If Ever I Become a Criminal...

...this is the kind that I would be. The one change I would make though is that I would not ever hold a gun to someone's child and I probably wouldn't hug everyone until after several glasses of wine. Other than that, I could easily slip into a life of crime if it involved swiping wine and cheese. Oh yes I could.

Another news story I found particularly amusing is here. The title of the article on Slate's home page was "What it Feels Like to Be Gored By a Bull". Seriously, could you resist clicking on that? I couldn't and it took me to the story that I've linked to. Now, the story itself was pretty great with stats about deaths and injuries due to gorings since the start of the tradition of the running of the bulls celebration in Pamplona. But, of particular interest is the stat regarding gorings in las partes honorables.

Before you assume that I enjoy a good racking (sp?) story, this isn't America's Funniest Home Videos. No, the part that was interesting was the term las partes honorables. I don't think I need to go into how brilliant this obvious bit of irony really is, but really I do love the Spanish language and culture.

I think I need to dive back into some of my Gabriel Garcia Marquez stash after reading that story (I am sorry to have left out the accent marks in the above name, but I don't know how to get them in there with Blogger).

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I took Cayton to her swimming lesson last night and I think I learned something about my best girl. She's always been a pretty easy going kid and I've not really had to deal with a lot of irrationality from her. But, last night was really the icing on the cake.

Let me set this up... She hasn't had a lesson in over a year, so she was a bit hesitant at first. She didn't want to walk into the water so I had to carry her. Once she was in the water, she was stuck to me like fly paper. I had to pry her off of my neck (careful not to pry off my top along with her), and pull her through the water a couple of times before she got comfortable. But, I could tell that she wasn't totally happy.

The thing that impressed me though, was the fact that she didn't cry. Instead, I noticed that she had a sort of "hunker down and get through it" look on her face. She paid attention to the lessons and exercises, did what she had to do and then looked at me, "time to go?".

I think for her it was bit like riding a roller coaster. You dread it all through the line, get into the car with butterflies in your stomach, scream like hell through the whole thing, and then sigh with relief when it's over. But, as you step off the car, you realize that you had a blast and that you must, must get in line and do it all over again.

She ended the evening with a smile on her face and so did I. She was excited about getting home to Daddy and supper and I was happy to think that she might just have an inner strength and determination that will serve her well in the future (or at least in the pool).