Last week I took the girls to my folks’ house to spend the day with my twelve-year-old nephew who was in town for the week. Justin, my nephew, is one of those kids who can pick up a video game he has never played before and pwn it. (Suddenly, instead of actually gaining worldly-wise points by using “pwn” I believe I’ve just morphed into your dead Aunt Gladys who used to smile through gloppy smeared lipstick and ask, “So, are you sweet on anyone? Hhmmm???”) Anyway, the game of the day was Mario Kart for the Wii, and before I could throw my keys onto the couch, I was challenged to a race. And although only two of us were racing, I actually came in sixth. (I’m still not completely clear on how that happened.)
MC: Mommy, sometimes I think you were born to lose.
Later that afternoon as I lost my balance and fell down while trying to rotate the lazy susan, I was once again told that I was born to lose. A few hours later, when I asked the girls to put their shoes on because it was time to go to the bathroom (I meant time to go home. Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if you could actually feel parts of your brain infarct. I’m imagining it’s not unlike Pop Rocks just inside the back of your skull.), it came up again. “You really WERE born to lose! Ha Ha HA HA HA HA!!!” And even at 39, when you’re told over and over (and over) again that you were born to lose, well, it begins to affect your mood. Maybe they’re right. No, they’re not right. Maybe they are. No. Maybe.
Later that evening, Jeff took the girls to the YMCA to swim, and I drove to the nearest bookstore to pick up a copy of Infinite Jest. Yes. I am one of the many who have ambitious plans to participate in Infinite Summer, and although many may believe I was born to lose, this is something for which I am fully determined to pass muster. (I recently learned that it’s Muster and not Mustard. Apparently, you can cut the mustard, but you must pass muster. Four synapses just began firing again, and it feels like butter melting behind my ears.)
As soon as I can figure out how, I’m going to add some sort of progress update to my sidebar (below the ad thing, of course, because I’m wearing a XXL “Plays by the Rules” jacket) so I feel a pinch of accountability. Please feel free to update me on your progress, as well. Even if your progress has nothing to do with anything I’ve mentioned to you today.
Speaking of improvisational dancing, my final Sports Active update is up. If you go here and then click on the line of text right above the photo, you’ll be directed to a super secret location where you may cast a voyeuristic peeper upon me in a skirted swimsuit. This is a once in a lifetime experience, internet friends. Born to lose, indeed. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>