Endings

I am not good with endings. Doesn't even really matter what kind of ending it is, I'm not good with them. With today being the last day of school, the ending of my time at my current school, and the fifth grade graduation ceremony I was confident this morning that I was prepared to handle this ending.

Thinking back on a few momentous endings, I have more than proof that I don't handle them well. The one ending that I handled with the least amount of strength and grace was when my college basketball career came to an end. It took up an enormous amount of time. It was the thing I was most dedicated to. Then, one day, with a loss to the University of Rochester, it all ended.

I didn't throw a fit. I didn't complain that we should have won the game but didn't. I didn't make excuses. I was just simply heart broken. So heart broken that besides spending every waking hour in the gym trying to fill the void, every should be sleeping hour, I spent sobbing to myself. Needless to say I did not handle it well. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, I couldn't do anything except wish it were a dream.

Today, my last day at school, I thought I would handle well. I certainly had enough time to adjust to the idea. The fifth grade graduation ceremony went smoothly. My speech knocked socks off and the kids were bustling with excitement as they each crossed the stage. It was a happy occasion. It is just that the occasion ended at 11:30 and then we had a luncheon and to pack our classrooms up for the remainder of the day.

The afternoon dragged on and gave me time to dwell on the fact that I would not be back. People were constantly stopping in to say goodbye and give me hugs. Awkward goodbyes are the worst and they all started to pile up on me. I cannot wait to be in Cleveland, but I do wish I could bring my school with me. I like it there.

June 24th, the title of my blog is tomorrow. Due to commitments and the such, I will not actually be moving out until Sunday, June 27th. I am looking forward to Sunday, but not necessarily all the crap I have to get done before then!

Last Day of School

Time in New York is coming to a close. It is very evident in the fact that tomorrow is the last day of school. Which for my class, fifth graders, is fifth grade graduation. A big day.

As a procrastinator, I just finished my speech about an hour ago. Not a good idea for a well below average public speaker. But, I think it is fairly good. I am planning on paying a few people in the audience so I am sure to get some laughter.

With that, the fact that I have about 30 thank you cards left to write, and that I stayed up late last night making copies of a special end of the year video, I need some sleep!

If I can figure out how to get the video posted on here, I will. It is good, but I don't think it lives up to last year's video. Jeff was not here to help with it. He always raises the quality of things.

K

With school coming to a close and my move to Cleveland only a few days away, I have been extremely busy lately. Since the beginning of May, a friend of ours, Mike, has said he was going to call me when his co-ed softball team had games so that I could play with them. They have a slight shortage of women. Each week I wait for Mike's text telling me he needs me to play, and each week I am faced with disappointment!

Until, of course, the busiest week of my life. Game, 6 o'clock tonight. Being a person who can never turn down a good game of anything, I decided I needed to fit it into my busy schedule. Ok, so there is no real schedule, just things that need to get done with deadlines. So, I put them off for the softball game with Mike and his District Attorney's office team. 

Yes, a smart team. No, not an athletic team. Oh well, all is fun, even when you lose by the ten run rule. 

When we arrived the team was on the field ready to start the first inning. We were late due to Mike's chronic tardiness. Mike's hitting and fielding prowess was well known before he even stepped foot on the field. It was laid out there nice and clear when the player-manager announced, "Mike, you are batting 10th as the DH." 

Mike and I threw the ball on the side of the field to warm up quickly. While doing so a man on the other team struck out. I laughed thinking that was rather silly. It isn't slow pitch softball, but they aren't throwing rockets at you. I said aloud, "I didn't know it was possible to strike out in these games." 

My first at bat made me eat my words! Not having seen a thrown pitch in quite some time, I let the first strike go by me. I just wanted to see it. Next pitch I swung hard and made contact. It bounced straight down off the ground, foul. Boy, I still had that full swing bunting power I did back in my high school softball days. 

I noticed the pitcher wasn't throwing it as hard as he had to the man before me. That pissed me off. Pissed me off so much that I decided I was going to line this next pitch right up the middle. The pitch game and I swung with all I had. However I forgot the first basic rule of batting, keep your eye on the ball. With that, I whiffed majorly, striking out. Doing exactly what I did not know was possible. 

Oh well, I guess I kind of made up for it later with my RBI single that extended the game one inning further because it cut the opposing team's ten run lead to nine. I was asked to come back and play next week, but sorry, I will be in Cleveland. With Jeff! 

Taking the Bridge

Happy Father's day! Happy father's day to all the fathers, grandfathers, and god-fathers. I really only know of one that actually reads my blog, but happy father's day nonetheless. With fathers day upon us, we had a little dinner up at my parents house. I say little because it was just us, my father, mother, brother, and grandma.

Days like this make me wish more than anything that Jeff was around. As my father gets my grandma going and my mother begs for him to stop, I long for Jeff to keep me sane. Plus, while my father gets her going in a negative direction, throwing out expletives and all, Jeff gets her going in a goofy direction. A direction that is always good for a laugh or two. He keeps it cheery. He has that way about him.

But, since the reality is that Jeff was not here, the cheeriness lacked at times. After throwing out expletives over her neighbors, her sisters, her doctors, and people that drive on the roads, she later claimed that she never curses using the f word. Never does she drop the f-bomb.

Well, I did what any respectful granddaughter would do and called her out on it. I let her know that I could count a number of times in recent memory that she has dropped the f-bomb. No way, she continued to deny it. It's so vulgar and classless. She is not her sister, who uses the word all the time. Right! Okay.

Her defense continued with her admitting what she says in place of the f word:
"I don't say F. Instead I say 'son of a b*tch, b@st@rd."

Much better right? According to her, yes. According to her it is a very acceptable thing to say. It is much more classy than swearing. Funny, I was pretty sure that both b*tch and b@st@rd were swear words. But who I am to question the class of my grandmother?

Now, do you see why I need Jeff around? Even better, do you see why I am so excited to head to Cleveland in a week? My grandmother's youngest sister (83 years old) often tells her to "take the bridge" when she is complaining about things. If Jeff wasn't a mere week away I would have gladly taken the bridge today!

Tapanga

I ran a race this morning. A race I have run the past two years. A race I have traditionally done well in. With that, I had high hopes. Besides the high hopes, I was putting a lot of pressure on myself because some parents and teachers from my school were running. I had to beat them; beat them all!

I did. I beat every last one of them. I had a personal best time at the race, 20:35. I placed second overall for women and first in my age group. After the race, as I spread the word of my success to Jeff and my father, I was asked some diminishing questions. Was the course really 3.1 miles? Do you think the time was accurate? Did they use timing chips? Was the course completely downhill? What crap is that? I ran hard and got a good time. Yes it was 3.1 miles, the timing was accurate, and we had to climb a pretty significant hill. And still, I finished in 20:35.

As I walked back to my car after the race, I was walking down a very busy road. I noticed a little dog roaming on and off the sidewalk, getting dangerously close to traffic. Much too close for my liking. As I scanned the street, there was not a soul in sight. Knowing what I would want someone to do if they saw Shea wondering by himself near a busy street, I went over and grabbed the dog. No collar, no tags, no anything. I asked the first person I knew if they lived in the area and recognized the dog. No go. He suggested bringing the dog to the police station which was just around the corner. I took his advice.

The police proceeded to tell me that they could be of no assistance. Wow, shocker! This particular police department is actually in the news more for committing crimes than actually preventing them. Why should they help me do something that would help anybody or anything?

I decided that I needed to bring the dog to the animal shelter. That is probably where the owners would look for this little girl. So, over to the animal shelter we went. On the way I took her picture and sent it to Jeff, his brother, Jon, and my brother, Nick. I asked if anyone wanted her before I gave her to the shelter.

Nick responded with a yes. He wanted her to come up to the house. He wanted to see her and see if she would be good for his first dog. Jon, who already has my nephew puppy, Diggy, has wanted to get Dig a playmate, preferably a female. A big Boy Meets World Fan, Jon wants to name his female dog Tapanga. So, Jon's reply was simply TAPANGA! Jeff's was quite different. He was flustered that I let a random dog in the car. However, he agrees, after a week in stray hold, if Tapanga is not claimed by her owners, we will adopt her. Someone, whether it is Nick, Jon, or Jeff and I, will take Tapanga.

Getting Close!

My time in NY is winding down and I couldn't be more excited! Jeff loved being a New Yorker. I must say, I think it's quite nice. New York seems like an important state. Currently an important state in shambles, but still, an important state!

Jeff had reservations about not being a New Yorker anymore. Me, I'm ready to get out of here. Not because I dislike the state by any means, but because I need to be with Jeff. Plus, Cleveland has certainly grown on Jeff. It is a great place to be, especially together!

I think of large steps in my life that I have taken. Most of them involve extreme excitement but some sense of loss or sadness. Graduating high school. I was glad it was over and to be moving on, but I cried like a baby at what I was losing. I wasn't going to see the people I grew up with everyday, I wasn't going to be able to play sports donning the school's green and white, I wasn't going to be able to eat Carol the Lunch Lady's delicious chocolate chip cookies anymore. All losses large enough to make me sad. Then there as going to college. What greater joy in all that lie ahead? But there was sadness in moving away from my parents, not living under their roof, not knowing anybody, and having to sh*# in a shared bathroom.

Our wedding is the only time I can think that I had pure joy stepping into a new experience, without any sense of sadness, loss, or nervousness. I whole heartedly knew it was the right thing to do and my life would be better because of it. And, it has been!

Now, moving to Cleveland, I know the same is true. However, I still feel like I should have some sense of sadness about moving away from New York. Some sadness about leaving everything I know. But, I don't. I don't because Jeff is there. So is the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, BD's Mongolian Grill, and Lebron James, for now anyways, but they only sweeten the deal!

A Rocket Up the Middle

Kickball. Kickball all day long. In celebration of the end of the year, we had a giant kickball tournament at school today for the 4th and 5th graders. This is always a great day, and on this specific day, a few of the teachers decided to play.

Me, never being one to turn down a good game of any kind, laced em up. I was excited to play. My class, being fairly athletic this year, I felt had a chance to sweep the tournament. Unlike last year when my two teams won a combined zero games. In fact, my class is so athletic this year, I felt that we would finish with the complete opposite record. I certainly didn't think they needed me, but I could just tell they wanted me to play. They had it written all over their little faces. So, I stepped into the action, as some of the other teachers did.

Since I was not originally in the batting order, I was tacked onto the end. We got through two innings before it was my turn to kick. I had spoken to some of the parents who were umpiring the games if I should really kick the ball or just kinda tap it. They told me bunting was illegal and if I was going to play, I needed to play hard. There were a number of reasons for their answer, ranging from the other teachers were kicking hard and if the kids get me out I will never hear the end of it. This was true. At bat, my former student from last year, Jay, was pitching. As the ball rolled up to me, I kicked it fairly hard. Hard enough that it was a line drive rocket off of my foot. A line drive rocket that was heading straight up the middle. A line drive rocket heading straight up the middle that bounced directly off Jay's face. Uh oh! Yes, Jay's cute little 10-year old face, hit with my rocket of a line drive. 

Jay didn't drop to the ground. He simply covered his face with is hands and started crying. I ran out to him, apologizing, basically crying harder than him. We walked inside to get an ice pack from the nurse. As we were walking, I asked Jay if he thought he would get a black eye. He said he thought his whole face would be black and blue because the ball hit him in the whole face. Oh, the poor baby. I couldn't believe this happened! 

Once the pain had subsided a bit, Jay became his humorous self. I told him if he had behaved better last year I wouldn't have had to kick the ball at his face. He agreed, laughing. I was so relieved to see him laughing! As we walked back to our game, he proceeded to tell everyone we passed that I had kicked him in the face. Little Jay sat out the rest of the current game, but resumed action the next game. By the end of the tournament he was fine, just had a little redness to his face.

Me, I am not over it yet. I still feel horrible. But, not too horrible to blame the whole thing on the parents who told me I should kick the ball hard. In the end, as weird as it sounds, I was glad the kid I did hit was a former student and not some random fifth grader. I am interested to see if Jay has any bruising tomorrow. Hopefully my kick is not that powerful!