Hoopless In Sherman Oaks

Turns out, the lifespan of the lifetime in-ground basketball system isn't quite as enduring as we'd hoped. A mere teenager, the metal b-ball pole is dangerously corroded, filled with water, and according to first hubby, might fall down any second and smash someone's keppy in two. Ouchy.

So on Saturday, first hubby made an executive decision. "It's coming down," he told the boys. "Say your goodbyes." All the eldest could muster, via text, was a mournful "Noooooooooooo!" The youngest, however, waxed nostalgic about the many hours he'd spent, playing basketball on the driveway. Every day after school, he'd be out there, making free throws and three-pointers, all while announcing an entire NBA game at the top of his lungs. Had it not been for the Great Sewer Line Debacle of 2007, which forced us to rip up the driveway and resurface with pavers that made dribbling a challenge, God only knows what sort of lucrative NBA career the youngest might've enjoyed. But post-pavers, he quit playing ball on the driveway and never looked back. Of course, he's still a bit weepy about the demise of the lifetime in-ground system. You'd be weepy, too, I bet, if your father destroyed all your wonderful memories just because of a little corrosion and the possibility of head injury. Me? I'm already over it. I'm not too sentimental about inanimate objects. It's the animate ones that get me.

Hoopless in the S.O. This thing's getting real. Next up: power tools.

All that remains. Sniff, sniff.