Additional Writings

Transported

I like sports.  I confess.  I know a lot about most of the major sports.  I suppose that it is partly because of exposure, and partly because I was trying to fit in with "the boys", and partly because I just like sports.

At any rate, it is beginning to cause some interesting moments.  I was recently talking to a female friend of mine, about how I was undecided about something, when I said, "I am so on the bubble on this."  Yes, I used a sports analogy.

She looked at me as though she didn't have a clue what that meant.  By then I realized what I had done, and gathered myself enough to refrain from explaining how "on the bubble" relates to the whether or not you get an invitation to the big dance (NCAA College Basketball Tournament), and then have a chance to maybe be a Cinderella story (advance in the tournament far beyond anyone else's expectations).

This is not an isolated incident.  In all honesty, it takes a bit of time and effort to get my make-up right, fix my hair, and choose just the right dress (with matching shoes, purse and jewelry).  All of these things together create an image, which allows me to be seen as the quite feminine female that I truly am.  Then, in a chat with the girls about how to throw a surprise party, I say something like, "Yeah, but the play-action pass doesn't work unless they're expecting you to run."  Well, it just doesn't quite fit with the image.

When something unexpected happens, and I fail to react quickly enough, I have been known to say, "Didn't see that curveball coming."  I can deposit the heater in the bleachers, but I usually whiff on the curve.

Most people understand what I am trying to say.  That's not the problem.  This is not something that I do from time to time.  There are days when I shoot bricks from the opening tip, until the final buzzer.

If someone just barely makes a deadline, they "beat the shot clock".  When something is almost outside the established guidelines, they "bent it around the flag pole".

When someone is doing something in obviously the wrong order, I shouldn't say, "Lead with the right, then follow with the left."  I could say, "Don't put the cart before the horse."  No, that dates me.  How about, "Wash the dishes first, and then dry."  Too domestic.  Maybe, "concealer, then foundation!"  That's more like me.

There are so many things to think about when you are as feminine as I am.  What I need are some new phrases.  Instead of, "It ain't over til it's over", it should be, "Don't leave the house until your nails are dry."  I could replace, "swinging for the fences" with, "dressed to kill".  When I get the urge to, "throw one high and tight", you know, "the old brush back pitch", I shouldn't say, "Don't crowd the plate".  Perhaps, "Give a lady some space" would be more appropriate.

On the other hand, someday, when the yet undiscovered love of my life is in the process of rounding third and heading for home, he will be using protective equipment, or there will be no play at the plate.

Now, all that said, there is one thing that I don't quite understand about sports.  When did all those guys in their sports uniforms get to be so sexy?

© 08/19/2009, Stephanie Mott

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