Fury Soccer

Soccer has once again taken over our lives. How did this happen this time you might ask? I have only myself to blame.

"Hello," my husband answered his cell phone. Followed by a period of silence.

"No...um...no...I would love to...but um, I just don't have the time this year," he tried to come up with a believable excuse. "I could be an assistant coach though," he offered the next best thing.

"You can't talk on the cell phone!" I snapped my fingers. "You're driving! Here give me your phone, I'll talk to them for you."

"Hold on, I'm driving...here talk to my wife," he said as I pried the phone from his ear.

The Coaches Coordinator informed me that the U-9 Boys division was short 4 coaches this season. So if my husband didn't coach, who knows what kind of a team Rio would be placed on.

I couldn't help myself. "Okay he'll do it," I volunteered him.

The Coaches Coordinator was pleased. We worked out a few minor details and I hung up the phone.

"Really Babe?" my husband teased.

"Don't pretend like you don't want to," I poked him in his side. "And, hey...there's at least four other teams in our same position," I said. "It evens the playing field."

"If I'm coaching, you're managing," he told me. "Don't pretend like you don't want to."

So we agreed, and pledged our full commitment to our new team.

Here's to eating out of a Crockpot for the next 12 weeks. Go Fury!

.

Winning!

My husband and I booked our two free personal training sessions back to back. When we arrived, the sports club couldn't find our appointments, but were kind enough to squeeze us in for an hour of high pressure sales.

To help us more efficiently we were handed two forms. The trainer had us fill in privileged information such as height, weight, age, gender, and fitness goals. Then he used the information to calculate our BMI's with what looked like a high tech PS3 controller. I was 1% over normal.

"So...Nikki, what is your fitness goal?" the trainer asked.

"I'm going to loose 1% body fat this month," I responded.

"Impossible, that will take 6-8 weeks," he replied.

"Want to bet?" I challenged.

"What are we betting?" he asked.

"The satisfaction of being right," I presented the extremely high stakes.

"Okay, but you're not gonna win. If you could lose 1% in a month...you'd be the poster child for fitness," he warned me.

"We'll see," I answered. My confidence unwavering.

Later that night my husband questioned the wager.

"You know, there's a possibility you might be wrong on this one," my husband warned me. "That guy is personal trainer, he probably knows what he's talking about."

"That guy doesn't know anything," I barked back.

My husband raised his eyebrows at me.

"Okay, so I might of added 15 pound to the weight I wrote down," I filled him in on my tiny white lie.

"You're nuts...who does that?" he laughed.

I also wrote that I'm 29. Who says cheaters never win.

Here Ye! Here Ye!

I've said it before, but I'll say it again. Birthdays are a BIG DEAL!  Rio's party wasn't any exception. 

Remember the party idea that stemmed from the following conversation...

"Mom the small wooden sword is only twenty dollars," Rio pleaded.
"Only...twenty dollars? I can make you that sword for one dollar," I stated the obvious.

Well...after 4 months of planning, an 18 foot long table, 25 gold plates with lids, 25 goblets, 1 dragon pinata, 6 capes, 15 halos, 1 cake, 1 castle bounce house, 1 dragon bounce house, 20 medieval props, over 150 yards of fabric, and of course 24 wooden swords later... it all came to together.

 

The King and a few of his Royal Subjects

It was a party fit for a King!