be getting the r&r I so desperately need.

Our adventure started out with a little whitewater rafting in Colorado. We ran class 3 rapids (on a scale of 1 to 6, 6 being unsurvivable) and it was great. Ethan got to paddle us through some rapids which he totally loved. Maddie got seasick and they had to stop the entire seven raft operation. Luckily for her and the crew, she recovered quickly and we were all able to finish the run.

Our next stop was Hershey, PA, where the kids and I rode on the infamous chocolate ride, where you get to see how candy bars are made from start to finish. We laughed at ourselves because we bought a tin of Hershey candy bars--something you can get at any gas station across the U.S.A.

After Hershey was a stop at G-Grammie Q's house in South Jersey--yeah, I'm an east coaster now. That's how they say it! For those of you that don't know, South Jersey is green and beautiful. North Jersey is where the factories and mob members hang out. G-Grammie treated us like royalty with a welcoming Thanksgiving-esque dinner. We had such a good time we stayed an extra day.

After Jersey we attended the Quinlan Family reunion in East Boothbay, Maine, pretty much the vacation capital of the world. The Quinlans live on a cove of water, a little fresh river and salty ocean mix that's almost too cold to swim in--but not for my kids. They have been taking a dip every day. Ryan has taken me out sailing a few times and I have gone for solo kayak rides. My only complaints about Maine are the humidity and the mosquitoes.

The kids are now registered for school in Maine. There are about 30 kids (2 classes) per grade. Ethan had soccer tryouts and made the team! I have already been "volunteered" to do the book fair.

We saw the house we're going to be renting until next May. It is beautiful! It's a new house that's been fully furnished and the owners are Britons who gave us an awesome deal. Without their generosity we wouldn't be able to enjoy such a nice place while Ry is at M.I.T.

Speaking of M.I.T., Ryan just finished his first week. You know what? I think we just might make it. He likes it so far. And if the kids and I can just get moved into our house on the 28th, I'll wave to the looney bin as I'm driving by, instead of checking in.

The Lesson

If you haven't read my previous post, "Lest I Forget," read that one first since it provides a frame of reference for this next tale.

It is a tale of valor, and a tale of suffering. It is a tale of sorrow, but also a tale of hope. Ultimately it is a tale about what happens when you tell the truth, a truth that no one would have ever known.

It was the sudden death golf playoff between Ethan and his opponent. Whoever won this hole would go on to fight for the title. Whoever lost this hole would pack it in and go home.

In normal fashion, Ethan took several warm-up shots for his first drive. After one he looked around hesitantly, then drove the ball toward the green. He and his opponent battled out the hole, only for it to end in a tie.

As Ryan and Ethan got in their cart to go to the next hole, Ryan had remembered Ethan's look of hesitation earlier.

"Did you mean to hit the ball?" He was referring to Ethan's warmup swings. The rules of golf state that you do not get penalized for taking warmup shots, but you do if you intend to hit the ball and then miss.

"I did."

Ryan's heart sank.

"What do you think we should do about it?"

"Tell L." And with tears streaming down his face, Ethan walked over to a surprised opponent and congratulated him on winning the match.

What do you do when you have everything to lose by being honest?

Well, maybe not everything. Maybe you gain a little perspective. Maybe you work a little harder the next time.

Maybe

you

learn.

Lest I Forget

So Thursday was pretty much one of the worst days I've had in a LOOOOONNG time!

It started innocently enough. Let me describe the recipe for the disaster:

Take one mom who thinks her son can be the next Phil Mickelson.

Add a Championship golf tournament which her son absolutely blows away the competition on the first round.

Shake in a little boy (son's opponent) who, by the rules, should not even be in the tournament, but has lost to Ethan by a dozen strokes previously.


Toss both into a 2nd round pressure cooker tourney with outside temps well over 100 degrees.

Ethan lost to the little boy.

The upset made big mama upset.

Now add in threats of legal action, mom leaving work stressed out, and crying for the rest of the day because her son didn't win.

You now have the product of a good day gone horribly wrong.

And it's a day I never want to repeat. Looking back, I see several mistakes I made:

1. I had too much emotion riding on this tourney. It's a bunch of little boys playing golf, for crying out loud!

2. My philosophy of winning became the philosophy of winning at ridiculous costs.

3. I thought only of the bad in the situation and not the good.

Confession: I think deep down I was even irritated at poor little Ethan for not beating the pants of a kid he has beaten every single time before.

Big mama has big problems.

So now big mama is changing her tune.

1. She will invest Ethan's tourney's with the right amount of emotion, not too much and not too little.

2. She will not hate little boys that beat her son! :)

3. She will take her drugs, swear off all legal threatenings, and find a hobby to take off her nervous edge.

I'm turning over a new leaf.

Why didn't I?

It was a moment of weakness. I already had an A in Professor Johnson's English 210 class and was the teacher's pet. She loved me and can I just say my analytical writing skills were kick ay-uss? I hadn't done my homework but I counted on her "forgetting" she had assigned it. That day, instead of having us get our work out, she said she would just ask us if we had done it. It was on our honor to say yes or no.

I meant to do it. Doesn't that count for something? Heck, I even wanted to do it. That's good enough for me.

"I did it." The words came out of my mouth unbidden. I couldn't take them back. Could she see that I was lying so outrageously? I expected her to frown in displeasure, call me out. But no such luck. She wrote down 10 points for me, her pencil hatches a blow to my gut.

I don't even remember what the rest of the class was about. All I could think was that I lied. Liar liar pants on fire, hanging on a telephone wire. I had sold my soul to the devil for a blasted ten points. Thus started my conscience on a wild ride of terror and guilt that would not be abated.

Unless. Unless I possibly told her the truth? Could I do it? No. How? But I had to! I had to tell her I was a dirty homework whore.

Shame decreed that I wait until after class so my lie wouldn't be discovered by my classmates. But shame also kept me waiting so long I had to chase my professor half-way across campus on her way to her next class.

"You know that homework you assigned? I didn't do it." I waited for her hatred, her anger, her lecture. She barely glanced back. Thank you shame for providing the perfect timing.

"I'll make a note of it," she said, and hurried on her way.

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Her face popped into my mind. A good friend. She was a recent friend, as timelines for friends go. I had only known her five years. But we were of like mind on so many things.

Religion, for example. She never judged me when I let mine, which happened to be hers, go. She was my designated driver when I drank three sips of a martini (I'm a lightweight). She dragged me to the artsy-fartsy movies and I dragged her to the scary ones.

I have kids; she has a four-legged furry pal that is as naughty as any kid I've ever known. She puts up with my philosophying and I put up with her quirks.

I need to call her, I thought.

But I didn't. Several more times my thoughts wandered to her and I smiled. But two kids can be distracting.

Two weeks later we go to dinner.

Me: "You look like you're doing good."

She: Hesitates. "A couple weeks ago I was at that point. I made plans for FP (furry pal) to be taken care of. I researched how I was going to do it."

Do it, meaning: if I have to spell it out you are not worthy to read this blog.

Just as I am not worthy to be a friend.
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I use to have a golden ring with a princess-cut diamond. Two round diamonds on either side of the center stone finished it off.

I used to have a bastard of a fiance. He gave me the ring. When he called off the wedding, he wanted it back.

We both stood by the Provo Temple fountain.

I put it back in his hand.

He left me alone by the fountain.

Why didn't I chuck it in?

Haiku

White bump sliced off face.
With Band-Aid on cheek I work.
My friends ask, "What's up?"


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Since I have not been able to write about my life, I have turned to a web site that, with one push of a button, gives me a prompt to write about. Hence, today's haiku post and the previous letter post.

Try it if your ever stuck.
www.creativity-portal.com/prompts/imagination.prompt.html

A Letter to Myself (from myself, 20 Years in the Future)

Dear Stephanie,

Right now you are 32 years old. I am fifty two. I figure that those two extra decades give me license to dispense advice willy nilly. So here it is.

Right now you will never be more beatiful than you are. Be grateful for the body you have. Not so much father down the road you will wish you had appreciated it more. Instead of ruing belly flab you'll be lamenting achy joints. Instead of complaining of acne you'll be fighting osteoporosis. Just get over yourself now and get on to the business of enjoying life.

Your kids are now out of the house. I can see what they've become, but I won't tell you. Ha. Instead, make sure they don't have too many reasons to resent you (they will have some! hee, hee) and make sure they have good therapists. Don't teach them the lessons that anyone can learn. Teach them the lessons that very few children will learn and they will be successful.

If you think sex is good now, it gets even better with age. :)

Make each week an adventure. I'd say each day, but too much adventure can be tiresome. Challenge yourself to do things you hate so you can grow. On the other hand, life is too short to eat nasty food, so don't worry if you don't like raw carrots like everybody else.

Sometimes there are things you have to do in life for no other reason than to do them. Finishing a job is a lesson itself.

Continue to read CNN.com, your bodice rippers, your philosophy books, and your history books. It will continue to make you happy.

Don't let fear hold you back. Life is too short. I'm here on the back end of it, and I want to make sure you make choices that will set me up for happiness in my fifth decade of life. I don't want to be sitting here with lots of regrets.

You can't take it with you, except possibly your Dior sunglasses.

Treat others with love and kindness and respect. You will fail at this, many times over, but you need to keep trying. Sometimes you can be a hot-tempered be-atch, but truthfully the world already has its quota of those. Work on being understanding.

Finish your novel. Don't find an excuse to not work on it. Do a little bit every week. Your characters can only find their lives and voices through you. Don't let them stay trapped in your imagination.

Finally, remember what a cool person you are. You're the shiz. The bees knees. The midnight train to Georgia. You're the bomb dot com, to use some phrases from your era.

Make me proud.

--Stef