My husband has coached soccer, volleyball, and softball for kids in middle school and elementary school. He's really quite good at it, but I have noticed he exhibits certain behaviors that my friends' husbands just don't seem to have. I'm not saying these behaviors or good or bad. I'm just saying these behaviors are:
How You Can Tell Your Husband is a Coach
The top 10 indicators are:
10. When your family goes for a summer evening walk together, it's just you, your husband, the kids, and a family of soccer balls, one required per person.
9. He doesn't understand what the big deal is in the Tom Hanks movie "Cast Away" when Tom Hanks befriends a volleyball.
8. He wears shorts all weekend, regardless of the temperature.
7. You've lost the battle about having balls all over the living room, although you did manage to keep them out of the kitchen by walking around with the carving knife.
6. When he can't sleep, he plays recordings he made of English Premier League soccer games, turns off the picture, and just listens to the sound with his eyes closed.
5. Your 12-year-old daughter won a World Cup Soccer bracket pool, beating her second-place dad by picking Germany instead of Italy, and he is still mad.
4. He moved the Venetian blown glass vase from the coffee table to a closet, replacing it with the softball from the 10U league championship, autographed by all the girls. ("Sign your name and your number", directed the Coach. One girl put her name and phone number. A coach really needs to be crystal clear in his instructions.)
3. His idea of dressed up is wearing the AYSO T-shirt that has the embroidered logo rather than the printed logo.
2. When he asks his daughter to pass the bread at dinner, she throws a fast pitch and then explains why it was high and outside.
1. After dinner, he puts everybody's hands together and makes them shout "Two-four-six-eight, who made that dinner really great? Mom! Mom! Mom!".
Of course, being married to the coach impacts your behavior, too. Which leads to:
The top 5 indicators that you are the coach's wife
5. You can score a fielder's choice, a 6-3 double play, or an infield fly rule, while discussing whether the pitcher balked.
4. You've created three files to hold all the gift cards. One file for Sports Authority, one file for Fry's electronics, and one for Nordstrom's (well, you know, the team parents always ask the coach's wife where to get the gift card from).
3. Every time someone leaves their towel on the floor, you track them down and say "Give me 10, NOW".
2. You completely understand the offsides rule (and get it right when the f&*!$n referee doesn't).
1. You never have to drive the kids to games, bring snacks, or plan the team party, because you are the coach's wife.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Taking a sick day -- eom
If you, like me, have been in the corporate world for 12+ years (12+ is the biggest number you are allowed to put on a resume -- come on!), then you've experienced every possible vacation plan. You've experienced the plans that provide an additional week every five years, or the ones that accumulate 1.25 days per month the first year, followed by 2.375 days per month in subsequent years. You've experienced floating holidays, paid holidays, optional holidays, required holidays, shut-downs, paid time off, personal days, (impersonal days?), and your birthday off.
And you've had the variations of sick time. These come in essentially two forms: you get them, or you don't. That is, a sick day counts against your vacation, or it doesn't.
Now everybody close your eyes and raise your hand if you have ever called in sick without actually being sick (*gasp*) when you had the kind of sick day that doesn't deplete your vacation time. Hmmm.... do I see a few hands?
Just for the record, this is on my mind because I just finished two days of sick time, home with the flu, and I'm pretty darn happy I currently have the kind of sick time that doesn't count against my vacation. That would have stunk, since sitting in 4 layers of sweatshirts under 5 blankets staring into nothingness isn't exactly a trip to New Zealand, although, on the brighter side, it is a lot less expensive.
Of course, I still feel tremendous guilt over the time 12+ years ago that I called in sick to go with my acting friends to be an extra in the movie "Patty Hearst". As I recall, this involved walking arm in arm with some extra guy from Point A to Point B of Berkeley's campus. Over and over again. In the rain. In 70's styles. As if that weren't enough punishment for lying, they ended up not using any footage from that day. I was consumed with guilt with no movie debut to show for it. My true acting talent came into play the next two days, however, as my "cough" gradually improved. Oh, the shame, the shame.
Really, I need to get over this. I mean, how often do I see those emails that say "Taking a sick day <eom>" and wonder why the invalid provided no further details? Usually, people love telling details about their illness. You know: "When I woke up, my fever was 102, but then I took two Tylenol, two Vicadins and a Valium, and I felt much better, except I can't find my feet." The cryptic emails, on the other hand, seem just a tad suspicious. I'm just saying.
Since I'm still recovering (No! Really, I am!), I'm going to relax now and watch a movie. I'll be looking for you in the crowd scenes.
And you've had the variations of sick time. These come in essentially two forms: you get them, or you don't. That is, a sick day counts against your vacation, or it doesn't.
Now everybody close your eyes and raise your hand if you have ever called in sick without actually being sick (*gasp*) when you had the kind of sick day that doesn't deplete your vacation time. Hmmm.... do I see a few hands?
Just for the record, this is on my mind because I just finished two days of sick time, home with the flu, and I'm pretty darn happy I currently have the kind of sick time that doesn't count against my vacation. That would have stunk, since sitting in 4 layers of sweatshirts under 5 blankets staring into nothingness isn't exactly a trip to New Zealand, although, on the brighter side, it is a lot less expensive.
Of course, I still feel tremendous guilt over the time 12+ years ago that I called in sick to go with my acting friends to be an extra in the movie "Patty Hearst". As I recall, this involved walking arm in arm with some extra guy from Point A to Point B of Berkeley's campus. Over and over again. In the rain. In 70's styles. As if that weren't enough punishment for lying, they ended up not using any footage from that day. I was consumed with guilt with no movie debut to show for it. My true acting talent came into play the next two days, however, as my "cough" gradually improved. Oh, the shame, the shame.
Really, I need to get over this. I mean, how often do I see those emails that say "Taking a sick day <eom>" and wonder why the invalid provided no further details? Usually, people love telling details about their illness. You know: "When I woke up, my fever was 102, but then I took two Tylenol, two Vicadins and a Valium, and I felt much better, except I can't find my feet." The cryptic emails, on the other hand, seem just a tad suspicious. I'm just saying.
Since I'm still recovering (No! Really, I am!), I'm going to relax now and watch a movie. I'll be looking for you in the crowd scenes.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Last Silicon Valley blogger blogs at last
Now that I've started blogging, there are only 42 people left in Silicon Valley who don't have a blog. And they were all born last night.
Yup, every 6th grader at my kid's middle school has a blog. I hope to have fewer misspellings in mine, though.
The point of my blog is to ...oh, come on. There is no lofty reason for blogging. It's just a narcissistic notion that people will flock to my blog because of all the bloggers, I'm the one that stands out. I've got such pithy thoughts and humorous musings, I'll go viral by Thursday.
Tonight's topic: My book club. I joined one recently that has very lax rules. Reading the book, for example, is optional. If you prefer, you can watch the movie. Luckily, we don't have any members who actually like to prepare. Except food. Many members like to prepare very good food.
We meet once a month on the third Monday, except when it turns out to be a holiday, or an evening when college-age children are visiting, or middle school children have an extra dance rehearsal, or it's summer. In those cases, we send each other emails to determine an alternate date that works well for everyone. In December, we brought down three ISPs with the traffic we generated. We did reach a resolution, however, so it was worth it. We postponed our meeting until January.
We're a group of women about my age, which is greater than 30 and less than 60. My age has quite a range, apparently. We spend a certain amount of time each meeting discussing the book, and a certain amount of time discussing everything else. Usually everything else wins by a ratio of about 10 to 1. Maybe 20 to 1 if wine is served. 30 to 1 if wine is served and somebody's child just got accepted to college.
I usually do read the book, unless it really stinks. This month, I haven't read it. Every time I was at the library, I forgot to get it, and then this past weekend at the library I remembered to get it, but forgot what the book was I was supposed to get. I suppose this is why only women my age are allowed in this book club.
I have read several books, however, that I would not have otherwise read. I have met and enjoyed evenings with several women that I would not otherwise have met. I have written a blog that I would not otherwise have written.
Yup, every 6th grader at my kid's middle school has a blog. I hope to have fewer misspellings in mine, though.
The point of my blog is to ...oh, come on. There is no lofty reason for blogging. It's just a narcissistic notion that people will flock to my blog because of all the bloggers, I'm the one that stands out. I've got such pithy thoughts and humorous musings, I'll go viral by Thursday.
Tonight's topic: My book club. I joined one recently that has very lax rules. Reading the book, for example, is optional. If you prefer, you can watch the movie. Luckily, we don't have any members who actually like to prepare. Except food. Many members like to prepare very good food.
We meet once a month on the third Monday, except when it turns out to be a holiday, or an evening when college-age children are visiting, or middle school children have an extra dance rehearsal, or it's summer. In those cases, we send each other emails to determine an alternate date that works well for everyone. In December, we brought down three ISPs with the traffic we generated. We did reach a resolution, however, so it was worth it. We postponed our meeting until January.
We're a group of women about my age, which is greater than 30 and less than 60. My age has quite a range, apparently. We spend a certain amount of time each meeting discussing the book, and a certain amount of time discussing everything else. Usually everything else wins by a ratio of about 10 to 1. Maybe 20 to 1 if wine is served. 30 to 1 if wine is served and somebody's child just got accepted to college.
I usually do read the book, unless it really stinks. This month, I haven't read it. Every time I was at the library, I forgot to get it, and then this past weekend at the library I remembered to get it, but forgot what the book was I was supposed to get. I suppose this is why only women my age are allowed in this book club.
I have read several books, however, that I would not have otherwise read. I have met and enjoyed evenings with several women that I would not otherwise have met. I have written a blog that I would not otherwise have written.
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