As you may have heard, we’re in the midst of March Madness. This means that instead of walking a plastic bottle over to the recycling bin, Dad now shoots, misses, and yells, “goal tending.” (Score so far: Dad: 0; recycle bin: 5.)
It also means the TV is tuned to basketball a lot. Possibly even more than a lot. And when it’s not basketball, it’s hockey (Frozen Four preliminary games), because apparently there are real life penalties for going sports-free during this season. (Score so far: Dad: much cheering; Booker: napping interrupted with each score).
The TV remote is getting an incredible workout. I’m sure it works for Dad (I think it’s a man-thing), but the constant channel flipping is scrambling my brain a little. It’s like we’ve invented the new game of baske-hockey. The announcers really don’t sound all that different, but the squeaky sneakers are definitely different than hockey skates. (Score so far: shorts: same length for hockey and basketball; broadcasters: closer to a heart attack than seems necessary; bad commentating: he’s not only in the flow, he’s playing swimmingly—could be for basketball or hockey.)
Dad is (unsurprisingly) commenting on the games, the refereeing, and the sportscasting. The only thing I haven’t heard him talk about is fashion statement of the uniforms. (Score so far: Uniforms: un-evaluated; players: not playing up to in-house standards: officials: need you even ask?)
In other sporting news, I’ve been creating chaos in the kitchen, but so far I haven’t burned anything. (Score so far: successes: 1; disasters: 1.)
Spring break has started here. This is good news for Pi who is still healing. Unfortunately, the freezer seems to be warming up along with the weather. (Score so far: crocuses: happily blooming; appliances: negative 5 b’zillion; Booker: doesn’t like walking in the rain.)
No big plans for the week, although I am hoping to have more successes than overt failures in the kitchen. (Score: TBD.)