"Last night I had the strangest dream.
I sailed away to China,
In a little rowboat to find you,
And you said you had to get your laundry clean.
Didn't want no one to find you,
What does that mean?"
So it wasn't last night, but a few nights ago - I had an odd dream. I dreamt that Brooklyn packed her own lunch and was so proud of herself. I opened it to check it out and she had made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and it was oozing PB&J all over the place. And it looked like instead of bread, she had used 2 huge pancakes. Funny stuff. Then I moved the PB&J aside to see what else she had put in her lunchbox and started pulling out carrots. And more carrots. And more carrots. I'm not sure why, but pretty much all that was in there was PB&J and carrots. In my dream, I got upset with her. Not too upset, but definitely not happy that she had done it all herself.
As I try to interpret this odd one, I come to 2 possible scenarios. One is that I'm such a type-A personality, that I can't handle the idea of Brooklyn packing her own lunch (read: growing up and doing things for herself) for fear that it won't be done correctly and that she'll make a mistake. (Yes, I know, I need to just relax and let go - if she ties her shoes herself and trips on the laces, she will learn.) The second scenario is that I'm worried that she's not getting enough good stuff to eat, that because she pretty much only eats PB&J with the occasional carrot, that she is missing out on something. But if the doctor isn't concerned, I guess I shouldn't be.
One more comment on my previous post about growing up and finding something to do. I had my iTunes on random as I was sending out emails and catching up on things this morning, and I heard a song I haven't heard in awhile. The lyrics caught my attention:
I'll probably never hold the brush that paints a masterpiece,
I'll probably never find the pen that writes a symphony.
But if I were loved then I would find,
That I have touched another life,
and that's something worth leaving behind.
I thought that pretty much covered things. I might not succeed at all that I want to, but I suppose in the end, if B and Kensi grow up happy and healthy and love me (of course they do!), then it is all good. But I'm still going to try and write the next great American Novel and maybe someday someone will make it into a screenplay. A girl can hope, right?
Moving on. Basketball. FUN-DA-MEN-TALS. Seriously. What am I talking about, you ask? I went to the Laker game on Tuesday night. And I got so frustrated. Yes, they won. I'd almost forgotten what the confetti raining down at the end looked like, given their recent loss to the Celtics and a few other trouncings they've taken. So they pulled it out. But really, it wasn't pretty. In a game that is pretty much defined by the superstars and their "run and gun" mentality, I think the team would be better served by spending a few more HOURS in practice working on the fundamentals. Boxing out. Squaring to the basket. Get your feet set. To all of my fellow high school and college athletes out there, remember the "KISS" principle? ("Keep It Simple Stupid.")
For those of you who played hoops for Mr. Root in 8th grade (I think he only coached girls teams, but I could be wrong) - he used to have something he called "one dribble nowhere." A ball would be passed to you and the first thing you did was dribble it and pick it up. What then? You're stuck. You either have to pass the ball and if no one is open, you have to shoot. You've taken away your ability to move. I was in the 8th grade and I learned to square up to the basket as soon as I caught the pass (yes, Pau Gasol, you have to CATCH THE BALL FIRST!) and NOT dribble it until I had an idea of where I was going. I cannot tell you how frustrating it is to watch guys get paid to play the game and screw it up so bad. (Ok, I get it - if they are getting paid to play, they must be doing something right.) Sure, but Gasol dropped 2 passes in a row at the low post spot, both resulting in turnovers that turned into baskets for the other team at the end of regulation, that resulted in Houston tying the game, that then forced overtime. And I lost count of how many times he caught the ball with his back to the basket and immediately put the dumb thing on the ground and started to dribble, going NOWHERE. (Let alone the fact that he can't seem to dribble the ball without looking at it or his feet.) ARGH!
And then there's boxing out. Anyone who remembers high school ball remembers endless hours spent on boxing out drills. Well, at least Coach Holmes did that to us. I think I even relived the horror for 2 seasons in college. Ball goes up, everyone boxes out. Apparently not in the pros. Apparently in the pros, if you are on offense and your teammate shoots the ball, you immediately break for the other side, assuming (I guess) that the shot will be going in. Really? During the Lakers-Celtics game on Sunday, they displayed a stat in the middle of the third quarter (it might have even been the 4th quarter) - the stat was something about second shot points or something like that. For the Lakers - 13. For the Celtics, 17. Basically, that translates to offensive rebounds and meant that neither team was really rebounding - that or both teams were putting in their shots on the first attempt. Either way, nobody was bothering to rebound.
I guess in the grand scheme of things, it is all about the show and the performance. You can't really give a good performance for the fans if you are worried about things like fundamentals. So I'll just have to grin and bear it when I go to the games and enjoy the spectacle of it all. But I don't have to like Pau Gasol. Nope, sorry, you can't make me. And I will make sure that when B gets older, she will learn how to box out and square to the basket and she won't be taking "one dribble nowhere."
Enough of my mental ramblings for now. I have a date with my mixer and need to get some cookies going for the big game party on Sunday. I might even make some M&M cookies just for fun. Have a great weekend everyone!