Both Mrs. Bone and I have experienced quite a bit of upheaval at work. I was informed my position was being discontinued. No worries, though. I will simply be transferred to another position; same pay, worse hours.
We found out the daycare we send the kids to for the summer is shutting down. So we've four months to find another place. Ha! I'd have a better shot of getting a liver transplant in that time.
I thought of starting a daddy daycare. But even just typing that creeps me out, what with Epstein and Diddy, et al.
If I may just say one thing to anyone even thinking of becoming a parent: get on as many waitlists as you can. Now. Because every place that isn't openly endangering children has a waitlist. If you wind up not having a kid and they call you with an opening, there's no cancellation fee.
Then last week, the brakes went out on my car. And one day the window refused to roll up on the Jeep. Why was I rolling the window down? It's literally ten degrees outside. I don't know.
And now, Mrs. B's car won't start and needs a new alternator.
I've tried to cast a positive spin on each pratfall. For example, at least I wasn't going 85 on the interstate when the brakes failed. At least it wasn't raining the day the window stopped working. I mean, it rained that night, but not like a ton. And my bath towel and duct tape barrier was barely impenetrable. (Barely? Hardly? I always get those two mixed up.)
Besides, things could always be worse. Haitian immigrants could have eaten our cat. I could have been forcibly catheterized. Or I could be an Auburn fan.
I've been trying to decide on a new family slogan. You know, something we could all rally around, really get behind. Here are my ideas so far:
"Taking a nose dive in '25."
"Refuse to thrive in '25."
And probably my favorite so far, "Somewhat glad to still be alive in '25."
But, and this is a huge but -- like if I didn't think it would screw up my sidebar or the rest of this post, I'd put it in 1638 font-size, all-caps, underscored and bold -- none of these things mattered last Tuesday night inside the back gym of the local civic center.
Because what happened there was a near-miracle. The 8-and-under Magic basketball team won a basketball game. For the first time in their opposite-of-illustrious history.
Despite losing their best player and leading scorer to a Christmas day skateboarding injury, and another kid who just stopped showing up.
Despite coming into the game with a record of zero wins and eight losses and having been outscored in those eight games by a combined 180 points to 58.
Despite trailing 11 to 8 in the fourth quarter.
And despite the obvious coaching deficiencies of yours truly.
With hustle and a never-give-up attitude the likes of which I have rarely seen (and one I definitely do not possess), a little luck and possibly divine providence -- I may have said several prayers -- this team overcame it all to defeat the Grizzlies 12 to 11.
Little Ralphie may have summed it up best when he looked at me on the bench, pointed towards the other team and said, "They're losing."
We may not win another game. (As I look at our upcoming schedule we almost assuredly will not.) But for one night, the kids were happy, the parents were happy, and I thought to myself, "I wonder if the concession stand is still open."
(It was not.)
"Of popcorn I shall be deprived in '25." Evidently.
I leave you today with a picture of snow in the deep, deep South.
This is from the uncles' place.... near the Gulf... of America.
God help us.
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