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So E and I are watching The Godfather last night and you know the opening scene (and if you don’t, you should), well, I pause and tell her that should anyone ever harm her, she need not fear: Mama and Daddy will avenge. Her response: “Good.” With a smile.

That’s my girl.

I didn’t realize how powerful the protective instinct still is until the other night at E’s party (25 year-old females under one roof) when her best friend teasingly tossed an empty plastic Coke bottle at E. It made contact with her brow and it immediately began to swell. Though I know A (E’s best friend) and really like her, I could feel the pull, the desire to give her the steely greens and ask her what she was thinking. Of course A didn’t intend to hurt her friend; of course it was all in fun; of course she immediately felt bad about E’s swelling eye. I knew this, and tempered my immediate and natural desire. I did say, “Hey! That’s my baby girl. Be careful!” With a smile. And then I retrieved ice in a baggie and sent E out the door to the late show with her girlfriends.

Spade

I don’t know that I will ever tire of watching my girls move through time and space, but even more ornamental is their passage through water. The first meet of the summer was today. A swam a 50 meter Fly in 39.68. After placing first in each of her events, and washing away the chlorine, we went to eat a local place. The owner made his way through the small crowd, stopping to say hello and exchange pleasantries. He sat about fifteen feet away from us and began a casual conversation with a man with whom he was obviously more acquainted. I heard the man say, “Is that her?” and nod toward a bright, brown-eyed young woman waving goodbye. The owner answered with a nod. “She’ll break hearts.” I couldn’t help myself from eavesdropping and adding my own thought. “I hope she breaks minds, too. Pretty is good; smart is better.” The man asked the owner if he knew me. The owner again gave his taciturn response. “She’s opinionated, isn’t she?” I knew I had intruded in a casual conversation, so I wasn’t offended. Perhaps the man thought my commentary was about him. Maybe it was. I always cringe when men evaluate women to be “heart-breakers.” I thought about it on the way home. Why does it bother me? Why do I not like the sum of the infinite parts of a human being succinctly summarized and their value measured by the causing of pain? I know that the same things are said about boys (please refresh my memory). I know that we are human beings and that physical attraction is important. I think what I don’t like is the freedom by which that man (and all that he seemed to represent to me, which is a whole different blog) judged a girl, a woman. Of course he couldn’t know that she wants to go to design school, that she is already published in a few small college literary journals, that she loves Duncan Sheik, that she has only ever kissed a boy once on a hot summer morning by the library. None of this matters because her value is her body, her face, her ability to “break hearts.” The ability to break is always more highly valued over the broken.

Sanctuary time.

Hubster traded with someone his Saturday off and was SUPPOSED TO have this past Tuesday off. But due to teh weather and someone too quick on the draw, cancelled his day off Tuesday. He’s been into double OT since about 10 this morning. What maroons.

Brother Dear also worked then I believe has skipped over to his friend’s house with the bigger-than-ours-TV. Sheesh. What is he 10?!

So I treated myself to a chick flick (Helen) - which has yummy John Corbett (formerly Adian on SaTC…). Enjoyable - about 8 of us chicks in the whole theater. And then shopping.

Give me a break. I had a coupon. And I used it.