Reggie Miller

When I was 8 years old, we lived in Indiana—home of the NBA Pacers—during the reign of Rik Smits and Reggie Miller. Naturally, we were Pacers fans. We even went to see one of their games once, and Rick Smits gave me a high-five on his way to the locker room! We used to tell time using our favorite Pacers players’ jersey numbers for fun. Like this: 7 Rik Smits=7:45, and 6 Reggie Miller=6:31. I’m not a basketballer at all, but I still remember the good ole Pacers team of the 90’s.

My best friend Katie and I dressed up as “clowns,” but underneath it all you can still see my Pacers pride. I even had matching bright gold pants.

And of course Brad wore this Reggie Miller jersey for years.

All that reminiscing just so I can say that Jeff has turned Reggie Miller. His 31st birthday was Saturday.

When I asked him what he wanted for his birthday gift, he picked out a pink motor scooter helmet for ME so I can go on romantic scooter rides with him. His gift was for ME so we can spend more time together? Can we say perfect husband?

In response to such gallantry, I had to find him another present, and since the only other things he wanted were pizza and brownies, I gave him a pizza stone. Upon reflection, I realized that I’m usually the one who makes the pizza so the second gift that was supposed to be just for him was actually for me too! Buying gifts for men in their thirties is tricky business.

And then Jeff’s brother Sam got on the give-Shaina-stuff-on-her-husband’s-birthday bandwagon, because he sent Jeff some Yaktrax for his hiking shoes, and then sent a second pair of them for me too!  We joked that I really cleaned up on Jeff’s birthday.

Ok, back to the pizza stone quickly. Jeff and I are something of pizza-teers (like musketeers but with pizza). We love a quality homemade pizza, and we’ve adapted and invented several delicious gourmet varieties. We always [pridefully] assumed that a pizza stone was the only thing that could possibly improve our pizza’s flavor and quality.

Well. The pizza stone did make the crust light and perfectly baked. BUT, I could only bake one pizza at a time on it, and the stone only fit one third of a batch of dough. So, in the time it normally takes to make 2 of our classic rectangular cookie sheet pizzas (10 minutes), I only made one small pizza on the stone. TRIPLE the time? UGH! And I made a double batch of dough on Jeff’s birthday—it took SIX times as long as I was expecting. Yes it tasted great, but my pizza stone myth has been completely busted. Ideal turned to ordeal. Dream shattered by reality. You get the idea. It took me forever to make Jeff’s birthday pizza feast. I was sweaty and tired and cranky when it was all over, and we didn’t even get to eat the birthday dinner together because I was still busy with the pizza stone when the first zas were hot.

Then the family joined us for birthday brownies and ice cream. My nerves were fried (have you noticed that I only take pictures when I’m happy? Steph took that one of Jeff eating his first bite—I’m in the background). But the show went on. BLAH, listen to me make Jeff’s birthday all about me, as if his gifts weren’t already too Shaina-ish. But the older I get, the more I realize just how much work birthday celebrations are for the woman 'o the house! I’m glad to make my dears’ birthdays special and happy, but I must admit that it is exhausting work! Anyways, Jeff loved his pizza and brownies, and I have to agree that they did turn out rather well, in spite of the…everything else.

After dinner and candle-blowing and bedtime for the niños, Dan came over to stay with the sleeping kids while Jeff took me for my first motor scooter ride on the Silver BB.

**Let me add another quick memory to set the stage for the next scene. My Mom tells this classic Shaina-story from my childhood: When I was about 2 or 3 my uncle had a motorcycle. One day, when he rode it away, roaring and sputtering in the motorcycle-esque fashion, I turned to her, shook my head seriously and said, “like cycle.” I’ve never liked speed, especially when my body is unprotected. I water ski each summer more out of habit than real enjoyment. Also, I’ve never liked loud noises. They make me tense. From my years of water skiing, I associate louder noises with faster speeds, and so when an engine gets louder, I automatically feel a pang of fear. So loud plus speed=FREAKY! Luckily the silver BB isn’t super loud or fast. But the funny thing about volume and velocity is that they are very relative. **

Riding on the back of the BB literally scared the pizza stone crankiness right out of me! I felt like a new woman when we got back from our little 5 mile putt. Next time I’m grumpy I know what to do. The BB only goes 35 mph max, but 35 felt like 75 when I was perched precariously on the back of the slanted scooter seat. I kind of yelled and whimpered and gasped through the first few minutes and then I started looking off to the side into the horizon instead of down onto the hard pavement that was flashing past at a skin-gouging, bone-crunching rate. My iron grip around Jeff’s middle loosened and I managed to enjoy the beautiful evening. Mind over matter. Jeff says I need to learn how to DRIVE the thing before we go on a ride together again so I don’t freak out as much. Uh-oh.

Dan said he could hear me yelling all the way down the street. My helmet doesn’t have a full-face mask and I quickly learned that yelling (and even talking) lets the bugs in. So our first “romantic scooter ride” wasn’t exactly romantic, with all my yelling and bug-eating. I couldn’t even enjoy a calming conversation with Jeff because I couldn’t hear him through his face-mask and the whistling wind. I suppose I need to adapt my idea of romance…I thought it was a quiet slow hand-holding stroll with a pleasant conversation. That’s how Jeff won my heart in the first place. Now it’s on to bigger, louder things! The scooter ride was loud, high-speed, and full of shouting. Ah well, variety keeps life real. At least we still enjoy our walks too.

Anything for your birthday, dear.

We’re so glad that Jeffrey Argyle White was born Reggie Miller years ago!!