Datebook: Saturday, August 12th
Okay, so I have to send Michelle W a HUGE bouquet of roses.
I should anyway just because she takes such great photos. Photography is truly an art form that goes way beyond what I am capable of creating with my automatic Canon. I mean, I hope to get people smiling and with most of their eyes open, but for the most part it typically looks like one member of the party suffers from narcolepsy.
No, the reason I must send Michelle flowers -- she gave me the best compliment that any person could give to the mother of a young girl-woman. She compared my writing ability with Charlie White’s skating ability. Take out all of those extra words like we did when we were eleven to discover our future true love, and it ends with me and Charlie White. Okay, not in a Demi Moore/Ashton Kutcher sort of way, but in a “your mom is as cool as Charlie White” sort of way.
Mega points for the mom.
Even when subtracting, “You’re not wearing those pants to the rink are you?”
(Someone needs to explain to the youth of today that there are no “new” styles. There are only recycled styles. The capris of today were the pedal pushers of yesterday and yes, I am wearing those pants to the rink!).
My daughter has a major crush on Charlie White who, by all counts of the female skating population, pushes the Hottie meter past the limits of finite measuring. This is, of course, fine by me as he lives 1500 miles away, she sees him twice a year, and she is too struck with situational shyness to ever have an actual uninhibited conversation with him.
This is a surprising fact to her friends who never find her at loss of words in any other situation--in fact, Michael Chertoff could use a little of her diplomatic honesty.
(This is particularly surprising to her own partner, who seems to have major Hottie rankings also, although, like most partnerships, that is a “no go” because they are “too close”. Other top of the scale Hotties FYI- Keiffer, Evan, John, Travis, Taylor).
I mean, no offense to the judges’ critiques, but the only thing that stands out to her is that:
“Charlie White said “great job’ to me”.
“Did he see you put your foot down on that twizzle?”
“He said, “Great Job”.
“What did the judges say?”
“They said we basically did a good job and some other stuff.”
“Did they give you some suggestions for improvement?”
“Umm. I guess so. But did I tell you, Charlie White said “Great Job”.”
Okay.
Thank you Charlie White.
With this in mind, I will confess, I was one of the 487 mothers on their balconies watching that photo shoot on the sandy beach.
I mean, Michelle, we didn’t know it was going to happen, we just looked out our window and there you were.
It was almost like a unicorn sighting.
It was like getting tickets to the Oprah show and finding out it was her Favorite Things day!
And then you asked him to unbutton his shirt.
I don’t want you to think we were a horde of lecherous woman. But, we instantly knew we had the Golden Ticket. A photo of Charlie sans shirt is priceless in the “making points with your daughter” samba—we are so often in negative numbers.
So Michelle, I am admitting, I snapped a few photos. Covertly of course.
But, unfortunately, with my lack of fine photography skills, and the automatic focus, the shot centers on the balcony railing and Charlie is just a blur in the distance.
So, if you would care to send one of those 5 by 7s my way, just for comparison purposes only of course, I would probably be in the black for several months. Maybe into the New Year. We are talking major points here!
Or, maybe you could just post one for all.
You know, for the good of the cause and all of that.
Mombo #9
I should anyway just because she takes such great photos. Photography is truly an art form that goes way beyond what I am capable of creating with my automatic Canon. I mean, I hope to get people smiling and with most of their eyes open, but for the most part it typically looks like one member of the party suffers from narcolepsy.
No, the reason I must send Michelle flowers -- she gave me the best compliment that any person could give to the mother of a young girl-woman. She compared my writing ability with Charlie White’s skating ability. Take out all of those extra words like we did when we were eleven to discover our future true love, and it ends with me and Charlie White. Okay, not in a Demi Moore/Ashton Kutcher sort of way, but in a “your mom is as cool as Charlie White” sort of way.
Mega points for the mom.
Even when subtracting, “You’re not wearing those pants to the rink are you?”
(Someone needs to explain to the youth of today that there are no “new” styles. There are only recycled styles. The capris of today were the pedal pushers of yesterday and yes, I am wearing those pants to the rink!).
My daughter has a major crush on Charlie White who, by all counts of the female skating population, pushes the Hottie meter past the limits of finite measuring. This is, of course, fine by me as he lives 1500 miles away, she sees him twice a year, and she is too struck with situational shyness to ever have an actual uninhibited conversation with him.
This is a surprising fact to her friends who never find her at loss of words in any other situation--in fact, Michael Chertoff could use a little of her diplomatic honesty.
(This is particularly surprising to her own partner, who seems to have major Hottie rankings also, although, like most partnerships, that is a “no go” because they are “too close”. Other top of the scale Hotties FYI- Keiffer, Evan, John, Travis, Taylor).
I mean, no offense to the judges’ critiques, but the only thing that stands out to her is that:
“Charlie White said “great job’ to me”.
“Did he see you put your foot down on that twizzle?”
“He said, “Great Job”.
“What did the judges say?”
“They said we basically did a good job and some other stuff.”
“Did they give you some suggestions for improvement?”
“Umm. I guess so. But did I tell you, Charlie White said “Great Job”.”
Okay.
Thank you Charlie White.
With this in mind, I will confess, I was one of the 487 mothers on their balconies watching that photo shoot on the sandy beach.
I mean, Michelle, we didn’t know it was going to happen, we just looked out our window and there you were.
It was almost like a unicorn sighting.
It was like getting tickets to the Oprah show and finding out it was her Favorite Things day!
And then you asked him to unbutton his shirt.
I don’t want you to think we were a horde of lecherous woman. But, we instantly knew we had the Golden Ticket. A photo of Charlie sans shirt is priceless in the “making points with your daughter” samba—we are so often in negative numbers.
So Michelle, I am admitting, I snapped a few photos. Covertly of course.But, unfortunately, with my lack of fine photography skills, and the automatic focus, the shot centers on the balcony railing and Charlie is just a blur in the distance.
So, if you would care to send one of those 5 by 7s my way, just for comparison purposes only of course, I would probably be in the black for several months. Maybe into the New Year. We are talking major points here!
Or, maybe you could just post one for all.
You know, for the good of the cause and all of that.
Mombo #9
posted by ice-dance.com @ 4:08 PM
1 Comments:
You are fantastic.. I find your blog nearly as entertaining as the Grey's Anatomy Writer's blog... and for me that's as close as I come to 'your writing is like Charlie White's twizzles' compliment... You are just brilliant. Please don't stop writing this! I will go through major withdrawal if I can't read the pre-sectionals build-up drama!
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