Crying Black and Gold Tears

It has been sitting in my closet since 2004.

It took three games for me to make the decision. Three times I watched this rookie go out on to the field and do what rookies aren't supposed to be able to do. He remained calm, composed, and got the job done. It was time for me to buy a Steelers jersey, so it was a no-brainer. I searched store-to-store until I found it. I bought #7, because I was impressed with the rookie quarterback.

I wore the jersey every Sunday for two seasons. And then, a little something happened. It was nothing major, certainly nothing that in any way impacted his performance on the field, just a little something one day while I was eating lunch. I had an in-person encounter with #7 and walked away from it a little uneasy. I know that NFL players often have almost split-personalities, that often they are not exactly The Finest of Men off the field, but the incident left me just plain not liking the guy. Sometimes, it's not the on-field stuff that is most important. Sometimes the quality of the human being does matter.

I tucked the jersey into the back of the closet.

Some time after that, Holmes was accused of domestic violence. I placed a little mental red check mark next to his name. Although the charges were dropped, simply being involved in such a situation made me uneasy. I didn't want him to be a Steeler anymore.

Then it happened again, this time with Harrison. Again I placed that little mental red check mark next to his name, this time with an even heavier heart. I was disappointed in the direction that his life had gone after all of the hard work he had done to get where he was. I didn't want him to be a Steeler anymore.

Then it was Reed. Over and over. I skipped the little mental red check mark and went for the Big Giant Mental Red Check Mark. I not-so-secretly hoped for a on-field failure so that the Steelers would be done with him, once and for all. Yes, you read that right--I have wanted Reed removed from the Steelers roster since his first run-in with the police.

And now back to #7. That jersey still sits in my closet, crumpled up on the floor in a ball. I can't imagine myself ever wearing it again. I can't imagine myself doing anything other than cutting it into pieces.

Right now, I can't imagine myself watching a Steelers game with Ben Roethlisberger on the field.

Football players don't need to be saintly. They don't need to be perfect human beings. They don't even have to be nice people. In my eyes, however, they do need to be decent human beings. They do need to act like grown-ups with real jobs. And if they are going to wear the black and gold, they need to avoid doing things that will result in a call to a police officer.

Would I give up those two recent Super Bowl victories to have a team I could be proud of? Yes. Yes, I would.

It's a Genetic Problem of Sorts

School pictures.

Those words are enough to send me running for the nearest corner, where you'll find me rocking back-and-forth in the fetal position.

I hated school pictures with the fire of 1,000,000 suns. Every year they were a special sort of torture involving unfortunate wardrobe choices, bad hair, splotchy skin, tears, pain, torture, and did I mention unfortunate wardrobe choices? Yeah. Those.

My mother never let me have a say in what I wore for school pictures. Eventually I figured out to pack what I wanted and change once I got to school, but before that, HOOBOY.

Let's just say that a woman whose closet contains a kaleidoscope of polyester elastic-waisted pants and brightly-patterned tent-like tops should not be making wardrobe decisions for a school-aged kid. If I had copies of any of the photos, I would happily post them, if only because I'd be sure to win the Bloggy for Most Pitied Blogger. Voting would be a landslide.

Today was Alexis' School Picture Day. In the past, it's been nothing short of a disaster. The episodes have ranged from her refusing to pose without a teacher holding her, right on up to the most recent attempt when she glared at the photographer, told him, "You're not funny," and then stormed off. Rumor has it one photo was taken of that fateful day, but the photographer didn't even bother to print it. Frankly, I was a little sad because I thought it had the potential to be the Worst Photo Ever.

Despite The Disaster that is Alexis' School Pictures, she still LOVES the hype. They take them twice a year at her preschool, so twice a year she bounces home the day before The Disaster, eagerly chattering about what she's going to wear and how cute she is going to look.

Yesterday was no exception. Before I could even blink, Alexis had picked out a red sundress and summer shoes. I knew it was only going to be in the low 60's today, but I am Captain Overcompensation, so I let her have her way. So what if she would freeze all day! She would be wearing the clothing of her choice! Go me!

In order to fully own my title Captain Overcompensation, I also had to do the kid's bidding and French braid her hair. I got up an extra twenty minutes early just to do it. Me. Who doesn't do mornings. And people say the kid is spoiled . . .

The final touch was to fulfill the kid's wish to wear a necklace. As she stood in the bedroom, grinning from ear-to-ear, I looked at her perfectly coifed hair and adorable little dress and thought, "RED!" She needed a red necklace. The only problem was that she doesn't have one, so I carefully opened my jewelry box and gently picked up my red necklace.

It's not an expensive necklace, really, but it is a sort of "real" necklace. It's turquoise and red, made of sterling silver and whatever kind of stones. It wasn't terribly expensive, but it was hella lot more expensive than the plastic Mardi Gras beads the kid usually wears. With a flourish, I placed it gently around Alexis' neck, watching as her eyes lit up like fireworks.

She. was. thrilled.

"You're the best momma EVER!" she declared.

Overcompensation has it's perks. For sure.

Just before we piled into the car, I asked Alexis to show me her Pretty Girl Smile that she was going to put on display for the school photographer. I got this:

Yeah. So. School Pictures. I have very low expectations.

Project 365 Rebooted

I started the year with good intentions. I joined Project 365 with the idea that it would be a good way for me to break out of my very severe photography slump. It may be hard to tell, but just before we moved, I almost completely stopped taking photos. Sure, I manage to conjure up one to post each day, but the quality of what I'm posting has gone way down. I'm just not taking my camera out nearly as often as should be, not as often as I want to be.

The blame is my own, but if I'm looking for excuses, I'm going to draw a big circle around the house. Between last summer's packing and unpacking, painting and cleaning, tiling and digging, my hands have been pretty full. Too full for a camera. There is also the fact that my daily commute more than tripled when we moved. Instead of having an hour to play with before Mr. Husband reached home, I now rush to get there, with no time to stop for a leisurely walk in the park with my favorite short person.

I need to get back on track. I want to get back on track.

To whit, I'm taking Casey's challenge. I will take 365 photos I love this year. I WILL. I'm at about 30 right now, so I have some catching up to do.

Yell at me if I start to slack again, please and thank you.

 

My absolute favorite photo so far this year. I kind of have to post it again since I don't have anything new. :-(