NASCAR

We live in Charlotte. Charlotte is the home of NASCAR. We live in the home of NASCAR.

In order to embrace our new city and experience something new, we went to the All-Star Race on Saturday night at Charlotte Motor Speedway. Well, to be honest, this was not really my first NASCAR experience. I did visit Texas Motor Speedway once during college, courtesy of the Henry Family. But, regardless, this was JJ's first experience and being the avid sports fan that he is, he was pumped.

As usual, our wardrobe was a major concern in the preparation for this event. Having some knowledge of the typical attire for an event like this, I threw on jean shorts (jorts) and a t-shirt. Granted the shorts were j. crew and the shirt was Banana Republic, but whatever. JJ had gone golfing earlier in the day and decided to keep his frat boy/golf attire on. Sooo not NASCAR. Once we arrived, JJ quickly realized he was overdressed. Something that has never happened before.

Let me set the scene for those of your not fortunate enough to have experienced NASCAR for yourself. Tens of thousands of fans started tailgating at 9 am. The beer is still flowing when we got to the parking lot at 6 pm. People are starting to stumble towards the track. It seems no one has ever heard of sunscreen, the rednecks are even redder now. It was a warm day, and apparently no one had ever heard of deodorant either. I tried to keep track of the mullets, but lost count after 5 minutes. There is a smoky haze covering the entire area, as everyone is chain smoking cheap cigarettes. Very few sleeves on shirts and very few teeth in the mouths. The aggregate weight of the die hard fans in attendance is equal to the GDP of Canada (google it).

All in all it is a tapestry of unflattering stereotypes.

My favorite fan of the night was a man sitting two rows in front of us chain smoking his Doral cigarettes. After about 2 hours he started alternating drags on his cigarettes, with puffs from his inhaler. Hey buddy, I bet I can guess what caused your respiratory problems. (America, THIS is what is wrong with our health care system)

The race itself was actually really fun to watch. The All-Star race is only 100 laps as opposed to next week's Coke 600. I don't think there is any way I could stay interested for 600 laps (update- I was just informed that it is actually 600 miles, not laps, still probably not going to stay focused though). I told JJ mid-race that whoever won the race would become my favorite driver and I would follow him faithfully for the rest of his career (or until I forget to care). Lucky for me it was the Miller Lite car that won, my domestic beer of choice. So it's kind of like I am already part of the team, as I have invested in the sponsor for years.

All in all, our NASCAR date night was a success. I would totally go back next year. I will just have to remember to bring my own clean air to breathe.

Afternoon Delight

In the Bliss family, the motto has always been, "Call the police first, ask questions later." I have two stories to share.

One evening a few months back while I was visiting my parents there was a full moon. It seems that every time there is a full moon a Native American man, who I assume lives in the area, goes over to the neighborhood park and plays his drum until late at night. It is a residential neighborhood and after about 10:00 pm it gets rather annoying hearing the boom, boom, boom. I respect his right to celebrate his beliefs however he chooses, but there are plenty of nature preserves and remote desert spaces far away from people trying to get some sleep for that. So my dad called the police, and the first thing out of his mouth to the dispatcher was, "The last of the Mohicans is banging his drum too loudly over in Butler Park." The dispatcher had to control her laughter before getting the rest of my dad's statement.

Wednesday, while my sister and I were doing a workout in the same park, we noticed a couple over in the opposite corner getting a little too friendly. It started as a make-out session, but after our next set of sprints we noticed that they had moved on to the ground. Keep in mind it was 3:30, on a Wednesday, in broad daylight, less than 100 yards from a playground full of kiddos. Completely horrified, my sister stops our workout to run home to call the cops. She walks in to my parents house, out of breath, and calmly asks for the non-emergency number for the police. Her first words to the dispatcher were, "Hi, I would like to report a couple fornicating in Butler Park." After the laughter from the dispatcher subsided, she asked my sister, "Why are you out of breath?" Carolyn gave her the rest of the information and hung up.

We had a little left in our workout so we started walking back over to the park. By the time we were rounding the corner, a Chevy Tahoe (Ta-HOE, fitting isn't it?) police car was jumping the curb and driving straight through the park directly at the couple. The couple didn't notice until the car was about 15 feet away, and we watched the guy literally dive off the girl and try to crawl away. Once homeboy had pulled his pants back up, the officers separated them and asked for their IDs and I am assume asked them why they thought this location was an appropriate choice for mid-day canoodling.

I think we should find anoher park to hang out in.

Quail Hollow

Sometimes life is all about who you know, and oh boy do we know some really cool people. One of JJ's teammates and his girlfriend know several players/caddies on the PGA tour, so when the tour came to town we got to know some of them too!

On Thursday, we walked the course, saw all of her friends play/caddie and enjoyed perfect weather. I can't think of a better way to spend the afternoon. Usually, I will use any excuse to be outside.

As, great as Thursday was, Sunday was even better. One of their caddie friend's didn't make the cut, so he had Saturday and Sunday off. He graciously spent his day off giving us the pro experience at the tournament. I won't lie, I felt pretty big time when we drove up and used the player and caddie valet right at the clubhouse (it sure as heck beat using the shuttle buses or walking a mile or two in the crazy southern humidity).

Yes, feeling big time was cool, but probably the best part was listening to our new caddie friend (I don't use names to protect the innocent) explain what each player was probably thinking during their shots. I am no golf expert, so being with one made the day far more interesting. There is so much strategy involved! We got to hear funny stories about some of the other guys on tour, and understand what life on tour is like. He even pointed out a few of the players' wives who were walking the course like the rest of the general public. (I am always curious what it is like to be married to professional athletes in other sports. Well to be honest, I am always curious to see what they wear too, haha)

So a good day was had by all. We learned a lot and I will never look at a caddie the same way again. They do so so so much more than just carry the bags.

Neighbors

We have the most adorable neighborhood kids ever. We met them because our 80 pound golden retriever Barney is obsessed with their 12 pound pug/pekingese mix Myrtle. They play together and wrestle. Sometime Myrtle's entire head is in Barney's mouth, but he is so gentle with her. Other times, Myrtle leaps off the couch to get on Barney's back because its the only way she can get that high. It is hard to get a picture of them together because they are usually moving around too much, but I did get a quick pic while they took a break. See don't they look like twins? They're actually only a few weeks apart in age.

Size comparison

As funny as it is to watch them play, that was not the point of this story. Myrtle is cute, but the kids (there are 7 of them) are even cuter. A few weeks back we went over to their house for a puppy play date and the second youngest kiddo's birthday. I brought over some cookies, and as soon as she saw them her eyes got really big. "Are those cookies?" she asked. My response was "Yes! They are birthday cookies and they've got your name all over them!"

It didn't occur to me that this term might not be on 6 year old level until when she was passing out the cookies to her brothers and sisters. "Everyone gets one cookie, but look at it really close to see if it has my name on it before you eat it. Those are mine."

Her mom and I burst out laughing and she looked so confused. Try explaining the term "figure of speech" to a six year old on her birthday. Next time I will buy some frosting and come prepared.