A Side of Rice

Hopefully Humorous (and sometimes R-rated) Musings About Life


Our Last Supper

I’ve been hobbling around on my foot for a year and a half, which I thought was just a twisted ankle taking too long to heal. PSYCH! It was really a partial rupture to my Achilles that after every conservative therapy possible, required surgery on May 31 to repair/rebuild. And removal of the bone spur jutting out of my heel. Go big or go home, right, bitches?

I learned a number of things during my post-surgical recovery:

  • the anesthesia you can get will be so good, you’ll have no idea who dressed you after surgery, how you got into the car after surgery, and whether or not you were wearing a bra the first few days after surgery
  • when entering your house after surgery via the practical (for the temporarily one-legged) but not very graceful method of butt scooting, refrain from placing your hands on the metal door frame on a hot, Summer day
  • if you must enter your house butt-scooting and placing your hands on the metal door frame plate on a hot, Summer day, be sure to do it when there is plenty of anesthesia still coursing through your body so that you barely feel the burn
  • Christian Louboutin is missing out on huge bank by not catering to the post-surgical marketJokes2
  • just because you’ve had surgery, doesn’t mean you can’t play “who wore it better?”


  • dogs make the best nursing assistants
  • never start taking pain killers if you don’t also take stool softener
  • the maximum number of days one can go without a shower before smelling oneself is no longer than 3 days — tops!
  • there will always be some entrepreneur that will make you feel guilty about recovery, and shame your (literally) lame ass to get off of itiwalk05
  • your knee scooter makes an excellent margarita caddy, after a long day of sitting around a baseball field watching your kid playIMG_0442
  • when your friends extend kindness – accept it

Because I was going to be fairly immobile — and not able to use my left foot at all — for 6 weeks, my friend Rebecca set up a Meal Train for me. She invited friends from many of the sports families in our community to participate. I protested this and Rebecca replied with “just shut it and let people do something nice for you for a change.”

So I shut it. The kindness started the evening of my surgery, with a delivery of fried chicken, mac ‘n cheese, and probably some other yummy stuff that I can’t remember now. I barely recall my friend Michelle bringing it by, but I’m pretty sure I gave her a hug from my horizontal location on the couch. Sorry, Michelle, if I was braless…I can’t seem to remember if I was wearing one after surgery.

There were kind gestures and messages…

General June 4General June 16General June 20General June 21General June 22General June 22_2General June 24General June 24_2June 30

There were also special deliveries…

General June 3

General June 8

We were well fed 31 days – everything from full meals to gift cards for local restaurants:

June 1June 2June 3June 4June 5June 6June 7June 8June 9June 10June 11June 12June 14June 15June 17June 17_2June 19June 21June 22June 22_2June 23June 26June 28June 29July 1July 2July 3

On July 3, the final delivery from the Meal Train arrived.  One of my friends replied to a post with this:


What a fabulous reminder of the kindness, compassion and community outreach that was exemplified by our last supper. All our suppers, really.

#LifeIsGood  #WalkersvillePeepsRock



What Are the Odds?

My oldest son Alex plays the trifecta of sports in our area — baseball, football, and basketball (no offense lacrosse, soccer, and hockey lovers). We are currently in the basketball season.

His younger brother Nick is not playing basketball this year, due to this:

Really mom? Another picture of me in my cast?

Really mom? Another picture of me in my cast?

Nick is — however — an engaged fan for his brother’s basketball team. Engaged in playing games on my husband’s iPhone, while ignoring his brother’s basketball games. He pauses only to mention he’s hungry and to inquire as to whether or not he can get a bag of Doritos and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups from the concession table. “Sure,” I respond. “Sounds like a well-balanced dinner to me.”

This year, Alex tried out for and made the Mid-Maryland basketball travel team. He is one of four 6th graders to make the team, along with ten 7th graders. It’s a step up from the basketball we’ve been used to, because:

  • They charge an admission fee to get into the games (these are middle schoolers, people)
  • We have concession/front gate duty for at least one game (I thought I had a reprieve for the basketball season from that little slice of hell that is concession duty)
  • Alex has to wear dress pants, dress shirt, dress shoes, and tie for each away game — which means we had to go purchase dress pants, a dress shirt, and dress shoes — he borrows a tie from his dad. (we would have bought him a tie, but we need the cash for the game admission fees)

I took a photo of my 11 year old dressed for his first away game. And all I could think was “when did 11 start looking so grown up?”.

He gets his good looks from his dad -- and his smarts from his mom

He gets his good looks and fashion sense from his dad; his smarts and ability to throw snarky comments around from his mom

His first away game was against a team that my college roommate’s son plays on. Kathy and I met during my sophomore year at Towson.  I had never heard of her farm community hometown, Walkersville, MD and she had never heard of my rinky-dink hometown Leonardtown, MD.

Kathy married her high school sweetheart — who was an amazing athlete for their hometown Walkersville High School football and basketball teams.  After college, Kathy and her husband settled in near the Walkersville area and I stayed in Baltimore, where we had attended college.

Through the years, we have stayed in touch. She and her family eventually moved about 20 minutes from Walkersville. My husband and I — after stints in more suburban areas — now live in the area where she and her husband grew up and went to school.

In 2002, we both had sons — born just one day apart in February.  This is them the Summer after they were born — Alex on the left; Kendall is on the right:

Alex and Kendall

Alex and Kendall

Last year, Alex and Kendall played in the same basketball league. In two games where their teams met on the court, they played man-to-man defense against one another. I snapped a few pictures of them during the games:

This year, Kendall and Alex weren’t playing man-to-man against each other, but I got the opportunity to take a photo of the two of them during a foul shot:

This time Kendall's on left and Alex is on the right.

2013: Kendall and Alex on the hardwoods.

If anyone had asked me way back in 1988 what the chances were that I would end up settling with my family in Kathy’s hometown, I would have told you “no, that kind of rural living isn’t for me. I grew up in the country and now I’m a bright lights, big city girl. Ya’ll.”

If you’d gone on to ask if my college roommate’s life and mine would eventually intersect via our children’s sports, I would have barked at you: “Kids? I’ll be lucky to find some SOB willing to marry me, let along procreate with me.”  And it probably would have sounded a bit slurry due to either Bartles & Jayme’s or Zima.

These two don't look drunk or anything

Me and Kathy in our dorm room – we don’t look drunk or anything. Perhaps we were celebrating our recent perms.

Today, I realize — and am delighted — that the odds for both were much better than I ever imagined.