Spring Break Pics

Dare I merely post some family pics, without some acerbic and incisive commentary. I don't know if I have the strength...

Bowling Spring Break 2010

Things I have learned this week

1. 
   
   There are a lot more bad ideas for tattoos than good ones. People who go into a parlor asking "What do you think I should get?" ought to be immediately turned away. People who want to advertise their favorite pastime (NASCAR, the Bulls, the Longhorns...) ought to buy a t-shirt. People who want to put detailed 5"x5" pictures of both of their children, in color, as babies, on their calf... well, people whose right calf is big enough to put two 5"x5" color pictures of their children, they're exempt from these rules. Do what you want.
2. The Orlando economy has over-estimated its worth. At the store here at the hotel, a 12 oz. bottled Coke is $2.67.
3. Playing "Connect the sunburn dots" is a lot more fun than it sounds.
4. Middle Schoolers are at the absolute peak of life-selfishness.
5. In person, bikini-wearers don't look the same as they do on the cover of the magazines you pretend you're not looking at while in line at Kroger.
6. The Bowling Six is threading the time-needle between having the youngest old enough to not be a drag while having the oldest young enough to not think that we are a drag. We must cherish these few days.

Send him to Elba

When I was in middle school, there was this kid Kevin (why do I still remember his name). He was the typical Napoleonic bully: small in stature, quick in action. He made his living picking on the peons of the class, and yes, while this will surely amaze you all, I was on of, if not the, peon of Mrs. Buchans 8C class.

For the entire year, Kevin picked at me: popping me in the back of the head while walking to the bathroom, tripping me up while going down the hall, pulling my backpack off as I was boarding the bus. Kevin continued to pick, daring me to retaliate; I never did.

The only thing keeping Kevin from actually throwing the first of many punches was Maurice Bedford, who took a liking to me and made it clear that Kevin would end up in pain if he started anything. Maurice doesn't play into this moral, but he deserves my appreciation all the same.

Just before summer, in the hall outside the bathroom just after lunch, the line in the sand was drawn. I was not going to deal with Kevin anymore. After a year of silence, I finally shot out a verbal threat to Kevin, who had undoubtedly done something to provoke it. I had not the experience, size or knowledge of how I was going to back up my statement, but I finally had the will.

The scene is still clearly before me, each of us standing with clinched fists, me wondering what exactly was supposed to be the next move, and him wondering if I had it in me to back up my threat. The group circled around, awaiting the first flinch. And I stood there, like a rock, body heating up, eyes starting to water, just this side of unhinged. I stared Kevin down. An eternity later, he took advantage of whatever distraction was in distance as an excuse to walk away.

I have no memories of Kevin after that day.