Not Bad, Not Bad At All

She didn't win.

But she also did not spin wildly out of control or take 10 other cars out with her as she careened into the potted plants.
Danica Patrick, in her post-race interviews, shrugged off the interviewer's yammering on about her place in history as the first woman to lead a lap of the Indy 500. One broadcaster spewed about her immortality and breaking Mt. Everest-sized barriers, and he compared her to Sally Ride and Amelia Earhart.

I wouldn't go that far. Still, she impressed me.

Perhaps her best move of the day came when she scoffed at all the verbal backslapping and high-fiving she was getting from the commentators. When they asked her a leading question about how proud she must have felt about her racing, how she thought she compared with racing legends and how she kicked motorsport butt on Sunday, she shook her head.
''I can't believe my car didn't completely demolish because I got hit, like, twice," she said. "I drove like a rookie."

I wouldn't get too excited about all the hype that Patrick may be the next A.J. Foyt or Mario Andretti with ovaries. For the first time in two decades, Indy Racing—with Darling Danica as its persona—is being featured on the cover of Sports Illustrated.

Welcome to the wonderful world of womanhood, Ms. Patrick. You've gotten The Curse.

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So, I Changed My Mind

More than four years ago, the blog and I parted ways. I needed a change. A whole lot happened in my world since then. I switched jobs a couple times. My kid went from an elementary school tween to a teenage high schooler. We built a new house and moved. Both my parents and my sister have passed. The world around me changed as well. Mass shootings, racism, the #metoo movement, a misogynistic bigoted narcissist in the White House ... go ahead, add to the list. Toss your woes into this dumpster fire we call 2019. I appreciate my previous sentiment, that I was no longer wandering. But let's be honest, we're all trying to find our way through this mess. I decided to reboot the blog to give myself a creative outlet, a way to sort through the confusion and frustration and attempt to make sense of it all. I have a voice, and I'm not keen to silence it anymore. Guess what? I'm back, bitches.

In memoriam...

I remember the first time I heard the name "Les Anderson." A bunch of Wichita State University communication majors were sitting around on campus, talking about classes they planned to take. Several people warned me: watch out for Les Anderson. He was tough. He had a murderous grading scale. It was nearly impossible to get an A. They weren't kidding. But he wasn't tough just to be a tyrant. From his teaching sprang a fleet of incredible, successful journalists, writers, editors, broadcasters, public relations experts, advertisers, non-profit professionals...I could go on and on. Most importantly, he created a legion of people who wanted to make a difference in the world. The greatest gift Les gave to them all? He believed in them, cared about them for their own personal stories as well as the stories they told for class assignments or in the pages of his hometown newspaper. Les was my teacher. My boss. My mentor. My conscience. My champion. My friend. When I started c...

Ho, Ho, Ho, How Many Times Can I Use "I'm too busy" as an Excuse?

I haven't had time to write. Work, swim meet volunteering, holiday decorating and shopping. But truthfully, I've not been in much of a mood to write anything anyway. Last night we put up the tree and Santa chachkies, and I drank my first egg nog of the season, so perhaps I'll be in a cheerier mood. Also, I have spent some time writing the annual Schoon holiday newsletter. If you happen to get a copy, treat it like a drinking game. Every time I make you roll your eyes, take a drink. Nog, wassail, Everclear. Whatever gets you through. One sure way to assist with merriment motivation is listening to Christmas carols. I'm not going to get into a debate over what truly constitutes a carol. You can "Jesus is the reason for the season" yourself until you turn blue; I generally lean toward the secular end of the holiday tune spectrum. And if you just gasped at my use of holiday instead of Christmas, go suck on a candy cane. It's my blog and my opinions. Deal. ...

WanderingAmylessly 2.0

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