The Wife Shops for Boots

Three nights in a row I’ve watched Julie shop on the internet for boots. She wants a pair of black, dressy leather boots, and I’m certain that she’ll buy the first pair that she showed me. But first she has to show me every other pair of boots on the internet. I’ve long since lost interest and I can’t even tell the difference between the boots when she explains the nuances, which she invariably does to some length. I ought to just log onto her computer and buy the first pair she looked at. The box would arrive on the doorstep in a few nights, no doubt as she leaned across the couch with her computer to show me yet another pair; and hopefully end the madness.
I once bought a gown for the Marine Corps Ball to end a similar aggravating episode. I was a young lieutenant and Julie needed a gown for the USMC ball. We were in Washington, D.C. at the time, so we drove our ’86 Aries wagon with puppy poop brown paint up to the Fair Oaks Mall and commenced walking through every department store. Our first port of call was J.C. Penney’s. Julie tried on a black sheath dress which knocked my eyes out. She looked incredible, and the dress was on clearance for $88. Naturally, she placed it back on the hanger with a shake of her head and continued to flip through the racks. I saw where this was going; a long day of traipsing through stores while she jumped in and out of gowns, never finding exactly what she wanted, always fretting over what might be in the next store, until finally panicking with the realization that the first gown was perfect and a dash back to J.C. Penney to learn that it was purchased three hours earlier by a woman somewhat less manic. So, I bought the gown while she was trying on a different dress and had the salesperson hide it behind the counter.
Countless hours and stores later, my wife suddenly decided that her life would be incomplete unless we were able to buy the black dress back at J.C. Penneys. A last mad dash across the mall ended with me triumphantly pulling the dress bag from behind the cash register and holding it up like a fresh kill and expecting rewards, both immediate and later, for my forethought.
My wife’s reaction was not positive. “You just played along all day when you had already bought the dress!” she accused and expecting rewards, both immediate and later, for my forethought.
My wife’s reaction was not positive. “You just played along all day when you had already bought the dress!” she accused. Umm, yeah, ‘cause I love you? The ride back to our apartment was quiet, but she’s worn the dress for 10 years. It still fits, she still looks sensational, and I’ve never been rewarded for my good conduct.
So, I’m going to order the stupid boots and end this misery.

IronKids Triathlon in St. Pete

My oldest daughter ran the IronKids Triathlon in St. Pete this year. She had a great time, but I'm not entirely sure that she realized that she was in a race. She was strong in the swim, partly because she spends entire afternoons splashing around in our pool, but mostly because she was excited to use her new pink goggles, which we purchased the day before. She probably passed 5-6 other kids during the one-lap swim portion of the triathlon.

Her transition to the bike leg of the race was less smooth. Being a concerned dad, I jogged over to her bike to make sure she didn't need help. Sydney was less than concerned about getting on her bike, but greatly concerned that her ponytail wasn't straight. After 5 minutes (and I'm not kidding; it was 5 minutes), she was finally satisfied with her appearance and pedaled out onto the bike course.

Ten mintues later, I was still waiting for her to return from the bike route. Most of the other kids in her group were already running, and children from the next group were starting to trickle into the transition area. Just as I began to worry that my little girl had crashed into a tree, or, more likely, ran across a dog she wanted to pet, I saw her cruise into the parking lot with a smile on her face. She wasn't in a great hurry, judging from her casual waves to the crowd.

While racking her bike, she noticed the finisher's snack table, and my spindly-legged daughter can move when treats are involved. She dashed through the run course, pausing only once to see how much distance she had put between herself and some boys she knew. Spotting the finish line, she dashed the final 100 yards and ran through a little, white winner's banner that a pair of volunteers held up before each child.

IronKids is a quality event; safe for kids and manned by kid-friendly volunteers. I would recommend it for any child who enjoys swimming, biking, and running around the neighborhood. The volunteers literally carried the day when things didn't go as planned. The picture above shows a set of volunteers holding up the transition banner when it deflated. They could have easily moved the banner to the side, but they chose to hold it until every child had passed beneath.

My only caution revolves around the parents. Whoever these people are who bound up and down the swimming pool bleachers and run amok through the transition area screaming for their child to "go faster" are; they need to relax or shut up. Frankly, I'd be fine if they would just shut up. It's hard to imagine that the joy their children are experiencing isn't being compromised by the corrections and "encouragement" that their parents are hurling at them. My guess is that the parents are more concerned with their own priorities of success and failure; or else they wouldn't be so excited about the performance of a 8-year old child.

My little girl is already talking about her next race, and my youngest needed the training wheels removed from her bike so that she could start training for next year. I can't wait to see them splash, pedal, and dash through the next IronKids Triathlon.