Pop a la Mode

I officially love whitewater rafting. That was the most fun I’ve had in a really, really, really long time.

The drive up to the Ocoee River was about three hours, just north of Chattanooga. We were afraid TS Fay was going to make the day blah but the sun was shining once we arrived.

I am happy to report that I did not once get thrown in the river. I did receive face-fulls of icy water but that I can handle. The key, I learned, is all about wedging yourself in the raft with your inside foot. The better wedged you are, the better balance and brace position you have.

Favorite part of the day, hands down, was Riding the Bull. I did not ride the bull but the concept is that you sit on the front of the raft and hang on to the rope while going through the rapids. Robyn decided to try it out and the first rapid knocked her backwards. The whole rest of that area Robyn is lying flat on her back, legs straight up in the air with water pounding on her and all of us laughing so hard we can’t help.

Of course that was the spot on the river where they take your photo. All our photos are of us laughing like hyenas and Robyn partially obscured by waves of water except for her feet. Even our guide was laughing. You just couldn’t help it.

It was a fantastic, and tiring, day. I will happily go again anytime.

I’m headed up to the Ocoee River near Chattanooga, TN this morning to try my hand at whitewater rafting. This is not something I have done before or ever felt the need to do. I’m going because Robyn asked and because misery loves company evidently.

I’ve been doing some research and we will be rafting the middle Ocoee which are level three and four rapids. Highest level is number six which if we were doing those I’m smart enough not to go.

So say a little prayer and hopefully I’ll report back with fun stories.

I don’t usually have trouble staying asleep at night. Especially when my days are as busy as the past two days have been, I usually sleep rather well.

But not right now. I keep waking up and can’t sleep. I can’t get comfortable and I end up turning on the TV. And what do you know? I’m watching the Olympics on one of the seemingly endless channels that is carrying an event. Like right now, 12:26 AM on Thursday and there is a fierce badminton game going on between China and Germany. That poor little birdie. They play nothing like we used to in the backyard.

One night I watched swimmer Michael Phelps get his assumedly 100th gold medal or something like that. I don’t know - the way they talked about it you would have thought he would have been more excited.

So maybe NBC and the Chinese have cooked up some sort of brain-washing scheme that means I can’t stop watching it. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were hidden messages in that scarily-accurate Opening Ceremonies. As impressive as it was, I walked away actually thinking there is no way I would want to engage in a war with this country. They are entirely too perfect.

Please make note - Saturday, August 9 was a perfect summer day. Hot enough to go the pool, a breeze blowing to keep you cool, no cloud in the sky and no humidity in the air. Ahhhh. It was lovely.

The hardest work I did today was work on my tan and other than that I watched the opening ceremonies of the Olympics. I tivo’ed it because first I wasn’t home when it started and second, I knew I would be too sleepy to watch it until the end. If you didn’t see them, it was pretty amazing. I’d hate to be the country to follow that show. If you missed any of it, you can go to NBC’s special site here and watch the highlights.

It also led to a discussion between myself and D. about random Olympic events. Like table tennis. And hand ball. From what I’ve seen about hand ball, it’s very similar to that American Gladiator game where you have to put balls in to the cylinders after fighting through the gauntlet of gladiators. Maybe I’ll learn some more about obscure sports for which a medal is presented during these next two weeks.

And unless laziness becomes an Olympic event, I can accurately predict there is no chance of me medaling in anything.

I was watching Sunday Night Baseball tonight and it was announced that Skip Caray died in his sleep this afternoon at his home. He had been the Braves play-by-play announcer for over 30 years.

Losing Skip feels like losing a member of the family. His voice always reminded me of summertime in Virginia. If it was April through September, my family was watching the Braves. Even when they were horrible, we watched. And Skip was right there through it all. The one constant through player trades, less than stellar seasons and come from behind wins.

I thought it was so awesome that his dad was Harry Caray because my second favorite team was the Cubs. I always wondered if he had any choice about going in to broadcasting or if he and his dad ever worked together and how fun his childhood must have been. He grew up at Wrigley Field. How cool.

But mostly I loved the way Skip called a game. He was a Braves fan through and through. You could hear the frustration in his voice when they lost and the triumph when they won. I can still remember in the early 90s the childlike excitement in his voice when he called “Braves Win! Braves Win!” when after more than two decades of losing, they were headed to the World Series.

To this day I hate watching the Braves on any station that isn’t SportSouth or Fox Sports because I want my play-by-play announcers to be rooting for my team.

My best Skip memory is from a game at least four or five years ago. It was the bottom of the ninth, Braves were losing and on the last out, a man sitting behind home plate pulled down his pants and mooned the camera. On national television. I remember sitting in bed and thinking, is he really doing what I think he’s doing? The game ends and goes to commercial but when the post-game show came back, the next thing I hear is Skip saying, “Well, a full moon shone on the Bravos tonight.”

I died laughing because I knew it was his way of acknowledging the act without saying one word about it. And if you hadn’t seen the act, you would just think he was commenting about the evening. I loved his humor and I loved being in on his jokes.

So here’s to Skip and the many hours of enjoyment he brought me and my family. He will be missed.

I want to preface this post by saying I love the Atlanta Braves. Always have, always will. I watched them when they stunk way back in the 80s. I remember Papa used to make me and D. chocolate milkshakes and popcorn and we would sit in the beanbag and cheer on Dale Murphy. Of course this was pre-open heart surgery for Papa. No more milkshakes and popcorn after that.

We celebrated in the early 90s when amazingly they started winning. Who knew? I watched Sid Bream slide in for the game-winning run; I listened to Skip Carey yelling at the top of his lungs, “Braves Win! Braves Win!”

I’ve been with them through thick and thin.

But this season, they are really pushing my patience. They are either really, really hot or really, really not. There is no consistency in the way they play and no enthusiasm in their game. Look at the dugout during the next game - you would think they’re at a funeral.

So come on Bravos, I know you have it in you. Make some magic.