Wednesdays are always a whirlwind for me.  I teach PE all day long, the people at my house always want dinner when I get home, and then I go back to teaching games to little kids, as I help out with the game time during youth group at our church.

By the time 8:00 rolls around on Wednesday nights, I look every bit as hot as Goldie Hawn does:

overboard_099(Don’t even get me started on the movie, Overboard.  I big-red-puffy-heart adore it.)

(And on Wednesday nights, I feel like Goldie did, in the scene where she’s sitting on the front porch, while the boys throw grapes at her face.)

(In other words, EXHAUSTED and also UNGLAMOROUS.)

So, I just have a couple of quick things for you this evening.

Number One.

I have two incredibly gifted athletes in my PE classes at school this year.  One is a 2nd grader, and the other is a 3rd grader.  Both of these boys are already capable of playing in the NBA.  You think I’m exaggerating, but I never exaggerate.

Not ever.

We were just wrapping up 2nd grade PE yesterday, the kids were changing their shoes, and I was ready to SEND THEM ALL TO RECESS.

Glory, glory, hallelujah for recess, especially — MOST ESPECIALLY! — when it’s not your turn for recess duty.

W (my basketball-playing 2nd grader) was shooting baskets in the gym, while he waited for his class to get their regular shoes back on.  He stood at the half-court line and asked me, “Will you bet me a candy bar that I can make a shot from half-court?”

“Yes.  Yes, I will.”

Because 2nd GRADER and HALF-COURT don’t always go together in the same sentence of success, I was fairly certain that this was a WINNER WINNER bet for me.  In other words, NO CANDY BARS.

He asked me how many shots he could take, and I told him that he could shoot until everyone was in line, ready to head outside.  Boom!  Boom!  Boom!  The kid fired off thirty shots, getting his own rebound every time, and he hit the rim or the backboard, all thirty times.

Let that sink in.

(Pun intended.)

He’s in second grade, and he hit the backboard or the rim THIRTY TIMES IN A ROW, from that HALF-COURT LINE.

I shot basketballs with him.

I made about twenty shots to his thirty.

I hit the backboard once.

One time.

No more.

The crowd would’ve had a ball shouting out, “AIR BALL!!!!” at me.

I was a little nervous, because I kept envisioning myself having to fork over a candy bar for his efforts, but none of his shots went in.

Then… my little 3rd grader walked through the gym and asked what we were up to.  W told T, “She’s gonna buy me a candy bar, if I make a basket from here.”

T asked if he could get in on the bet, too.

“Yes.  Yes, you can.”  It was because I believed, in my knowledge of basketball, that a 3rd grader had about as much chance as a 2nd grader does of making a basket from the half-court line.

T asked how many shots he could take.

I said, “Well, the 2nd graders are lined up and ready to go outside to recess… so I guess you have time for one shot.”


Nothing.  But.  The net.

People, my just-turned-nine-years-old-in-December third grader MADE A BASKET, ON THE FIRST ATTEMPT, FROM THE HALF-COURT LINE.  My biggest regret was that I hadn’t been recording him with my phone.

T looked at me and said, “That was for a full-sized candy bar, and not one of those dinky Hershey’s miniatures, right?”  Yes.  I believe that a half-court shot calls for the big milk chocolate bar.

I paid my debt today, and I brought that boy a candy bar.  And that’s when every other kid in my PE class started whipping balls from the half-court line and yelling out, “Will you buy me a candy bar, too?”

Let’s just say that the air balls ran rampant this afternoon, and I informed T that… once you win the lottery…. you’re done.  No shots for you today; come back one year.

Number Two.

I cooked cube steaks all day long in the slow cooker today, because REMEMBER THAT PART ABOUT HOW BUSY WEDNESDAYS ARE?  And how my people like to eat?  Well, outside of shouting out for Big Macs into a speaker on the side of McDonald’s, the slow cooker is my only bet for dinners on Wednesdays.  So… in the cube steaks went.  And then I raced home to caramelize some onions, because I’d found a quick and easy recipe for mashed potatoes with fancy onions, simmered in balsamic vinegar and sugar and oil on Pinterest.

Goodness!  How did we ever live before the Pinterest became the rage?

Now, my kitchen smelled like a twelve-star restaurant, and I was a bit excited about this comfort food dinner that was going to rock, and YES, I WORKED ALL DAY, BUT THIS HOME COOKED MEAL WITH THE CARAMELIZED ONIONS IS JUST A LITTLE SOMETHING I WHIPPED UP FOR THE PEOPLE I LOVE.

The cube steaks had simmered all day in a  homemade gravy that I’d whipped up this  morning.

They were as dry as a bowl of sand, taken straight out of the Sahara Desert.

Without a tall glass of water beside you, it was impossible to eat them.

The mashed potatoes turned brown.  They looked like mud.  My boys took one look at them and declared, “I won’t eat them.”

As it turned out, they looked like mud and tasted like dirt with burned onions mixed in.

In other words, I once again resembled Goldie, cooking in the kitchen.

6a00e54ee7b6428833014e8a24b722970d-800wiAnd that’s going to do it for this Wednesday, y’all.  Take care, and may your homecooked dinners taste better than just the love you put into them.



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