Speechless

How is it possible that I can think of nothing to write about?

Zilch. Zip. Zero.

I'm sure my closest friends and family would a) be shocked and b) suggest it's because I don't shut up enough and maybe I have finally run out of words.

My kids are still super cute, but I was away from them a lot this weekend at a Beth Moore conference and so I witnessed a limited number of adorable episodes, and most of them were repeats.

I could tell you about my amazing time at the conference, but I am still processing what my take away was (is). I will say, however, that the woman is stinkin awesome. She is funny, relatable, the real deal, and wise, wise, wise.

I have a few soap boxes I could rant about, some serious, some just pet peeves, but who wants to hear my loud opinion?

I will confess that I am mildly jealous of my daughters' skills. The girl is 9 and can dance and play soccer like a champ. I have never personally been on a winning team, nor was I ever known for my athletic prowess.

Aha. A few sports stories at my expense guaranteed to make you snicker if not guffaw.

I went to a wonderful private school. There were 74 students in my graduating class. Our varsity teams were competitive, our cheerleaders and pom pom girls were talented and were always part of those big groups you see on Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. But one of the luxuries afforded to us because we were small was we had opportunities to play sports we wouldn't have had at larger schools. Most of our sports had a "B" team and for a small window of time in late jr. high and part of high school (depending on the sport), all you needed was a permission slip and a physical to make the team.

When people ask me if I played sports in high school, I can say without any hesitation or dishonesty that I played basketball, volleyball, and softball. Now, if Josh isn't with me, the conversation can end there with their admiration and my pride still in tact. If Josh is there . . . well, the conversation usually goes something like this:

Josh: Well . . . define "played" (with a smirk and jerky laugh)
Me: Hush! I played those sports.
Josh: Yeah, she was an aggressive post player with an appetite for the ball.
Me: Shut it, Josh. I followed my coach's instructions and asked for the ball . . . a lot . . . by clapping my  
           hands . . . but whatever. It was fun and we made memories.
Josh: Tell them about your triple over time game.
Person we are talking to: WOW! Triple overtime!
Josh: (Laughing with his stupid hand over his stupid mouth.) Tell them the score, Rach.
Me: hmm to hay
Person: What?
Me: Ten to eight
Person: Oh.
Josh: (Feigning forgetfulness) And who were you playing?
Me: (So over it by now) The deaf school.
Josh: (rolling on the floor every time)
Person: Oh
Me: But those girls were mean and they never called fouls on them and yes that was a low scoring game  
           but we got better!
Josh: Right, why did he take y'all out for pizza?
Me: (sigh) because we broke 20 points . . . (and beating him to the punch) even though we still lost by
          15 . . . thanks, Josh.

And if we started out talking about softball or he manages to steer the conversation that way he will ask me to tell the story of how when it was my turn to practice batting, my coach would tell the outfield to go take a water break because I was up.

Volleyball was probably my best sport, but when I say best, I just mean there are no embarrassing stories to go with it.

But you know what? I got to experience sports. I got to be on a team. I got to build character.

And I can make Josh laugh every time I reenact my basketball skills.