My Old Friend Murphy

Yes, you all know him!  Everyone, I assume, has a friend named Murphy.  My pal reared his ugly head this week.  You see, I got this asinine idea that I needed to do the Grouse Grind on my birthday.  For those of you not familiar with the Grind, that sucker is a 2.9 kilometre trail up the face of Grouse Mountain commonly referred to as "Mother Nature's Stairmaster"! (part of this insane idea came from just reading the book "Wild" by Cheryl Strayed.  Chick is amazing and powerful.  I, however, am not!)   I have only climbed it once before and it wasn't easy then.  Why the hell I think I can do it now is ridiculous.  If anything I am less fit and am sporting an even larger "party bubble" (in quotes because that is not mine, I stole it from a friend) than last year.  Where is my buddy Murphy?  Well, in light of the fact that I have proclaimed my self "mountain woman' and my money sucking children have decided to come with me, I decide I better not embarrass myself more than usual and start training.  Heck, I have a month, I should be golden.  This is the part where Murph comes a knockin.  Three days into my intensive training (figure of speech, as you probably guessed) I hurt my back.  I did not just hurt the sucker, it's clearly "out" and I cannot sit down for to long without shooting pain and then walking around like the Hunchback!  I suppose the good in this is that I am standing an awful lot and that has to be burning calories.  One would think right?  (or is that offset by the medicinal wine I have been drinking?)  Two lessons learned with this one: next time I  get a wacked out idea to do something exercisy I will talk to someone rational before opening up my big trap and committing AND next year I will go back to my previous years birthday celebrations and go to Coach and buy myself a new birthday bag!

Bulldogs?

This is a delicious Mexican Bulldog



and this ........

 

is a Ghetto Bulldog

 

(Ghetto Bulldog courtesy of Killer's Parents - who I understand do not live in the Ghetto but enjoy the selection of  beverages from that side of the tracks!  For the record and those who don't know - they did not name the boy Killer, totally a nickname, I mean come on people!)

 

Best Season EVER

Anyone who has had a child in sports knows that the best sport seasons are the ones where the parents all get along and have a great time.  Non-sport parents would think the best seasons would have to be when the child's team wins or goes to some fancy playoff thing.  This is absolutely NOT the case.  If you have a bunch of wack-job parents on the team they can absolutely ruin a sport season hands down, whether or not the team is winning or losing.  I have had the misfortune of having to deal with some of said "crazies".  From parents who steal money from other parents and other associations, to bitching out team officials publicly, to losing their pickles because their Johnny isn't regarded as the next "superstar", I have seen almost everything.  A few of us have often joked that when a team is picked it is more important to interview the parents than the kid.  Who cares if the kid isn't the next Sidney Crosby or Gait off spring, if his parents are awesome and like to have a good time - he's in (or she, don't want to be sexist). 

So that leads me to this past LAX season.  Most of us are sorry to see it end.  Not only was the team rocking out the wins and the coaches were amazing but the crazy group of kids all got along so well it was a bit of a shock.  Usually there is one nutty apple in the basket.  Shockingly, not this time.  And the parents?  Well, some of us might have gotten along as well.  Maybe to well actually.  I dare to say a group of us might be going through a little withdrawal right now.  Friday nights are going to be boring for awhile.  It was an interesting lacrosse season for me.  The season started out with flies and lies and ended with beers and giggles.  Sometimes things just have a way of working themselves out, don't they?