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Sunday, June 5, 2011

Games

*** Disclaimer:  My blog is still broken.  I'm sorry (for me, really) that you can't leave a comment or click on individual posts.  I've brought in professionals to fix this problem, so by the end of next week, I'll be good as new!  Until then, feel free to stop by my Facebook or Twitter pages to let me know you haven't given up on me.  I'm crippled.  And throwing a temper tantrum over these technical handicaps.  Give a girl a break.
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This week's You Capture Challenge is Games.  I've got A LOT of opportunity to shoot at sporting events.  Did I sound excited?  

Dear Future FSU Fan:

I know you have not yet been born.  You have not yet inhaled the humid Tallahassee air.  You have not put your toes in the sandy Tallahassee soil.  Most likely you have yet to be conceived in our Tallahassee bedroom (thanks a lot Clomid), so it's a long shot to assume you will be able to read this.  So, today I'm going to write to the idea of you.  

I don't know anything about you.  I don't know your gender.  I don't care.  I don't know what you will look like.  I don't care.  I don't know your race, your sound, your smell, your preference in vegetables, or your aptitude for sports or school or the arts.  I don't care about any of those things.  I want you to be who you want to be.  I want you to love who you want to love.  I want you to study what interests you.  I want you to be an extrovert.  Or not.  I want you to be you.  

I'm unconditional.  I promise.

You got that, right?

But in the spirit of the idea of you, I'd like to make two, teensy, tiny, baby requests.  That's not too much to ask, right?  I know I said I want you to be you, but you've got to know the struggle we went through to have you....   I mean, you owe us SOMETHING.  Selfish.  And honestly, before you go being all defensive, just hear me out.  My requests are small.  Stop being so dramatic!  Jesus.  You really are my child.

Okay, request number one:  Please, please, PLEASE experiment with food.  Be open minded.  Try everything at least once.  Teach your tongue to appreciate new and unfamiliar foods.  Don't just order the chicken strips.  I would never marry a chicken strips guy.  I judge chicken strips people.  Don't make me judge you.  I'm not above it.

See?  That wasn't so bad!

Request number two:  Please, please, PLEASE love baseball.  And more specifically, please love Florida State baseball.  Your dad needs it.  I'm a failure in this department, and your dad is too good to us to have to love it alone.  I've spent four seasons watching the children of other season ticket holders grow up.  Some of those kids (myself included) go to the games for the Dippin' Dots and the frozen lemonade.  Some of those kids go for the actual game.  As long as you go to the games with him, I'm satisfied, but it would be extra special if you went because you loved it - just like him.

That's it.  Those are my requests.  I hope you are listening.  If you are like your father, you heard every word I just said.  If you are like me, you were thinking about The Real Housewives.

Please be like your dad.

I already love you,

The Woman Who Will Change Most Of Your Diapers


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