Spinning Class

Ever since we moved here, Ben has coached the speech team at our university. He has never traveled with the team very much, though, mostly because I could not bear to be away from him for a whole weekend-- sappy but true-- and because we can't both go, not with our kids. Also because he has a full time job already, but that's another story. He gets a ton of crap from our speech coaching friends about this, and he's always a really good sport about it, but I know he wishes he had more time for forensics. Without forensics, after all, he and I would have never met each other, (at speech camp in high school) fallen in love, (on the Bradley speech team) or gotten married (in Peoria, our favorite place in the world). Every year, though, his team hosts a tournament, and I get a taste of what my life would be like if I were married to a speech coach who traveled on the weekends from September to April. Hate it. Do not like it. Do NOT LIKE. But once a year? Tolerable (with a few bitchy phone calls thrown in for fun).

Ben, Mitch, and Tyler busy in the tab room


Harry and I left Jack with Jamie and dropped by to say hello to old friends and give Ben the key to my building's copy room (a legitimate errand, trust me). Harry saw his beloved babysitter Erica, who was judging a few rounds, and she played with him for a few minutes and told him she had to go teach a spinning class.

Here's Harry holding his own spinning class, which he declared was "reawwy dizzy," as in "Spinning cwass is reawwy dizzy."