The Ender's Game

I am proud to say my dad was more than a dreamer.  He was also a very avid reader and writer. One of his biggest dreams was publication of one of his stories.
When I was a little girl, my dad and I had a bedtime routine. My favorite part was the stories.  Often he made them up on the spot, but other times he recycled material from his favorite books.  Tarzan and the Little People were fond favorites. I used to close my eyes and imagine my hands swinging through the vines with my dad.
Among those stories was Orson Scott Card's sci-fi tale, Ender's Game. He dumbed it down for my much younger, innocent mind; but I remember my attentive captivation in the story about a genius boy and his battles both external and internal.
Today I  watched the teaser-trailer and everything came back. This movie is perfect for my dad. It looks fun and includes one of my dad's favorite action heroes, Harrison Ford.  This movie occasion is something my dad would never miss.  He didn't see a lot of movies in theaters, but this would be an exception to his frugality.  I know I'll see it without him and that hurts my heart a lot.  I'll probably cry through the whole movie like a baby. I still cry once a week, usually driving, about him.  I still miss my dad. 


Coach kid

I'm not a very good blogger and funny stories don't happen to me like they used to. I have a few recent good stories that might warrant a chuckle or two.
I've started training for a half marathon. Once a week I try to work on my "speed".  Last week I took Cameron up to my old stomping grounds at the high school track for some speed and circuit training. The speed portions was only four sets of one loop and 50 squats between runs.
One loop around the track is pretty short, so I took advantage of the runs, speeding through the loops as fast as the stroller would let me (it gets wobbly and off balance if you run too fast).  Anyway, Cami totally loves going fast. I could see her cute, chubby little feet twirling in circles as I ran the loop.
As soon as I stopped for my squats; it was game over.  She is the meanest running coach I've ever head. She errupted in hysterical, angry screams until I started running with her again.  Her extreme methods were effective, but still made my running fueled with irritation instead of the soft buzz of runner's high. 
My daughter has a future in sports coaching.