it. “Let me ask you this, then. Would you have any interest in doing a little coaching?”
That took me by surprise. “Here?”
He nodded. “Yeah. We’re going to run some sports camps this summer. One- and two-week deals. I’d love to have somebody like you working the football camps. I was going to call you and introduce myself and invite you in, so when I saw you and your daughter up front there, I just figured I’d go ahead and extend the offer now.”
He didn’t know it, but he was pushing the right button. Since I’d left the high school, I hadn’t really missed the teaching or the administrative tasks that came along with the classroom. But I missed being out on the field with the kids.
“Don’t say no today,” he said, holding up a hand. “Think it over. We could work around your schedule, and you could set it up any way you want. But I’d love to have you if you have any interest.”
I offered my hand. “Thanks, Jimmy. I’ll def i-nitely think about it.”
He shook my hand and walked us back out front. Mandy waved good-bye to Carly, who waved back like Mandy was her best friend ever.
“Hope we see you again, Deuce,” Jimmy Landry said.
Based on Carly’s impression of Tough Tykes, I was pretty sure he could count on that.
26
We stopped at the park on the way home, and I let Carly play for a while. Running around did her good and left her less wound up for the rest of the day. Sitting in the sun and watching her did the same for me. Watching her sprint from slide to swing to tunnel, wide-eyed and sweaty, convinced me that the American working public would be better served if one of those monstrous play apparatuses was installed in every business park in the country. It would serve everyone well for grown men and women to spend a few minutes running around in dress clothes in the middle of their workday and coming down the giant twisty slide. There was no equal as a stress buster, and the exercise would be an added benefit.
If I could find a company that did that, I just might consider going back to work when Carly was in school full-time.
When she was sufficiently worn out, we headed home, and after the tiniest bit of resistance, she went down for a nap.
As I came downstairs from her room, I saw a car parked across the street through our front window. A green Chevy Impala. I didn’t recognize it, yet it rang a bell somewhere in my head. I went to the window and stared at it for a moment. I didn’t see a driver, and it didn’t look new, as if one of our neighbors had just purchased it. I assumed it was just someone visiting one of our neighbors in the cul-de-sac, but there was just something about it that nagged at me.
I went to the kitchen, thinking I was just being paranoid.
I took several pieces of chicken out of the freezer to barbecue for dinner, did the morning dishes, and emptied the dishwasher from the night before. I pulled the laundry from the dryer, folded it and put it away, and started another load that had somehow materialized overnight. If there was anything that was a true surprise about staying home, it was the way dirty clothes appeared in the clothes basket at an exponential rate. As if people lived in the walls, tried on all our clothes while we were out, and then dumped them in the basket, just to mess with us.
When you stay home, you have time to think about things like this.
I grabbed a wire brush that I used to clean the grill and went to open the back screen door. It stuck, and I shoved it hard to get it to swing open.
And I heard someone grunt.
The guy was on his back, holding his nose. And I’m not sure what the most appropriate term for him was.
Midget? Dwarf?
He was about three feet tall, wearing jeans and a plaid button-down shirt that would’ve fit Carly. A gray fedora was askew on his small, fat head.
“What the hell are you doing?” I asked, because “What the hell are you?” would’ve been totally inappropriate.
He scrambled to his
That took me by surprise. “Here?”
He nodded. “Yeah. We’re going to run some sports camps this summer. One- and two-week deals. I’d love to have somebody like you working the football camps. I was going to call you and introduce myself and invite you in, so when I saw you and your daughter up front there, I just figured I’d go ahead and extend the offer now.”
He didn’t know it, but he was pushing the right button. Since I’d left the high school, I hadn’t really missed the teaching or the administrative tasks that came along with the classroom. But I missed being out on the field with the kids.
“Don’t say no today,” he said, holding up a hand. “Think it over. We could work around your schedule, and you could set it up any way you want. But I’d love to have you if you have any interest.”
I offered my hand. “Thanks, Jimmy. I’ll def i-nitely think about it.”
He shook my hand and walked us back out front. Mandy waved good-bye to Carly, who waved back like Mandy was her best friend ever.
“Hope we see you again, Deuce,” Jimmy Landry said.
Based on Carly’s impression of Tough Tykes, I was pretty sure he could count on that.
26
We stopped at the park on the way home, and I let Carly play for a while. Running around did her good and left her less wound up for the rest of the day. Sitting in the sun and watching her did the same for me. Watching her sprint from slide to swing to tunnel, wide-eyed and sweaty, convinced me that the American working public would be better served if one of those monstrous play apparatuses was installed in every business park in the country. It would serve everyone well for grown men and women to spend a few minutes running around in dress clothes in the middle of their workday and coming down the giant twisty slide. There was no equal as a stress buster, and the exercise would be an added benefit.
If I could find a company that did that, I just might consider going back to work when Carly was in school full-time.
When she was sufficiently worn out, we headed home, and after the tiniest bit of resistance, she went down for a nap.
As I came downstairs from her room, I saw a car parked across the street through our front window. A green Chevy Impala. I didn’t recognize it, yet it rang a bell somewhere in my head. I went to the window and stared at it for a moment. I didn’t see a driver, and it didn’t look new, as if one of our neighbors had just purchased it. I assumed it was just someone visiting one of our neighbors in the cul-de-sac, but there was just something about it that nagged at me.
I went to the kitchen, thinking I was just being paranoid.
I took several pieces of chicken out of the freezer to barbecue for dinner, did the morning dishes, and emptied the dishwasher from the night before. I pulled the laundry from the dryer, folded it and put it away, and started another load that had somehow materialized overnight. If there was anything that was a true surprise about staying home, it was the way dirty clothes appeared in the clothes basket at an exponential rate. As if people lived in the walls, tried on all our clothes while we were out, and then dumped them in the basket, just to mess with us.
When you stay home, you have time to think about things like this.
I grabbed a wire brush that I used to clean the grill and went to open the back screen door. It stuck, and I shoved it hard to get it to swing open.
And I heard someone grunt.
The guy was on his back, holding his nose. And I’m not sure what the most appropriate term for him was.
Midget? Dwarf?
He was about three feet tall, wearing jeans and a plaid button-down shirt that would’ve fit Carly. A gray fedora was askew on his small, fat head.
“What the hell are you doing?” I asked, because “What the hell are you?” would’ve been totally inappropriate.
He scrambled to his
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