Fond memories of celebrating life's big little moments from two years ago.
Day 1
Athletes have taken self-aggrandizement to new levels. Sure, they look ridiculous, but I imagine they're enjoying their own little magnificent celebration.
That got me thinking: Why should they have all the fun?
Could you imagine an accountant running around his office, arms raised in glory, each time he balanced the books?
Could you imagine an accountant running around his office, arms raised in glory, each time he balanced the books?
Two lawyers chest-bumping each other in court when they win a case? A dentist doing the Tiger Woods double-fist pump when he's finished with a patient?
Maybe not. But I'm going to do my part to bring unbridled joy into normal, everyday life this week, to celebrate little victories throughout the day.
Maybe not. But I'm going to do my part to bring unbridled joy into normal, everyday life this week, to celebrate little victories throughout the day.
And there are no refs around to penalize me 15 yards for excessive celebration.
To start, I went running yesterday and as I neared the end, I picked up the pace and crossed an imaginary finish line with my arms raised in victory. I win!
To start, I went running yesterday and as I neared the end, I picked up the pace and crossed an imaginary finish line with my arms raised in victory. I win!
No one came in second, of course, but still ... I win!
I think it'll be more fun to celebrate with others.
So when Linda mentioned she was happy with the progress of a class she's helping to teach, I said, "Let's celebrate!"
I think it'll be more fun to celebrate with others.
So when Linda mentioned she was happy with the progress of a class she's helping to teach, I said, "Let's celebrate!"
I opted for the move that's big in football these days: the raise-your-hands, sideways-jump, bump-hips-in-mid-air move.
We jumped and bumped, colliding like bumper cars, and Linda stubbed her toe on the trash can as she landed.
We jumped and bumped, colliding like bumper cars, and Linda stubbed her toe on the trash can as she landed.
Maybe athletes celebrate so often because coordinated enough to do it.
She reminded me of Arizona kicker Bill Gramatica, who tore his ACL celebrating after a field goal.
Linda was okay, and actually enjoyed it enough to try again. As I walked away after our second celebration, she said, "Wait, that's fun. Let's do it again."
She reminded me of Arizona kicker Bill Gramatica, who tore his ACL celebrating after a field goal.
Linda was okay, and actually enjoyed it enough to try again. As I walked away after our second celebration, she said, "Wait, that's fun. Let's do it again."
Welcome to Celebration Nation!
Later, I applied for a job and decided to celebrate with the Phelps Flex. When his relay team won a surprising, last-instant gold in the 2008 Olympics swimmer Michael Phelps screamed and flexed in celebration.
So, I tore off my shirt, flexed, and let out a primal scream. Good thing I don't live in an apartment.
Fortunately, there were no cameras to capture my celebration because Phelps' six-pack bears no resemblance to my 1-pack. But it was fun--so I did it again!
Daniel wanted to be a part of Celebration Nation, so to commemorate his finishing his homework last night, I decided we should chest-bump. (Variety is the spice of celebrations!)
Daniel wanted to be a part of Celebration Nation, so to commemorate his finishing his homework last night, I decided we should chest-bump. (Variety is the spice of celebrations!)
We stood a few feet apart, ran towards each other, and leaped.
Since Daniel is almost two feet shorter than I am, it was really more of a stomach-face bump, and I had to catch him from falling backwards to the floor as we landed.
Since Daniel is almost two feet shorter than I am, it was really more of a stomach-face bump, and I had to catch him from falling backwards to the floor as we landed.
But he loved it, so much that he then did two belly bumps with Linda.
The week may not make much sense--do many of my weeks? Being a superhero? Listening to Britney?--but it sure is a lot of fun.
The week may not make much sense--do many of my weeks? Being a superhero? Listening to Britney?--but it sure is a lot of fun.
Now, where can I do the Lambeau Leap?
Day 2
Linda and I showed off our celebratory skills to our friend Carol when she stopped by. With a running start, we did a high-flying chest bump in our living room as she stood watching.
Then, I turned and went to let Carol in on the fun, but as I went airborne, she remained earth-bound and unmoved. "I'd hurt myself if I did that," she said.
She may not be a leaper, but Carol knows a thing or two about celebrating, since she asked, "Does that mean you're going to do The Worm?"
You bet! Some celebrations are well-known, such as The Worm, where athletes drop to the ground and see-saw back and forth like a worm.
Then, I turned and went to let Carol in on the fun, but as I went airborne, she remained earth-bound and unmoved. "I'd hurt myself if I did that," she said.
She may not be a leaper, but Carol knows a thing or two about celebrating, since she asked, "Does that mean you're going to do The Worm?"
You bet! Some celebrations are well-known, such as The Worm, where athletes drop to the ground and see-saw back and forth like a worm.
There's also the Lambeau Leap, The Merton Hanks Funky Chicken, and the Ickey Shuffle.
But I needed to do some serious research on fun to find enough moves to continue varying my celebrations. It turns out that football and soccer are the clear leaders in ways to get your groove on.
That makes sense since there's less scoring in those sports than in basketball so celebrations are expected.
But I needed to do some serious research on fun to find enough moves to continue varying my celebrations. It turns out that football and soccer are the clear leaders in ways to get your groove on.
That makes sense since there's less scoring in those sports than in basketball so celebrations are expected.
Baseball and golf are more buttoned-up than a TV news anchor. And does hockey still really count as a major sport?
I guess I could pretend to be a NASCAR driver and make doughnuts on the front lawn if I'm feeling really crazy later in the week.
I found 46 different ways to let the world know you're wonderful. Among the obvious are the Deion Sanders High Step, the Heisman Pose, The Mutombo Finger Wag, and Shawne Merriman's Lights Out Sack Dance.
Soccer's contributions include the Brandi Chastain, The Airplane, the Maradona Jump, and The Klinsmann, named for legendary star Jurgen Klinsmann, who would dive onto the ground with his arms outstretched as if flopping to draw a penalty.
Among the all-time best celebrations is the Kirk Gibson Fist Pump, which he performed after a game-winning homer in the World Series. I'll save that for a special occasions.
I wrote out my list and put it in my pocket for reference, knowing each moment worth celebrating deserved an appropriate move.
Armed with my fun facts, I was ready to take on the day. I did the Funky Chicken after I'd cleaned the kitchen, and, after I contacted someone I'd been hoping to reach, I did the Ickey Shuffle.
Then, I donated a couple dozen books to the library, so I did Deion's High Step, the tail end of which was witnessed by a family exiting the library.
I found 46 different ways to let the world know you're wonderful. Among the obvious are the Deion Sanders High Step, the Heisman Pose, The Mutombo Finger Wag, and Shawne Merriman's Lights Out Sack Dance.
Soccer's contributions include the Brandi Chastain, The Airplane, the Maradona Jump, and The Klinsmann, named for legendary star Jurgen Klinsmann, who would dive onto the ground with his arms outstretched as if flopping to draw a penalty.
Among the all-time best celebrations is the Kirk Gibson Fist Pump, which he performed after a game-winning homer in the World Series. I'll save that for a special occasions.
I wrote out my list and put it in my pocket for reference, knowing each moment worth celebrating deserved an appropriate move.
Armed with my fun facts, I was ready to take on the day. I did the Funky Chicken after I'd cleaned the kitchen, and, after I contacted someone I'd been hoping to reach, I did the Ickey Shuffle.
Then, I donated a couple dozen books to the library, so I did Deion's High Step, the tail end of which was witnessed by a family exiting the library.
The mom raised her eyebrows--I wasn't sure if it was because I was doing it poorly or that she wanted to join in.
I went back inside to get a book or two and celebrated two good choices by doing The Shhhh, which seemed fitting given the setting. It's a celebration an athlete does when he's so good, he's unsuccessfully trying to keep his dominance quiet. I know the feeling.
I heard great news from a neighbor, whose wife's cancer is in remission, so I gave him a shoulder shimmy and back pat, an understated celebration akin to how a player would interact with his coach.
I went back inside to get a book or two and celebrated two good choices by doing The Shhhh, which seemed fitting given the setting. It's a celebration an athlete does when he's so good, he's unsuccessfully trying to keep his dominance quiet. I know the feeling.
I heard great news from a neighbor, whose wife's cancer is in remission, so I gave him a shoulder shimmy and back pat, an understated celebration akin to how a player would interact with his coach.
That's appropriate since the man is in his late 80s, and I knew when I told Linda later we could be less restrained.
After I told Linda the good news, I decided we should do the Maradona Jump, a leap where you lift your legs and
pump your fist skyward.
After I told Linda the good news, I decided we should do the Maradona Jump, a leap where you lift your legs and
pump your fist skyward. Linda looked particularly joyful, so I took her picture; unfortunately, her back's a little weak and after a few takes, she felt a pinch.
Linda should have followed Carol's approach. Perhaps I don't give athletes enough credit for staying in such prime celebratory shape.
Linda should have followed Carol's approach. Perhaps I don't give athletes enough credit for staying in such prime celebratory shape.
Day 3
My celebrations are a little stiff--not surprisingly, the one I did yesterday that looked best was The Heisman in a restaurant.
Performing The Heisman is the only time my stiffness pays off.
My brother and his wife had given us a gift card, and at the restaurant I'd taken a chance by ordering mozzarella fondue.
I love one of those two words, and though I wasn't sure I'd be fond of fondue, I figured I'd take a shot.
After Linda and I devoured it the way the three bears ate Goldilocks' porridge, I decided The Heisman would be the best celebration given the table's tight quarters. We looked good, although when do you ever see two Heismans together?
After Linda and I devoured it the way the three bears ate Goldilocks' porridge, I decided The Heisman would be the best celebration given the table's tight quarters. We looked good, although when do you ever see two Heismans together?
One reason my celebrations look Herman Munster-esque is, well, reflected in that reference.
I'm in my mid-40s, my knees are peanut brittle, and I played team sports when celebrating a score meant you were showing up your opponents.
In other words, I'm old and I have no practice with this kind of thing.
I scored one lone touchdown in my life on a kickoff return and I did The Barry Sanders--I handed the ball to the ref quietly and simply.
In other words, I'm old and I have no practice with this kind of thing.
I scored one lone touchdown in my life on a kickoff return and I did The Barry Sanders--I handed the ball to the ref quietly and simply.
I hit a playoff game-winning jumper in high school and celebrated by high-fiving a teammate. I was crazy like that.
Seven-year-old Daniel shows promise, however. His willingness to celebrate at any moment, and his desire to shake-and-bake to create a new move each time bodes well for his celebratory career.
Seven-year-old Daniel shows promise, however. His willingness to celebrate at any moment, and his desire to shake-and-bake to create a new move each time bodes well for his celebratory career.
Now if only I could get him to actually play more sports....
After I beat Daniel in Chutes and Ladders, I broke out the Billy "White Shoes" Johnson, where you shake your legs back and forth and hold your hands over your head like you're under arrest.
After I beat Daniel in Chutes and Ladders, I broke out the Billy "White Shoes" Johnson, where you shake your legs back and forth and hold your hands over your head like you're under arrest.
I had him do it with me, but he declared, "This isn't cool."
He's got it point. It really is Celebration 1.0 in a Celebration 9.0 world.
When my parents called to say they'd finally sold their place, Daniel said, "Get up and celebrate!" and showed me his new move.
He high-fived me, we spun, bumped backsides, did a blind backward low-five, pivoted, and finished with a high-five.
He's got it point. It really is Celebration 1.0 in a Celebration 9.0 world.
When my parents called to say they'd finally sold their place, Daniel said, "Get up and celebrate!" and showed me his new move.
He high-fived me, we spun, bumped backsides, did a blind backward low-five, pivoted, and finished with a high-five.
"You always have to finish with a regular high-five, Dad," he said earnestly.
A regular old high-five is the climax? I guess the more things change, the more they stay the same.
A regular old high-five is the climax? I guess the more things change, the more they stay the same.
I'm going to celebrate that with an old-school Jordan-beats-Ehlo jumping triple-fist pump.
Day 4
I geared up for poker night with the guys by reviewing my list of well-known celebrations in the afternoon.
Since Cowboys fan Brian was coming over, I figured I had to perform Terrell Owens's Stomp The Star, though I did consider the possibility that Brian could pull a George Teague Stomps Owens and blindside me.
To be safe, I decided to skip the Stomp.
I thought it'd be cool to break out The Worm during poker, so I figured a little practice wouldn't hurt. It looks like a fun, easy little thing to do.
I couldn't have been more wrong. What boneless, breakdancer-wannabe athlete came up with this move? I dropped to the floor, attempted to gyrate like a worm, and nearly broke my spine.
I'm beginning to think I shouldn't be so hard on athletes with celebratory moves. More power to them if they can start shaking without braking.
Okay, The Worm was out, but that still left Chad Ochocinco's Squirrel, his Riverdance, or his Give CPR To A Football.
There was also the Atlanta Falcons' Dirty Bird, the Barry Bonds Home Run Twirl, Sammy Sosa's 'Scuse Me While I Kiss The Sky, and an array of soccer moves.
However, the more I read my list, the more I realized I shouldn't practice after all, since the spirit of the celebration should overcome me, making the move organic, more in the moment.
Which is exactly what happened when the guys arrived, and, shortly into the evening, Brian showed off a card trick that fooled the fools.
However, the more I read my list, the more I realized I shouldn't practice after all, since the spirit of the celebration should overcome me, making the move organic, more in the moment.
Which is exactly what happened when the guys arrived, and, shortly into the evening, Brian showed off a card trick that fooled the fools.
I stood up to celebrate and coaxed him into performing Ochocinco's The Squirrel with me.
Ochocinco wouldn't have recognized it.
Unfortunately for my celebration plans, the night devolved into an episode of The View. (Hope that doesn't make me Barbara Walters.)
Ochocinco wouldn't have recognized it.
Unfortunately for my celebration plans, the night devolved into an episode of The View. (Hope that doesn't make me Barbara Walters.)
We talked and talked, the cards sat, my checklist of celebrations remained untouched, and, I'm sure, the guys sighed in relief.
I can't blame them; they had seen me dance like Britney last week.
I was hoping to bust my moves in celebration of winning hands, but the evening produced more card tricks (2) than poker hands (1).
I can't blame them; they had seen me dance like Britney last week.
I was hoping to bust my moves in celebration of winning hands, but the evening produced more card tricks (2) than poker hands (1).
There were fewer chances for celebration than Emmy night at Susan Lucci's table.
Still, as the guys prepared to leave, I dragged them outside at 12:15 for one pre-planned celebration.
Still, as the guys prepared to leave, I dragged them outside at 12:15 for one pre-planned celebration.
I wanted to enjoy the exuberance of a Fun Bunch High Five, the touchdown celebration created by the Washington Redskins in the early 1980s.
So I directed the guys into a circle on my front lawn in the wee hours, we swung our arms as we counted to three, and jumped into a group high five.
The joy was ... not exactly like celebrating a Super Bowl touchdown. Or as Steve said, "Well. That happened."
Good thing they're not humoring me.
The joy was ... not exactly like celebrating a Super Bowl touchdown. Or as Steve said, "Well. That happened."
Good thing they're not humoring me.
Day 5
Not everything I've done this week has been a cause for celebration. Linda was eager to see Avatar, so we ducked into a matinee ... and it laid an egg.
The movie's stunning visuals couldn't overcome a rehashed, B-movie plot, and soap-opera-quality drivel for dialogue.
Looking back now, I should have waved the Dikembe Mutombo No-You-Don't Finger in the theater.
Or maybe I should have wagged my Mutombo Finger at Linda when she proposed a nightmarish double feature: that we go shopping after the movie since we were in the area.
A lousy movie followed by food shopping? I had less to celebrate than a Detroit Lions fan.
Thank goodness the kids came to my rescue. Daniel and his friends love the idea of celebrating, so I'm the Pied Piper of Partying this week.
Kids think life is one big celebration and that somehow they're missing out if they're not always in a state of total joy. I tend to agree with them, though they can be demanding little happy campers.
One time, Daniel and a friend played for three hours straight, running, joking, laughing--and after uproarious laughter, Daniel paused for 10 seconds, turned to me, and said, "We're bored. There's nothing to do."
Thank goodness the kids came to my rescue. Daniel and his friends love the idea of celebrating, so I'm the Pied Piper of Partying this week.
Kids think life is one big celebration and that somehow they're missing out if they're not always in a state of total joy. I tend to agree with them, though they can be demanding little happy campers.
One time, Daniel and a friend played for three hours straight, running, joking, laughing--and after uproarious laughter, Daniel paused for 10 seconds, turned to me, and said, "We're bored. There's nothing to do."
I didn't have that problem the other day because I was ready when Daniel and next-door neighbors Emma and Abby arrived after school.
They were my Celebration students and I was going to school them on the wonder of The Lambeau Leap.
I had three of us sit on the couch pretending we were in the front row at Lambeau Field in Green Bay, where Packer players jump into the crowd after scoring a touchdown.
I moved the coffee table and cleared a path for the fourth person to come sprinting toward us and leap into our arms.
As I explained what we were doing, the three of them looked at me as if I were teaching quantum physics.
It was good that crazy Mr. Roach's game involved three things kids love: running, jumping, and laughing, so they bought in like I was Willy Wonka.
After Emma timidly jogged toward us and then was quickly mauled by adoring fans, the three of them got into the spirit.
They were diving in, with knees and elbows flailing, and bodies tumbling like laundry in a dryer.
When I see ESPN highlights, I sometimes think it'd be fun to be in the crowd for a Lambeau Leap, but now I'm not sure it could top the comical pile-ups we created.
When I see ESPN highlights, I sometimes think it'd be fun to be in the crowd for a Lambeau Leap, but now I'm not sure it could top the comical pile-ups we created.
Who wants Green Bay and 10-degree temperatures when all you really need are a couch and a couple of kids?
Day 6
Daniel and I needed a celebration for the opening of his pretend restaurant in our
basement--Chez Roachez.
basement--Chez Roachez. We were also celebrating his first customer (his Mom), and his restaurant's first real dollar bill (my money).
If he's smart, Daniel will serve his Mom three times a day since her "meal" included water from our faucet and food from our closets.
If he's smart, Daniel will serve his Mom three times a day since her "meal" included water from our faucet and food from our closets.
He made 100 percent profit on his first day of business, while his restaurant cost me money.
I figure I've got about four years until I'm working for him.
To celebrate his success, we raced up the basement stairs like we were Rocky climbing the Art Museum steps and raised our arms in triumph while shouting, "Adrienne!"
I figure I've got about four years until I'm working for him.
To celebrate his success, we raced up the basement stairs like we were Rocky climbing the Art Museum steps and raised our arms in triumph while shouting, "Adrienne!"
I even made Daniel curl his lip and mumble as he "Adrienne'd" his lungs out.
I'd love to be there Monday if a schoolteacher asks Daniel what he did this weekend.
I'd love to be there Monday if a schoolteacher asks Daniel what he did this weekend.
"I opened a restaurant, ran up the steps like Rocky, and did a Lambeau Leap," he'd say. "What did you do?"
We also performed Shawne Merriman's Lights Out Sack Dance just before bed to celebrate the completion of an original lego creation.
As we stood ready to dance, Daniel ran to the light switch and flipped it off when he heard the name of our proposed dance.
"Then the lights have to be out, Dad," he said.
An instant before he flipped the switch, I saw roughly 83,000 Legos lying in wait on his bedroom floor, each one set to pierce my feet as I gyrated in the dark like an elephant on hot coals.
I could see myself sitting in the ER with a sprained ankle having to explain to some Doogie Howser, M.D. exactly what I'd done.
An instant before he flipped the switch, I saw roughly 83,000 Legos lying in wait on his bedroom floor, each one set to pierce my feet as I gyrated in the dark like an elephant on hot coals.
I could see myself sitting in the ER with a sprained ankle having to explain to some Doogie Howser, M.D. exactly what I'd done.
"Well, as we started to do the Sack Dance in complete darkness, I stepped on a Turbo Blaster."
That hardly qualifies as the weirdest thing a doctor has been told. In fact, I once contributed to an injury I'd love to have heard my brother explain to his doctor.
We were kids and we were walking to a friend's house when I felt the need to help solve the nation's gas shortage.
That hardly qualifies as the weirdest thing a doctor has been told. In fact, I once contributed to an injury I'd love to have heard my brother explain to his doctor.
We were kids and we were walking to a friend's house when I felt the need to help solve the nation's gas shortage.
When Paul heard my ear-splitting contribution, he turned to run out of smelling range, and in so doing, fell awkwardly down a hill, tearing his ACL.
I'd like to meet the doctor who could keep a straight face hearing that one.
Meanwhile, Paul spent his time on crutches awaiting the moment he'd be able to pin me to the floor so he could release his own gas-shortage solution directly in my face.
I'd like to meet the doctor who could keep a straight face hearing that one.
Meanwhile, Paul spent his time on crutches awaiting the moment he'd be able to pin me to the floor so he could release his own gas-shortage solution directly in my face.
Clearly the two of us wasted our youth when we could have been profiting off our mom by opening a "restaurant."
Or at least a "gas station."
Or at least a "gas station."
Day 7
We visited Linda's mom Joan Sunday, and I was eager to include her in the celebrations. When you have a fun 80-plus-year-old mother-in-law, you take advantage of it!
Daniel and I previewed what was ahead by performing the post-soccer-goal move The Airplane around her second floor as soon as we got there.
I knew Joan and I wouldn't be doing the Ozzie Smith Flip together, but I had confidence she would look better than Phil Mickelson doing his Inch-High Victory Leap at the Masters.
Joan was a skier in her day so I was determined to find a celebratory dance to showcase her moves and coordination, something Tyler Hansbrough's Proof-I-Have-No-Rhythm celebration failed to do.
She served us bacon for breakfast--I could already feel a celebration on the horizon as it sizzled!--and it dawned on me that bacon is a rare wonder food.
Unlike my beloved pizza, I can eat bacon for any meal without incurring others' wrath: breakfast, brunch and lunch (BLT), dinner (bacon cheeseburger), breakfast/dinner aka brinner (plain ol' bacon again), or supper (bacon-wrapped pork).
God bless Betty Crocker, I can even enjoy the taste of bacon with something as healthy as a salad, thanks to the wonder of Bac-Os.
Later, Daniel and I celebrated his building of a new Lego creation (in no time flat) amidst the chaos of the 2,700 Lego pieces he'd brought to Joan's house (in no order).
I knew Joan and I wouldn't be doing the Ozzie Smith Flip together, but I had confidence she would look better than Phil Mickelson doing his Inch-High Victory Leap at the Masters.
Joan was a skier in her day so I was determined to find a celebratory dance to showcase her moves and coordination, something Tyler Hansbrough's Proof-I-Have-No-Rhythm celebration failed to do.
She served us bacon for breakfast--I could already feel a celebration on the horizon as it sizzled!--and it dawned on me that bacon is a rare wonder food.
Unlike my beloved pizza, I can eat bacon for any meal without incurring others' wrath: breakfast, brunch and lunch (BLT), dinner (bacon cheeseburger), breakfast/dinner aka brinner (plain ol' bacon again), or supper (bacon-wrapped pork).
God bless Betty Crocker, I can even enjoy the taste of bacon with something as healthy as a salad, thanks to the wonder of Bac-Os.
Later, Daniel and I celebrated his building of a new Lego creation (in no time flat) amidst the chaos of the 2,700 Lego pieces he'd brought to Joan's house (in no order).
I gave him the choice of two post-goal soccer celebrations, either the Shirt-Over-The-Head or the Run-Away-From-Your-Teammates.
After seeing my brief demonstration of the Shirt-Over-The-Head, he said those people are "Weirdos."
After seeing my brief demonstration of the Shirt-Over-The-Head, he said those people are "Weirdos."
Right, completely unlike an adult and child who were about to run around the house celebrating Legos.
Daniel escaped his teammate for a while, but I caught him finally in the kitchen. Thankfully, Joan is a kid at heart and rolls with everything.
Daniel escaped his teammate for a while, but I caught him finally in the kitchen. Thankfully, Joan is a kid at heart and rolls with everything.
Either that, or she acts better than Meryl Streep and I'm as clueless as Inspector Clouseau.
The answer came soon enough. Before we prepared to leave, I decided we needed to celebrate our visit with Joan. It was time to pull out the big gun.
"We need to celebrate today by doing the Kirk Gibson Home Run Fist Pump," I exclaimed.
Cricket. Cricket. Cricket.
The three of them have the collective sports knowledge of pine tar.
I showed them the move as I ran around the kitchen table pretending it was a baseball diamond, and--forget Betty Crocker--God bless Joan she loved the idea.
That's how Joan, Daniel and I ended up running around Joan's kitchen table after our pretend home run swing, fist-pumping furiously, celebrating our game-winning home runs.
It was fitting to finish a week of legendary celebrations with a first: "My first and only home run!" Joan said.
The answer came soon enough. Before we prepared to leave, I decided we needed to celebrate our visit with Joan. It was time to pull out the big gun.
"We need to celebrate today by doing the Kirk Gibson Home Run Fist Pump," I exclaimed.
Cricket. Cricket. Cricket.
The three of them have the collective sports knowledge of pine tar.
I showed them the move as I ran around the kitchen table pretending it was a baseball diamond, and--forget Betty Crocker--God bless Joan she loved the idea.
That's how Joan, Daniel and I ended up running around Joan's kitchen table after our pretend home run swing, fist-pumping furiously, celebrating our game-winning home runs.
It was fitting to finish a week of legendary celebrations with a first: "My first and only home run!" Joan said.
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