Laps and Hoses

This week I used my newish camera from David to document a couple of Jarrah's school events. I told him it was high time I learned how to connect pictures to my words if I want to be a real blogger (kind of like being a real boy, this will make me less wooden.)

The first was the annual Jog-a-Thon fundraiser (shudder.) I can't imagine what kind of sadist dreamed this up, but apparently it's a sadist with connections, because they seem to have them at many schools. The kids get pledges of dollar amounts per lap they complete, or in the case of our clueless little diva, a lump sum donation for the event. The super-cute visors were someone's brilliant (no, really) way to keep track of the laps completed--as the kids whiz by, volunteers check off the numbers on the brims.

The gorgeous lighting in these photos is courtesy of some ridiculous weather we were having that day--clear, sunny and about 45 degrees. Maybe those of you on the east coast scoff, but dahling, 45 degrees with the WIND CHILL FACT-UH was sheer agony. A couple of the moms had gloves and scarves on, and I thought that was a little over the top...for about five minutes. Notice that child protective services will soon be paying me a visit for outfitting my cherub in running shorts and a tank top while her little friends were snug in Diddy-esque warm-up suits. Whaddaya want? I thought she'd get hot with all that running.

And run she did--15 laps. Not short ones. Oh, no. I know this for certain because I ran one with her class, just to be sporting (oh, let's face it--to show how cool I am.) Not very, as it turns out, because after dragging my sorry self across the checkpoint, I felt very distinctly that I had broken my lungs.

I thought Jarrah ran an absurd amount, but there were actually a few kids in her class who ran four or five more laps than she did. I think those were the same kids whose parents got up in their grills after every lap and screamed "What the @#$%&* are you doin' out there? Pathetic! Get your head in the game!" Come to think of it, a disturbing number of children in general crossed the checkpoint each time covered in tears. Not my kid, as you can see. No grass grew under her feet.

The other big event of the week was the Daisy field trip to the San Carlos Fire Station to earn the petal "Respecting Authority." Snicker. I perked up considerably when I heard we were going to be hanging with firefighters on a Thursday afternoon instead of gluing pipe cleaners on stuff. This was the first Daisy event where I wasn't semi-comatose after 10 minutes. I had kinda hoped they'd be shirtless (I mean, where is their sense of civic duty?) but at least they were hot. I was especially diverted by the interlude where Fireman Jason got dressed in slow stages while Fireman Robert narrated his transformation. "Sigh," I told the other moms. "There's just something about a man with an ax." I was a little disappointed that all the girls got to climb into the engine but no one invited me. Harumph. I was pretty impressed with my own questions: "Do any women work here?" (Two.) "Are firefighters in the movies accurately costumed?" (Yes, but fires are ridiculous; there should be much more smoke.) "Is it a myth that all firefighters are excellent cooks?" (It's not a myth. They have to live at the station in 24-hour shifts. They all cook or suffer the consequences.)

In other news, I am loving being back at college, and I've had three awesome rehearsals with my "VM" cast. But more on all that in future posts.