Thursday, October 7, 2010

I declare a time out

Let me set the stage for you.

We're in the middle of a volleyball game. In what is supposed to be a noncompetitive city league. Our team, made up of some of my favorite coworkers, is losing miserably. Our "noncompetitive" opponents, with their "bump set spikes" and their "overhand serves" and their excellent "coordination" are chewing up all our fun and slamming it in our faces. Fun? There will be no fun.

So I deal with it the only way I know how.

TIIIIIIIIIME OOOOOOOUUUUUUUT!

I'm screaming it. Waving my arms frantically in the air. Spinning a little.

The ref was confused and probably a little concerned, but it didn't work. He motions for the other team to continue with their serve. Meanwhile, our team has completely lost it. I'm laughing myself dizzy and can barely take another breath when Jenny finally signals to the ref (that's all it takes) and he calls a time out.

It was a little like this.



Anyway, now that we're only a week away from packing up the truck, I'm wishing I could call a timeout on life for a bit. Just to slow things down. Pull a Blossom or a Zack or any other early 90's TV show character who could freeze everyone else in place for a few minutes. Cause I like where I'm at and I like where I'm going, but it'd be nice to have a minute to enjoy the in between.



2 comments:

Sarah said...

I am sad. Yeah, that's right Lisa. I'm just downright blue. Why. Why?! Why have I not read your blog for a while? I don't honestly know how long "a while" is, but too long. Your blogs are happy-makers and make me laugh oh-so-much. You should know that I am feeling a little bit of anxiety right now wondering if I'm writing everything correctly since you are a writing pert (it should be pert not expert bc expert sounds like you used to be something, like a pert, an ex-pert, but you still are this, therefore you are a pert=== why Sarah did not study written language and does not know what she's talking about). I LOVE this post and can totally relate. I played some stake v-ball and the girls were INTENSE. Jumping up and spiking, showing off their ability to actually "serve overhand", or to "set the ball". So ridic-u-lous. Needless to say, I never went back again. They say: "it's just for fun, we don't care if we win". Yeah right you crazy kung fu ninja v-ball spikers. You frighten me. And little children. I don't, which makes me better in some way. Sure, I can't play volleyball, but at least little kids will approach me. And grown women; because I won't jump up in their faces and murderously slam a ball down on them with the shere force of the palm of my little woman hand.

lisa said...

sari! Oh I miss you. Talk about happy-makers? your comments are hilarious :)