East Capitol and the Washington Monument
I spent my day wandering DC like a lost tourist. It was a good way to spend an unpaid Friday. For years, I have meant to make a return to the monument with the multi-colored bricks. My intentions were waylaid, not by lack of funds or civil war like the builders, but by the desire to avoid a line and the proximity factor. I'm developing a theory that the closer one lives to a popular destination the harder it is to attend. "There's always tomorrow," becomes a mantra as strong as any voodoo curse or force field.
In Isaiah's Feather style, I finally made tomorrow today. I joined the ticket line later than I would have liked and was rewarded with a ticket three hours from that moment. I went on a long walk in search of an eyebrow window, the future, and some digital pictures. I found two of the three, snapping shots of row houses and Volkswagens along East Capitol street as the minutes ticked by. I discovered a musty book store, a diner with an American name run by Vietnamese women, but not an eyebrow window.
With the future just 30 minutes away, I dodged school groups and eager teens snapping photos to take a quick look at the Lincoln exhibit at the Smithsonian. The top hat was in disrepair, the replica bed clothes were not picture-worthy, sorry teen girls, and I was rushing, but I still had time to stop and take in a series of Lincoln portraits. The first thing I noticed was Lincoln's strong jaw line. He was better looking than legend tells. His beard wasn't as ubiquitous either. The series conveyed the toll that presidency and a civil war had taken on the man. I considered it for a moment with a stroke of my own beard before heading off to the Washington Monument stairs.
The stairs of the monument closed years ago, now the only way up is by park service escorted elevator. The elevator is the size of my bedroom and metallic. It seems completely out of place as does most of the interior of this 555-foot structure. Masons on the outside, St. Louis Arch-builders on the inside. The incongruity is off-putting, but the real disappointment was in he realization that 555 feet isn't that high up. Sure this was the tallest structure going in the mid to late 1800s, but an airplane flying in to Reagan provides a better view and it includes the Washington Monument. Fly in to town and get the same view with less security. Check it off the list.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Beard News
The pros:
I’m now finding beard hairs up to 3.5 inches long. I measured. I can fold
my beard up into my face and touch my nose. I adore my shadow; my head
looks so elongated, like there’s a little Lincoln hidden in there. I
haven’t noticed anyone staring at me on the street, but I do get
noticed. Ultimate players really dig the beard. This is just another
reason that I like Ultimate players.
The cons:
I can’t eat anything without getting it in my beard. Couscous is my
favorite food to pick out because it is very satisfying to pull little
food pellets out. Syrup, ice cream, and anything similar are not so fun.
I can’t fight the syrup at all. It’s an instant mess. It makes me feel
three years old. People are constantly telling me that I have food in
my beard at mealtime. I always have a napkin ready to go, but sometimes
even a quick draw with the quicker-picker-upper isn’t quick enough.
The jokes:
I went to a meeting the other day with a coworker that I haven’t seen in
months. After she realized who I was, she said, “Has it been that long?”
Another coworker answered for me, “He’s been stranded on a deserted
island- Castaway style.”
The spreading world-wide acceptance of facial hair:
This clip from the Buenos Aires Film Festival is awesome. Thanks, Alan.
The pros:
I’m now finding beard hairs up to 3.5 inches long. I measured. I can fold
my beard up into my face and touch my nose. I adore my shadow; my head
looks so elongated, like there’s a little Lincoln hidden in there. I
haven’t noticed anyone staring at me on the street, but I do get
noticed. Ultimate players really dig the beard. This is just another
reason that I like Ultimate players.
The cons:
I can’t eat anything without getting it in my beard. Couscous is my
favorite food to pick out because it is very satisfying to pull little
food pellets out. Syrup, ice cream, and anything similar are not so fun.
I can’t fight the syrup at all. It’s an instant mess. It makes me feel
three years old. People are constantly telling me that I have food in
my beard at mealtime. I always have a napkin ready to go, but sometimes
even a quick draw with the quicker-picker-upper isn’t quick enough.
The jokes:
I went to a meeting the other day with a coworker that I haven’t seen in
months. After she realized who I was, she said, “Has it been that long?”
Another coworker answered for me, “He’s been stranded on a deserted
island- Castaway style.”
The spreading world-wide acceptance of facial hair:
This clip from the Buenos Aires Film Festival is awesome. Thanks, Alan.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Wedding receptions are fun
I thought it was just the dancing that made me enjoy wedding receptions so much, but after this weekend I'd like to revise my theory. I like wedding dancing because it takes place in this bubble of love, conversation, and reminiscing. English teachers and grandmothers and nieces, nephews, and best friends all get together and celebrate with some food or drink. This combination of people with past seems to put the crowd in a pretty good mood. I want to figure out how to throw dance parties with that same vibe. Inviting English teachers and digging out some old photo albums might be good first steps.
One part of the experience that I will leave out of my dance party is the garter toss. When it came time at this wedding, I must have been the last single guy still around. The groom held the garter up in the air and looked around. Reluctantly, I raised my hand and he tossed it in my general direction. There wasn't much I could do. This couple had eschewed many of the traditional reception festivities and yet the bouquet and garter still came out. And so, I snagged another this weekend. I think that puts me up to three. I apologize to anyone whom I'm holding back. I can toss the garter in your direction if you are worried about the order of these things. I don't want to slow anyone down, especially not if I get invited to the reception for dancing.
I thought it was just the dancing that made me enjoy wedding receptions so much, but after this weekend I'd like to revise my theory. I like wedding dancing because it takes place in this bubble of love, conversation, and reminiscing. English teachers and grandmothers and nieces, nephews, and best friends all get together and celebrate with some food or drink. This combination of people with past seems to put the crowd in a pretty good mood. I want to figure out how to throw dance parties with that same vibe. Inviting English teachers and digging out some old photo albums might be good first steps.
One part of the experience that I will leave out of my dance party is the garter toss. When it came time at this wedding, I must have been the last single guy still around. The groom held the garter up in the air and looked around. Reluctantly, I raised my hand and he tossed it in my general direction. There wasn't much I could do. This couple had eschewed many of the traditional reception festivities and yet the bouquet and garter still came out. And so, I snagged another this weekend. I think that puts me up to three. I apologize to anyone whom I'm holding back. I can toss the garter in your direction if you are worried about the order of these things. I don't want to slow anyone down, especially not if I get invited to the reception for dancing.
Sunday, March 08, 2009
Stop thinking
I miss my hour. I have a headache. My ankle hurts so much that it's overshadowing the rest of my pains. Today was a good day. I didn't mean to play Ultimate. I wore the going-out-spectacles. I didn't pack my cleats or my ankle brace or a red jersey. Yes, I wore shorts and a white jersey, but those other items are pretty essential, I thought.
P had some extra cleats. B taped my ankle. I raided my running shoes and made some in-soles. We went white. I tried to keep my glasses on my face. Somewhere deep inside I wanted to play, of course. I wouldn't have done it if today had been a strictly college tournament, but the snow melt had turned Huck into Muck and so 8 teams met to play and one of those 8 was a local club team. All bets were off and CUA only had 7 active players. I made 8. That's kind of how this whole thing began 6 years ago.
First, we faced SUNY-Buffalo. We were playing well out of the HO stack, the hucks were working thanks to some pretty big throws from AJ and we found a groove. J was scoring all over the place. Turnovers were fairly scarce and despite our lack of subs, we started to pull away and we never looked back taking the game 13-5. Personally, I was struggling on my ankle, feeling slow, and feeling the lack of subs, but I did get one big guy to bite on a couple of fakes so that I could pull in a deep one. My mind is pretty fuzzy on a lot of other details, but everybody was working well together and having a good time. We won 13-5.
Next, we faced the local club team WireTap. Even with numbers, we would have been overmatched. JA gave a great speech about getting points and we set a goal to get 5-10 on this team. Talk about a blur, the details really get fuzzy for me in this game. I think they scored first and then we scored. Everybody continued to work well together. AJ kept hucking. JA was working well in the middle. B and P were doing good handler work, J was slicing through the zone and everybody was running as much as they could. K got a cleat stepping on his hand which put us down to no subs, but we kept fighting. Turnovers for our team were few and far between. I seemed to be about the biggest mess on the field. AJ threw a huge hammer/blade that just missed the outstretched fingers of my defender and then came screaming down into my chest. I couldn't hold on. JA kept throwing one more fake than I thought he was going to and I ended up throwing it away. Then in a series that baffles me almost as much as my sticky fingers, I couldn't get P to make a move on the dump, so I turned to B. He got open and I lofted the disc away from him and into his defender. To top that off, I laid out into the feet of the guy who scored on the next throw. Not sweet. Still, despite some miscues on my part, we had the early lead. We were up about 6-3 before squeaking to half at 7-6. We kept fighting, a few points seemed to last forever. WireTap did a poor job of running us to death (age no doubt played a factor) and instead decided to play into our hands for the most part. Unfortunately, our hands couldn't quite grasp victory and we lost 10-11. I know that this was the beginning of their season and that they took us lightly, but this mattered to us.
We were supposed to play 3 more games, but cramps, hands, ankles, and more left us too spent to continue. The lessons to learn: we can get in there and battle with good teams. We can do the little things right, stay close on D, turn it over less, and we can mix it up with some good teams. That's a good lesson if we can cling to it.
What a pleasure to take the field with those guys, several who I've been around for 4 years now. Yeah, Habit, yeah.
I miss my hour. I have a headache. My ankle hurts so much that it's overshadowing the rest of my pains. Today was a good day. I didn't mean to play Ultimate. I wore the going-out-spectacles. I didn't pack my cleats or my ankle brace or a red jersey. Yes, I wore shorts and a white jersey, but those other items are pretty essential, I thought.
P had some extra cleats. B taped my ankle. I raided my running shoes and made some in-soles. We went white. I tried to keep my glasses on my face. Somewhere deep inside I wanted to play, of course. I wouldn't have done it if today had been a strictly college tournament, but the snow melt had turned Huck into Muck and so 8 teams met to play and one of those 8 was a local club team. All bets were off and CUA only had 7 active players. I made 8. That's kind of how this whole thing began 6 years ago.
First, we faced SUNY-Buffalo. We were playing well out of the HO stack, the hucks were working thanks to some pretty big throws from AJ and we found a groove. J was scoring all over the place. Turnovers were fairly scarce and despite our lack of subs, we started to pull away and we never looked back taking the game 13-5. Personally, I was struggling on my ankle, feeling slow, and feeling the lack of subs, but I did get one big guy to bite on a couple of fakes so that I could pull in a deep one. My mind is pretty fuzzy on a lot of other details, but everybody was working well together and having a good time. We won 13-5.
Next, we faced the local club team WireTap. Even with numbers, we would have been overmatched. JA gave a great speech about getting points and we set a goal to get 5-10 on this team. Talk about a blur, the details really get fuzzy for me in this game. I think they scored first and then we scored. Everybody continued to work well together. AJ kept hucking. JA was working well in the middle. B and P were doing good handler work, J was slicing through the zone and everybody was running as much as they could. K got a cleat stepping on his hand which put us down to no subs, but we kept fighting. Turnovers for our team were few and far between. I seemed to be about the biggest mess on the field. AJ threw a huge hammer/blade that just missed the outstretched fingers of my defender and then came screaming down into my chest. I couldn't hold on. JA kept throwing one more fake than I thought he was going to and I ended up throwing it away. Then in a series that baffles me almost as much as my sticky fingers, I couldn't get P to make a move on the dump, so I turned to B. He got open and I lofted the disc away from him and into his defender. To top that off, I laid out into the feet of the guy who scored on the next throw. Not sweet. Still, despite some miscues on my part, we had the early lead. We were up about 6-3 before squeaking to half at 7-6. We kept fighting, a few points seemed to last forever. WireTap did a poor job of running us to death (age no doubt played a factor) and instead decided to play into our hands for the most part. Unfortunately, our hands couldn't quite grasp victory and we lost 10-11. I know that this was the beginning of their season and that they took us lightly, but this mattered to us.
We were supposed to play 3 more games, but cramps, hands, ankles, and more left us too spent to continue. The lessons to learn: we can get in there and battle with good teams. We can do the little things right, stay close on D, turn it over less, and we can mix it up with some good teams. That's a good lesson if we can cling to it.
What a pleasure to take the field with those guys, several who I've been around for 4 years now. Yeah, Habit, yeah.
Saturday, March 07, 2009
Thinking about Ultimate
I'm having a quiet day full of thoughts and many are swirling about the game of Ultimate and my involvement in it. Some of that is brought on by a sore ankle and some of that is ripped right from the start of the day. As my alarm was beeping at me, I was screaming at my team to go for the disc. My dream screams were pleas to have the urgency and aggression to fight for a floating disc. If the disc hasn't hit the ground yet, there's still a chance. It's not a ball, it's hanging in the air, ripe for the taking. There are many things I don't know how to teach, today it's felt like most things, but one I've struggled with on both a small scale and on a large scale is that sense of urgency.
The goal, the test, Sectionals is less than a month away for the team. Our practice attendance has remained low and now we're having trouble drawing adequate numbers for tournaments. These are obviously big problems that need to be addressed, but I'm realizing that they are next year's problems. This is the hand we've got, regardless of the hand we wanted. There aren't enough weeks left to implement big changes or find other players, we have to work within this framework. We'll hope that our injured come back quickly, but we need to face the facts.
I've spent my day trying to figure out what the facts are. I think they are first that we need to admit that we could have been better and then put that behind us. Not enough people on the team did the work to really raise the level of play and we've had some bad luck, but what can we do now? I believe we can still do plenty. I believe this team is better than last year's team. There are more people I trust to have the discs in their hands. There are more players when they show up. Attendance is not a new problem. The only thing this team lacks compared to last year is that monstrous defensive closer; a painful thing to miss for sure, but if we'd play to our strengths it wouldn't be so detrimental. Again, I'm asking what can we do? We have to come together as a team and support one another instead of tearing people down. We've got to be engaged in the game- knowing the force, being ready to catch discs, being aware. Maybe I should be able to teach these things, but I don't know how so I just have to ask everyone to wake up and be ready, even when they are tired. Maybe morning practices taught some of that.
I also have some question of what to do during the next three weeks. On that front, I think I'd like to focus on one skill per practice, drill on it and then play. Ultimate should still be about play. It's fun and it's important to remember that. It's also fun to be better and improve. During some unscientific thought, I figured that if every person had one less turnover that could potentially result in three more scores. Three more scores could very well be the difference between losing 10-13 and winning 13-10. Nobody needs to win the game on the next throw, they just need to complete the next throw. They need to be there on defense to cause problems. Big things can still get done in the next three weeks, but the urgency has to be there and heads have to be in it. And I have to do more than write about it.
I'm having a quiet day full of thoughts and many are swirling about the game of Ultimate and my involvement in it. Some of that is brought on by a sore ankle and some of that is ripped right from the start of the day. As my alarm was beeping at me, I was screaming at my team to go for the disc. My dream screams were pleas to have the urgency and aggression to fight for a floating disc. If the disc hasn't hit the ground yet, there's still a chance. It's not a ball, it's hanging in the air, ripe for the taking. There are many things I don't know how to teach, today it's felt like most things, but one I've struggled with on both a small scale and on a large scale is that sense of urgency.
The goal, the test, Sectionals is less than a month away for the team. Our practice attendance has remained low and now we're having trouble drawing adequate numbers for tournaments. These are obviously big problems that need to be addressed, but I'm realizing that they are next year's problems. This is the hand we've got, regardless of the hand we wanted. There aren't enough weeks left to implement big changes or find other players, we have to work within this framework. We'll hope that our injured come back quickly, but we need to face the facts.
I've spent my day trying to figure out what the facts are. I think they are first that we need to admit that we could have been better and then put that behind us. Not enough people on the team did the work to really raise the level of play and we've had some bad luck, but what can we do now? I believe we can still do plenty. I believe this team is better than last year's team. There are more people I trust to have the discs in their hands. There are more players when they show up. Attendance is not a new problem. The only thing this team lacks compared to last year is that monstrous defensive closer; a painful thing to miss for sure, but if we'd play to our strengths it wouldn't be so detrimental. Again, I'm asking what can we do? We have to come together as a team and support one another instead of tearing people down. We've got to be engaged in the game- knowing the force, being ready to catch discs, being aware. Maybe I should be able to teach these things, but I don't know how so I just have to ask everyone to wake up and be ready, even when they are tired. Maybe morning practices taught some of that.
I also have some question of what to do during the next three weeks. On that front, I think I'd like to focus on one skill per practice, drill on it and then play. Ultimate should still be about play. It's fun and it's important to remember that. It's also fun to be better and improve. During some unscientific thought, I figured that if every person had one less turnover that could potentially result in three more scores. Three more scores could very well be the difference between losing 10-13 and winning 13-10. Nobody needs to win the game on the next throw, they just need to complete the next throw. They need to be there on defense to cause problems. Big things can still get done in the next three weeks, but the urgency has to be there and heads have to be in it. And I have to do more than write about it.
Monday, March 02, 2009
Snow day
I stood at the end of the driveway in three inches of snow. The government didn't close, so neither did my workplace. Large flakes floated down from the sky. I stood and watched them fall. The earth had that silent bright white magic of a snowstorm. I pulled out my phone, I can do that now, as I stood in the glistening silence. I dialed work and declared my own snow day. I've debated the merits of my decision between shoveling the driveway, sledding, and making snow ice cream. My grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup lunch go in the plus column. The people without jobs, my responsibility to my employer weigh on the con side. It's almost over now, this snow day. I need to be over it too. I made my decision. I enjoyed the snow. I need be fine with the rest of it. Maybe another bowl of snow ice cream would help.
I stood at the end of the driveway in three inches of snow. The government didn't close, so neither did my workplace. Large flakes floated down from the sky. I stood and watched them fall. The earth had that silent bright white magic of a snowstorm. I pulled out my phone, I can do that now, as I stood in the glistening silence. I dialed work and declared my own snow day. I've debated the merits of my decision between shoveling the driveway, sledding, and making snow ice cream. My grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup lunch go in the plus column. The people without jobs, my responsibility to my employer weigh on the con side. It's almost over now, this snow day. I need to be over it too. I made my decision. I enjoyed the snow. I need be fine with the rest of it. Maybe another bowl of snow ice cream would help.
Sunday, March 01, 2009
Such an imperfect weekend. So lovely
My body hasn't really felt the same since that doubleheader in January. I've worked hard to try to get myself back in place, but I'm not there and Winter League Tournament time had rolled around to meet me. Our first game was cancelled. Our numbers were high and we managed to roll through the new first game. I played a few points and felt ok. I felt like a contributor and that was the best I could be. Fortunately, we had lots of male subs and we went on to victory. The second game was against that team that took us down by universe point the last time I was feeling good. That defeat still hurt and I made that clear to my teammates. We got off to a quick start and were up by a few points, before the game became 6-5. I was contributing where I could and then took a step in the wrong direction and went down with a twisted ankle. The team marched on and took the game with a commanding finish. It was a good feeling everywhere except in my ankle. There were a number of shining moments, but none more than the dominance of SM. She was a game changer. She's always been fast and relentless, but yesterday I think Team Schaefer finally saw her for the Ultimate player that we all knew she could be. No one could cover her deep. I think she scored a dozen if she scored one. She made great grabs stretched out up in the air and great grabs reaching out. The other team starting giving her a 10-yard cushion, so the offense ran through her in cut almost every time. After that, she probably still went on to score a few. It was awesome.
My day wasn't done as I went from Burrito Brothers to the local tavern after icing my ankle. I heard a Monkees cover band which is as fun as it sounds and then saw a Rock-a-billy show. At the urging of one member of our group, I did get up and dance which did nothing for my ankle. It didn't take but a few steps for me to realize that the group member urging us to dance wasn't just a dance enthusiast, she was one heckuva dancer. Her Keds were flying all over the place to the Rock-a-billy beat. She brought guys to their feet so they could dance with her. It was splendid. I could only last two songs before my ankle cried out, but I think she could have danced the floor off.
Today should have been semi-finals and finals, but thanks to weather it has turned into brunch and a movie. My ankle thanks Mother Nature.
My body hasn't really felt the same since that doubleheader in January. I've worked hard to try to get myself back in place, but I'm not there and Winter League Tournament time had rolled around to meet me. Our first game was cancelled. Our numbers were high and we managed to roll through the new first game. I played a few points and felt ok. I felt like a contributor and that was the best I could be. Fortunately, we had lots of male subs and we went on to victory. The second game was against that team that took us down by universe point the last time I was feeling good. That defeat still hurt and I made that clear to my teammates. We got off to a quick start and were up by a few points, before the game became 6-5. I was contributing where I could and then took a step in the wrong direction and went down with a twisted ankle. The team marched on and took the game with a commanding finish. It was a good feeling everywhere except in my ankle. There were a number of shining moments, but none more than the dominance of SM. She was a game changer. She's always been fast and relentless, but yesterday I think Team Schaefer finally saw her for the Ultimate player that we all knew she could be. No one could cover her deep. I think she scored a dozen if she scored one. She made great grabs stretched out up in the air and great grabs reaching out. The other team starting giving her a 10-yard cushion, so the offense ran through her in cut almost every time. After that, she probably still went on to score a few. It was awesome.
My day wasn't done as I went from Burrito Brothers to the local tavern after icing my ankle. I heard a Monkees cover band which is as fun as it sounds and then saw a Rock-a-billy show. At the urging of one member of our group, I did get up and dance which did nothing for my ankle. It didn't take but a few steps for me to realize that the group member urging us to dance wasn't just a dance enthusiast, she was one heckuva dancer. Her Keds were flying all over the place to the Rock-a-billy beat. She brought guys to their feet so they could dance with her. It was splendid. I could only last two songs before my ankle cried out, but I think she could have danced the floor off.
Today should have been semi-finals and finals, but thanks to weather it has turned into brunch and a movie. My ankle thanks Mother Nature.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
I can't believe it's not France: The written account
Bonjour. I need to get this down on the Internet before I forget that vacation ever happened.
First stop: Stowe, Vermont. I've been threatening to do some East Coast skiing since I moved to the East Coast. After a few trips to Pennsylvania and a few trips back out West, I finally hit the slopes of Stowe. One day at a resort is hardly enough to make a good judgment, but I will admit to being pleased with the vertical drop and the variety of terrain Stowe offered. There were a few spots where that variety extended to grass and tree roots, but mostly the runs did the trick. I was fortunate and unfortunate that my snowboarding took place on a Thursday in the rain. Those two factors meant that the mountain was mostly empty. I've never skied in the rain before- once-in-a-lifetime experience, I hope. The rain was annoying, but I suspect that the accompanying warm temperatures kept the mountain from becoming the towering icicle that I anticipated. The snow conditions weren't the powder of the West, but they were a wet and mostly un-sticky sort that allowed for both speed and traction. I enjoyed myself. After a few runs I realized that something was missing. That something turned out to be altitude. Neither my heart nor my lungs ever reached that pounding, pulsing stage of a good run in Colorado. My legs would tire, but the rest of me felt just fine. That's skiing at 4000 feet above the sea and 4000 feet below the base of Winter Park.
By later afternoon, the temperature dropped and the rain turned to snow. I was unprepared for such a drastic shift in weather and could only stare in frustration at my wet gloves and clothes as the chill became too much. I was off the slopes a bit too early, but still had time to eat free ice cream at Ben & Jerry's plant, so that was a wash.
Next stop: Montreal, Canada. Montreal in February is cold as advertised. I wandered from our old old hotel down along the water where I saw the Habitat 67 (now apparently a chi-chi residence if wikipedia is to be believed), ships docked in ice, Montreal's answer to Big Ben, and I think the Biosphere or the Biodome, or some kind of Bio-enclosure. I learned an important lesson as I wandered by the water. That lesson: Never go out without my long underwear again. My legs were freezing! During this meander, I was able to summon my otherwise halting French to announce, "Je ne parle pas Francais." I don't speak French. Like most of the locals we ran into the woman I was speaking to immediately switched to perfect English. Some, particularly those in service, tended to say sentences in French and without missing a beat follow it up with the English translation. It was quite remarkable, really. Which is why I remarked on it, in case you were wondering.
I think Montreal would be a great place to practice French. I found that even a few past tense rules snuck back into my consciousness during the visit. Still, other than the language and some common names, I think we found that Montreal was less European than we'd expected. There were European influences, but the cars, the vibe, the je ne sais quois was still pretty Western.
There was a nice winter stroll through a park, and some interesting time spent underground where city art abounded. The Olympic Stadium complex wasn't all I had hoped it would be, but then the Olympics happened there before I landed on this planet. There was a five-course meal that tasted pretty, well, tasty. There was some poutine, a local delicacy of fries, gravy, and cheese curds that I spiced up with three kinds of meat. That actually turned me into a pescetarian for the time being. All of this was enjoyable and very vacation-worthy, but my favorite event didn't take place in Montreal. It was a dinner in the middle of nowhere. It was a singing, dancing, spoon-playing, delicious-eating extravaganza. The carafe of maple syrup on our table was amazing, and so were the pickled beets. The maple something-or-other pie for dessert was only outdone by the sugar on snow that capped off the evening. Even if the place hadn't been owned by a man with a big white beard, I think I would've been thrilled. I'm glad the NY Times wrote it up.
After a full weekend which must have involved some 795 hat/glove to pocket transfers, I almost made it home with my hat and gloves, but didn't. At the gas station, not a mile from the Manchester, NH airport my hat must have fallen out of the car. I realized it before I checked my bag, but there was nothing I could do by then. It wasn't the perfect end, but it was the best time to lose the hat. I only had to wear my helmet on the walk home.
Bonjour. I need to get this down on the Internet before I forget that vacation ever happened.
First stop: Stowe, Vermont. I've been threatening to do some East Coast skiing since I moved to the East Coast. After a few trips to Pennsylvania and a few trips back out West, I finally hit the slopes of Stowe. One day at a resort is hardly enough to make a good judgment, but I will admit to being pleased with the vertical drop and the variety of terrain Stowe offered. There were a few spots where that variety extended to grass and tree roots, but mostly the runs did the trick. I was fortunate and unfortunate that my snowboarding took place on a Thursday in the rain. Those two factors meant that the mountain was mostly empty. I've never skied in the rain before- once-in-a-lifetime experience, I hope. The rain was annoying, but I suspect that the accompanying warm temperatures kept the mountain from becoming the towering icicle that I anticipated. The snow conditions weren't the powder of the West, but they were a wet and mostly un-sticky sort that allowed for both speed and traction. I enjoyed myself. After a few runs I realized that something was missing. That something turned out to be altitude. Neither my heart nor my lungs ever reached that pounding, pulsing stage of a good run in Colorado. My legs would tire, but the rest of me felt just fine. That's skiing at 4000 feet above the sea and 4000 feet below the base of Winter Park.
By later afternoon, the temperature dropped and the rain turned to snow. I was unprepared for such a drastic shift in weather and could only stare in frustration at my wet gloves and clothes as the chill became too much. I was off the slopes a bit too early, but still had time to eat free ice cream at Ben & Jerry's plant, so that was a wash.
Next stop: Montreal, Canada. Montreal in February is cold as advertised. I wandered from our old old hotel down along the water where I saw the Habitat 67 (now apparently a chi-chi residence if wikipedia is to be believed), ships docked in ice, Montreal's answer to Big Ben, and I think the Biosphere or the Biodome, or some kind of Bio-enclosure. I learned an important lesson as I wandered by the water. That lesson: Never go out without my long underwear again. My legs were freezing! During this meander, I was able to summon my otherwise halting French to announce, "Je ne parle pas Francais." I don't speak French. Like most of the locals we ran into the woman I was speaking to immediately switched to perfect English. Some, particularly those in service, tended to say sentences in French and without missing a beat follow it up with the English translation. It was quite remarkable, really. Which is why I remarked on it, in case you were wondering.
I think Montreal would be a great place to practice French. I found that even a few past tense rules snuck back into my consciousness during the visit. Still, other than the language and some common names, I think we found that Montreal was less European than we'd expected. There were European influences, but the cars, the vibe, the je ne sais quois was still pretty Western.
There was a nice winter stroll through a park, and some interesting time spent underground where city art abounded. The Olympic Stadium complex wasn't all I had hoped it would be, but then the Olympics happened there before I landed on this planet. There was a five-course meal that tasted pretty, well, tasty. There was some poutine, a local delicacy of fries, gravy, and cheese curds that I spiced up with three kinds of meat. That actually turned me into a pescetarian for the time being. All of this was enjoyable and very vacation-worthy, but my favorite event didn't take place in Montreal. It was a dinner in the middle of nowhere. It was a singing, dancing, spoon-playing, delicious-eating extravaganza. The carafe of maple syrup on our table was amazing, and so were the pickled beets. The maple something-or-other pie for dessert was only outdone by the sugar on snow that capped off the evening. Even if the place hadn't been owned by a man with a big white beard, I think I would've been thrilled. I'm glad the NY Times wrote it up.
After a full weekend which must have involved some 795 hat/glove to pocket transfers, I almost made it home with my hat and gloves, but didn't. At the gas station, not a mile from the Manchester, NH airport my hat must have fallen out of the car. I realized it before I checked my bag, but there was nothing I could do by then. It wasn't the perfect end, but it was the best time to lose the hat. I only had to wear my helmet on the walk home.
Sunday, February 08, 2009
Fight beard-ism!
I was involved in a very ugly incident today. If I hadn't gone down the path of sharing my every waking thought with as little editing as possible so many years ago, I might just tuck this one away. Instead, I'll trot out my anecdote, not to teach a valuable lesson, though if I'm fortunate someone will learn one, and not to sell some product, though the young hooligans might prefer that course.
Riding my bike, minding my own business, wind blowing through my beard on this gorgeous day, an SUV passed me. From this SUV of lacrosse players, came an angry shout. It welled up from inside the passengers as they overtook the magnificent beard. Perhaps it was jealousy, or personal weakness. Perhaps they doubted my virility or failed to recognize my beauty. Whatever the case, the poor angry lacrosse players shouted one word and one word only: "SHAVE!"
For a moment I considered chasing the SUV to explain my pain, but that seemed to be an ineffective course of action. I dreamed that my beard would grow even longer and more fierce until it had tentacles that could reach out and pluck lacrosse players from their vehicles and smother them in the Head and Shoulders-scented glory of facial hair. That seemed unlikely.
I don't understand. This shout hurt me. Beards have rights too.
I was involved in a very ugly incident today. If I hadn't gone down the path of sharing my every waking thought with as little editing as possible so many years ago, I might just tuck this one away. Instead, I'll trot out my anecdote, not to teach a valuable lesson, though if I'm fortunate someone will learn one, and not to sell some product, though the young hooligans might prefer that course.
Riding my bike, minding my own business, wind blowing through my beard on this gorgeous day, an SUV passed me. From this SUV of lacrosse players, came an angry shout. It welled up from inside the passengers as they overtook the magnificent beard. Perhaps it was jealousy, or personal weakness. Perhaps they doubted my virility or failed to recognize my beauty. Whatever the case, the poor angry lacrosse players shouted one word and one word only: "SHAVE!"
For a moment I considered chasing the SUV to explain my pain, but that seemed to be an ineffective course of action. I dreamed that my beard would grow even longer and more fierce until it had tentacles that could reach out and pluck lacrosse players from their vehicles and smother them in the Head and Shoulders-scented glory of facial hair. That seemed unlikely.
I don't understand. This shout hurt me. Beards have rights too.
Monday, February 02, 2009
Somewhat of a tradition
I don't think last night's commercials gave me a lot to work with, but there's something to be said for sticking to a tradition. I wrote down some notes before I went to bed, but I spent the day reading reviews, so my biases may have shifted. Oh, it's easy to be a critic...
*Since there was a ton of animation, I feel like I need to make a special category for that. My award for coolest CGI goes to the Coca-Cola picnic. I especially liked the butterflies as coke bottle effect. (Disclaimer: One of my favorite childhood stories was about a can of root beer in a park.)
*The commercial that made me stop and watch was the Hyundai commercial with the various languages. I don't know that it had a lot of sticking power, but it caught my attention initially.
*The updated mean Joe Green commercial with Troy Palamalu hurt me. I couldn't tell how many from my party even caught the reference.
*The Godaddy ads were painful to watch on tv. I broke down and went to see the "Too hot for TV" versions. As far as I know, they weren't too hot for tv, but at least they made sense online. Godaddy needs to get a real strategy. This one trick pony should be put out to pasture.
*I thought the cars.com commercial with the guy who had it all going his way showed a lot of promise, but the payoff was cars.com and that seemed like squat. Nothing like having your product come off as a disappointment to drive people to your site.
*I liked the John Elway twist at the end of the Heroes promo ad.
*The women at my party didn't seemed pleased with the talking flowers ad, but for my money it was right on. How can I buy boxed flowers now?
I don't really have a favorite ad this year, but the one that was just one stray alien tentacle away was the Alec Baldwin hulu.com ad. He had me until he became an alien. I was perfectly happy with a Baldwin sucking my media-addled brain, but as soon as he became otherworldly it had all gone too far.
It's a fine line. Or at least that's what I think.
What a game.
I don't think last night's commercials gave me a lot to work with, but there's something to be said for sticking to a tradition. I wrote down some notes before I went to bed, but I spent the day reading reviews, so my biases may have shifted. Oh, it's easy to be a critic...
*Since there was a ton of animation, I feel like I need to make a special category for that. My award for coolest CGI goes to the Coca-Cola picnic. I especially liked the butterflies as coke bottle effect. (Disclaimer: One of my favorite childhood stories was about a can of root beer in a park.)
*The commercial that made me stop and watch was the Hyundai commercial with the various languages. I don't know that it had a lot of sticking power, but it caught my attention initially.
*The updated mean Joe Green commercial with Troy Palamalu hurt me. I couldn't tell how many from my party even caught the reference.
*The Godaddy ads were painful to watch on tv. I broke down and went to see the "Too hot for TV" versions. As far as I know, they weren't too hot for tv, but at least they made sense online. Godaddy needs to get a real strategy. This one trick pony should be put out to pasture.
*I thought the cars.com commercial with the guy who had it all going his way showed a lot of promise, but the payoff was cars.com and that seemed like squat. Nothing like having your product come off as a disappointment to drive people to your site.
*I liked the John Elway twist at the end of the Heroes promo ad.
*The women at my party didn't seemed pleased with the talking flowers ad, but for my money it was right on. How can I buy boxed flowers now?
I don't really have a favorite ad this year, but the one that was just one stray alien tentacle away was the Alec Baldwin hulu.com ad. He had me until he became an alien. I was perfectly happy with a Baldwin sucking my media-addled brain, but as soon as he became otherworldly it had all gone too far.
It's a fine line. Or at least that's what I think.
What a game.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Brr- oh my gosh I need to stay inside for a little while
I don't see how I'm going to avoid getting a cold, I've been outside and usually sweating seven out of the last nine days. I don't have enough warm clothes to keep up this pace. I'm not sure I have enough muscle and joint power either. My skin feels a bit like it just wants to come off my bones. At least it does in the places where I'm not so tight that I feel like I need a jackhammer massage.
Yesterday and today were Ultimate and as much as it hurts, I do like Ultimate. I was playing in a double-header and except for the fatigue I feel like I found the groove I'd asked for.
My team got off to a slow start and we found ourselves down 5-0 very quickly. It was a little disappointing and I feel like I contributed to an early game flatness. We finally started to shake it off after that. One early moment stands out for me as I was cutting to the back corner with my defender on me. My teammate RB ripped off one of his wicked backhands down the line. The disc just seemed to hang in the air in front of us. The defender, who has also been a teammate in past seasons, and I gave chase. It seemed that we were stride for stride for several steps and the disc kept hanging. Finally, I found one more notch and managed to get to the disc before he did for a score. We battled back and forth and ended the half down 3-8. The second half saw SM come out strong with some good defense and some scoring punch. Then we became a different team. Much of the second half is a blur. I remember multiple battles with my former teammate including a layout D (I'm told), a layout bid on a disc that he D'd, a box out on a disc to him, and continuous battling on almost every cut we matched up. I had my own battles going on as the team slowly clawed back in. Our defense got a little better. Tipped discs started to go our way, including a wicked second-effort layout score by SM. As we were coming back, I do recall one moment that I'm particularly proud of in my second half. We'd been beat on a number of hammers across the field in the first half. The man I was guarding planted and cut for a hammer and I sensed it. He had a few steps on me to the break side, but I left my feet and knocked the disc away. I was starting to believe.
At 14-14 with universe point, I can't really remember what happened, but I know both teams had chances. Somehow our miraculous comeback ended in defeat. That's not the way the story is supposed to go and I'm not pleased with the ending.
We had a second game and although I think we let them hang around far too long, we were finally able to dispatch them 15-9. My favorite contribution in that game was a rare hammer. I saw RB with space in front of him, but I wasn't sure he saw it, so I faked the hammer. He headed for the space, so I let it go. I think the wind pushed it further than I would have liked, but fortunately he tracked it down for a score. Yee-haw. I also had at least two throws that were tapped by the defender land in my teammates' hands. Sometimes wrong things go right. I can't really figure out why or how that goes.
Today was practice. We had enough to play 7 versus 7. It sure would be nice if we could snag just a few more folks. The team had some good moments, but we just can't seem to get our vertical stack going. More practice, but for now, I'm spent.
I don't see how I'm going to avoid getting a cold, I've been outside and usually sweating seven out of the last nine days. I don't have enough warm clothes to keep up this pace. I'm not sure I have enough muscle and joint power either. My skin feels a bit like it just wants to come off my bones. At least it does in the places where I'm not so tight that I feel like I need a jackhammer massage.
Yesterday and today were Ultimate and as much as it hurts, I do like Ultimate. I was playing in a double-header and except for the fatigue I feel like I found the groove I'd asked for.
My team got off to a slow start and we found ourselves down 5-0 very quickly. It was a little disappointing and I feel like I contributed to an early game flatness. We finally started to shake it off after that. One early moment stands out for me as I was cutting to the back corner with my defender on me. My teammate RB ripped off one of his wicked backhands down the line. The disc just seemed to hang in the air in front of us. The defender, who has also been a teammate in past seasons, and I gave chase. It seemed that we were stride for stride for several steps and the disc kept hanging. Finally, I found one more notch and managed to get to the disc before he did for a score. We battled back and forth and ended the half down 3-8. The second half saw SM come out strong with some good defense and some scoring punch. Then we became a different team. Much of the second half is a blur. I remember multiple battles with my former teammate including a layout D (I'm told), a layout bid on a disc that he D'd, a box out on a disc to him, and continuous battling on almost every cut we matched up. I had my own battles going on as the team slowly clawed back in. Our defense got a little better. Tipped discs started to go our way, including a wicked second-effort layout score by SM. As we were coming back, I do recall one moment that I'm particularly proud of in my second half. We'd been beat on a number of hammers across the field in the first half. The man I was guarding planted and cut for a hammer and I sensed it. He had a few steps on me to the break side, but I left my feet and knocked the disc away. I was starting to believe.
At 14-14 with universe point, I can't really remember what happened, but I know both teams had chances. Somehow our miraculous comeback ended in defeat. That's not the way the story is supposed to go and I'm not pleased with the ending.
We had a second game and although I think we let them hang around far too long, we were finally able to dispatch them 15-9. My favorite contribution in that game was a rare hammer. I saw RB with space in front of him, but I wasn't sure he saw it, so I faked the hammer. He headed for the space, so I let it go. I think the wind pushed it further than I would have liked, but fortunately he tracked it down for a score. Yee-haw. I also had at least two throws that were tapped by the defender land in my teammates' hands. Sometimes wrong things go right. I can't really figure out why or how that goes.
Today was practice. We had enough to play 7 versus 7. It sure would be nice if we could snag just a few more folks. The team had some good moments, but we just can't seem to get our vertical stack going. More practice, but for now, I'm spent.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Brr- take 1.8 million
Used up packets of warmth littered the ground where people had stood and cheered. People had cheered everywhere. As far as I could see and two monuments beyond that, they had waved their flags and hooted at the swearing in of President 44. I was there. I was one of an estimated 1.8 million people witnessing history in the flesh. Although the flesh was mostly covered and the witnessing was mostly done on the fourth giant TV from the capitol. I estimate I was about 600,000 people away from the new President and 599,995 away from the last one. On the National Mall at 8 AM to grab such a coveted spot, I spent most of the morning waiting and watching giant TV. My favorite rerun moment was Garth Brooks asking me and all my patient flag-wavin', Obama-lovin', cold-catchin' pals to "Shout." Oh, we did. We shouted. We shouted like Garth could hear us. We shouted like we'd been standing all morning and we had nothing better to do. It was a revival atmosphere and Brooks was reviving.
My crowd, which was really only a small portion of the crowd, settled after that. Maybe the shouting took a little something out of us. Maybe we realized we better save our screaming lungs for 44. He was coming. I could tell because when my giant TV switched to live coverage they kept showing lines of black SUVs. Nothing says peaceful transition of power like a long line of armored SUVs escorted by motorcycle cops. The crowd would grow a little quieter. Breath would be inhaled a little bit slower. I thought Julie Andrews got out of one of the SUVs, but mostly I knew that 44 didn't get out and the crowd and I would return intently to our standing in place.
Finally, W and his brood showed up. I (and wikipedia tells me many others) had the idea that singing goodbye to Bush might feel good. Instead, when the boos and the shoes around me came out, I felt bad for the guy. After all, some of this was our fault. As one guy near me said, "He did make all of this possible."
What all of this is remains to be seen. The moment though was pretty amazing. I wanted to be able to hear all 1.8 million cheers, but I'll settle for the frantic flag waving. I'll settle for the powerful speech. I'll settle for the kindest crowd I've ever seen. There was a scary moment or two when everyone was trying to exit and no one seemed to agree on which way to go.
I went. I survived. It was another once in a lifetime experience. Just like the last one. Except different.
Used up packets of warmth littered the ground where people had stood and cheered. People had cheered everywhere. As far as I could see and two monuments beyond that, they had waved their flags and hooted at the swearing in of President 44. I was there. I was one of an estimated 1.8 million people witnessing history in the flesh. Although the flesh was mostly covered and the witnessing was mostly done on the fourth giant TV from the capitol. I estimate I was about 600,000 people away from the new President and 599,995 away from the last one. On the National Mall at 8 AM to grab such a coveted spot, I spent most of the morning waiting and watching giant TV. My favorite rerun moment was Garth Brooks asking me and all my patient flag-wavin', Obama-lovin', cold-catchin' pals to "Shout." Oh, we did. We shouted. We shouted like Garth could hear us. We shouted like we'd been standing all morning and we had nothing better to do. It was a revival atmosphere and Brooks was reviving.
My crowd, which was really only a small portion of the crowd, settled after that. Maybe the shouting took a little something out of us. Maybe we realized we better save our screaming lungs for 44. He was coming. I could tell because when my giant TV switched to live coverage they kept showing lines of black SUVs. Nothing says peaceful transition of power like a long line of armored SUVs escorted by motorcycle cops. The crowd would grow a little quieter. Breath would be inhaled a little bit slower. I thought Julie Andrews got out of one of the SUVs, but mostly I knew that 44 didn't get out and the crowd and I would return intently to our standing in place.
Finally, W and his brood showed up. I (and wikipedia tells me many others) had the idea that singing goodbye to Bush might feel good. Instead, when the boos and the shoes around me came out, I felt bad for the guy. After all, some of this was our fault. As one guy near me said, "He did make all of this possible."
What all of this is remains to be seen. The moment though was pretty amazing. I wanted to be able to hear all 1.8 million cheers, but I'll settle for the frantic flag waving. I'll settle for the powerful speech. I'll settle for the kindest crowd I've ever seen. There was a scary moment or two when everyone was trying to exit and no one seemed to agree on which way to go.
I went. I survived. It was another once in a lifetime experience. Just like the last one. Except different.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Brr... take 1
It's so cold this morning that while reading a book, I couldn't fathom how people could be outside hanging around. It seemed impossible until I realized the story was set in June in Illinois. What a day for an Ultimate game. With four solid layers, ski goggles, gloves, and a condensation-catching beard in full effect, I took the field with my winter league team. We started slowly, chilled to the bone, but then seemed to warm up. There were a few nice moments, some big grabs, but mostly we seemed to be doing the little things right, or at least righter. I continue to throw away discs that I want back, even with the gloves on. The one that slammed right into that guy's hand for instance, or the inside out flick that just kept drifting. I handled some, which never feels quite right, and quietly worked against my opponents on defense. The huck and then play defense strategy seemed to work well for us. I never really found my rhythm, but one good thing about being on a team is that some days that doesn't matter. Even without the beat, we managed to take more than we gave away and others managed to finish the business as it needed finishing. I think I caught one score, but even that one felt like I was running on ice and over-thinking.
Last weekend, I felt like I was three weeks into a season that had just begun. This week, I felt behind the curve. Maybe next week it will all gel together. Twice in a doubleheader. I'm asking a lot, but it seems worth asking.
It's so cold this morning that while reading a book, I couldn't fathom how people could be outside hanging around. It seemed impossible until I realized the story was set in June in Illinois. What a day for an Ultimate game. With four solid layers, ski goggles, gloves, and a condensation-catching beard in full effect, I took the field with my winter league team. We started slowly, chilled to the bone, but then seemed to warm up. There were a few nice moments, some big grabs, but mostly we seemed to be doing the little things right, or at least righter. I continue to throw away discs that I want back, even with the gloves on. The one that slammed right into that guy's hand for instance, or the inside out flick that just kept drifting. I handled some, which never feels quite right, and quietly worked against my opponents on defense. The huck and then play defense strategy seemed to work well for us. I never really found my rhythm, but one good thing about being on a team is that some days that doesn't matter. Even without the beat, we managed to take more than we gave away and others managed to finish the business as it needed finishing. I think I caught one score, but even that one felt like I was running on ice and over-thinking.
Last weekend, I felt like I was three weeks into a season that had just begun. This week, I felt behind the curve. Maybe next week it will all gel together. Twice in a doubleheader. I'm asking a lot, but it seems worth asking.
Friday, January 16, 2009
The price of stupidity is high
The easy "rental" of a Zipcar has been my pal on numerous occasions over the last two years. Cars have always been stocked and ready to go at most any time I had a need. Today was no different. Just ten minutes before I was to head out the door, I reached for my wallet and found that the all important key to my Zipcar success was missing. I searched through my wallet and my pockets but never found the card that opens the doors and lets me go about my merry car-free existence. Flummoxed and approaching the point of no return, I searched to see if a bus would get me to my off-site work destination. No dice. At best, I would be 20 minutes late. I darted out the door and headed for the taxi stand. There was no frantic arm waving, just heavy breath hanging in the air.
The taxi got me to my destination for less than I had expected to pay, but factor in the already-reserved zipcar and my trip was a hefty 8 dollars a mile. Ouch.
I found my card in a pocket of another jacket when I got home. The card was jammed back into my wallet for another ride some other day.
The easy "rental" of a Zipcar has been my pal on numerous occasions over the last two years. Cars have always been stocked and ready to go at most any time I had a need. Today was no different. Just ten minutes before I was to head out the door, I reached for my wallet and found that the all important key to my Zipcar success was missing. I searched through my wallet and my pockets but never found the card that opens the doors and lets me go about my merry car-free existence. Flummoxed and approaching the point of no return, I searched to see if a bus would get me to my off-site work destination. No dice. At best, I would be 20 minutes late. I darted out the door and headed for the taxi stand. There was no frantic arm waving, just heavy breath hanging in the air.
The taxi got me to my destination for less than I had expected to pay, but factor in the already-reserved zipcar and my trip was a hefty 8 dollars a mile. Ouch.
I found my card in a pocket of another jacket when I got home. The card was jammed back into my wallet for another ride some other day.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Aw, that felt good
Winter league started yesterday. We somehow managed to skirt the "winter" weather. In a field with holes, sprinkler heads, and some gravel, I should probably feel lucky I didn't hurt myself. I feel luckier than that.
I arrived at the fields almost 45 minutes before game time with a foolish belief that our game might start on time. I warmed up with the dynamic stretching that we've been doing at Catholic. I wanted to practice what I preached. It felt good and I felt warm. I was ready to play when game time finally rolled around. In the first two points, I'd layed out for two D's and snagged a score. Some have argued that the second layout may have been showy, but I swear their speed demon of a woman had a shot at it. Our team jumped out to an early lead, but the momentum shifted back the other way. We battled back and forth until half, before finally taking control, at least mostly. We let the other team creep back in to within 2 after being up 11-7, but we managed to put them away. I had one more grab that I'm pretty proud of. I stumbled into a hole and I watched as the disc floated above me. Thinking that I would tumble to the ground, I was surprised when I found a bit of footing. The disc was still hanging, so I lunged with my left hand and made the grab for a score. I also had one throw that I think I'm proud of. I was on the sideline, the dump cut went to the line, but wasn't open. I wanted the score (I did have trouble holstering my throws all day), and as the dump continued along the line, I stepped out, then was forced further out by my mark. I managed to put up a loopy outside in flick that came right down in the receiver's path. Yeah.
The coolest part of the day, other than just being out there playing and having some success was to be able to feel some upper body strength. I've been working out for the last four weeks or so, and I really felt stronger. Too bad, I felt like I'd lost a bit of endurance. Soon, I hope to be firing on all cylinders.
Winter league started yesterday. We somehow managed to skirt the "winter" weather. In a field with holes, sprinkler heads, and some gravel, I should probably feel lucky I didn't hurt myself. I feel luckier than that.
I arrived at the fields almost 45 minutes before game time with a foolish belief that our game might start on time. I warmed up with the dynamic stretching that we've been doing at Catholic. I wanted to practice what I preached. It felt good and I felt warm. I was ready to play when game time finally rolled around. In the first two points, I'd layed out for two D's and snagged a score. Some have argued that the second layout may have been showy, but I swear their speed demon of a woman had a shot at it. Our team jumped out to an early lead, but the momentum shifted back the other way. We battled back and forth until half, before finally taking control, at least mostly. We let the other team creep back in to within 2 after being up 11-7, but we managed to put them away. I had one more grab that I'm pretty proud of. I stumbled into a hole and I watched as the disc floated above me. Thinking that I would tumble to the ground, I was surprised when I found a bit of footing. The disc was still hanging, so I lunged with my left hand and made the grab for a score. I also had one throw that I think I'm proud of. I was on the sideline, the dump cut went to the line, but wasn't open. I wanted the score (I did have trouble holstering my throws all day), and as the dump continued along the line, I stepped out, then was forced further out by my mark. I managed to put up a loopy outside in flick that came right down in the receiver's path. Yeah.
The coolest part of the day, other than just being out there playing and having some success was to be able to feel some upper body strength. I've been working out for the last four weeks or so, and I really felt stronger. Too bad, I felt like I'd lost a bit of endurance. Soon, I hope to be firing on all cylinders.
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
Raindrops on whiskers and warm woolen kittens
Hovering a few degrees above freezing, it rains. I do not like this weather. It's too cold to wear my raincoat and it's not cold enough to turn to fluffy white goodness. The umbrella, my umbrella, unfolds with such enthusiasm like it misses me and needs a hug, but I can't. Umbrellas are space invaders and not the arcade kind. Sidewalks, escalators, personal bubbles do not take into account two umbrellas passing in the dreary night. One must bend. "Good evening, kind sir," it bows failing at its one job for a moment to pay respect to the higher class. The bulbs pass and return to attention, an umbrella in service. All fine and good, except that I'm wet.
Fortuitously, or with great inner fortitude, I don't feel the raindrops that collect in the mass of hair on my chin. I'll have to dry them later, but for now I'll celebrate my natural balaclava. It has more powers than water resistance it seems. In a weaving, billowing sort of way, it also has the power to bring out true feeling. I know this because today a coworker dropped in and as we were discussing our holidays happened to mention that she didn't like my beard. The subtlety of her comment could have been missed by some, but "I don't like it," hit a chord with me. "It makes you look older," she continued. There may have been some light backtracking after that, but I missed most of it. As I reflect on this statement and sometimes stare at my own reflection, I have to wonder a few things. First of all, why isn't facial hair afforded the same consideration as weight, fashion or hair style? I don't know of very many coworkers who would just come out and say such a thing about a new haircut. I've always thought that I admired the blunt reaction, but I've come to realize that some things can probably go unsaid. "That shirt makes you look like a killer whale," might be one of them. I'll keep thinking on it to be sure. And also listen to The Beards. They like it.
Hovering a few degrees above freezing, it rains. I do not like this weather. It's too cold to wear my raincoat and it's not cold enough to turn to fluffy white goodness. The umbrella, my umbrella, unfolds with such enthusiasm like it misses me and needs a hug, but I can't. Umbrellas are space invaders and not the arcade kind. Sidewalks, escalators, personal bubbles do not take into account two umbrellas passing in the dreary night. One must bend. "Good evening, kind sir," it bows failing at its one job for a moment to pay respect to the higher class. The bulbs pass and return to attention, an umbrella in service. All fine and good, except that I'm wet.
Fortuitously, or with great inner fortitude, I don't feel the raindrops that collect in the mass of hair on my chin. I'll have to dry them later, but for now I'll celebrate my natural balaclava. It has more powers than water resistance it seems. In a weaving, billowing sort of way, it also has the power to bring out true feeling. I know this because today a coworker dropped in and as we were discussing our holidays happened to mention that she didn't like my beard. The subtlety of her comment could have been missed by some, but "I don't like it," hit a chord with me. "It makes you look older," she continued. There may have been some light backtracking after that, but I missed most of it. As I reflect on this statement and sometimes stare at my own reflection, I have to wonder a few things. First of all, why isn't facial hair afforded the same consideration as weight, fashion or hair style? I don't know of very many coworkers who would just come out and say such a thing about a new haircut. I've always thought that I admired the blunt reaction, but I've come to realize that some things can probably go unsaid. "That shirt makes you look like a killer whale," might be one of them. I'll keep thinking on it to be sure. And also listen to The Beards. They like it.
Thursday, January 01, 2009
On we run
I had tasted victory and I liked it. As detailed in this space, I won a 6k about a month ago. Victory was nice, but the races I tend to enter have little fanfare- no prizes, hundreds of people, no spectators, and so I try to keep the glory and the not-so-glory in perspective. I suppose any contest belongs in some context and comes down in one way or another to who shows up that day. In that sense, I shouldn't belittle the accomplishment and I don't mean to. I guess in some way I'm trying to explain that internally I've found my need, that pure burning desire to win, has waned some. Today though, as I begin a new year, I have to wonder if it's just become a competing priority as I toed the starting line of my 2nd annual New Year's Day 5k.
With a little prodding from my past self, I toed the starting line and prepared a return to the victor's proverbial stand. From go, I was fighting to be one of the leaders. My fight was short-lived as two gentlemen left me in the dust. I fought on in third, crossing the mile in a time like the day 5:28 and brisk. As we climbed a slight hill, my focus remained on second place. The chill wind was freezing my hand and I soon found myself alone on the course. The same lessons repeat themselves in race after race, a fast start is a dangerous gamble. I had two things going for me. First, this was my distance, the 5k, so I knew what I was into. Second, I've been working on my upper body more lately and that has given me some kick in the past. I think I also carried a confidence that may have been a liability.
As I fell further out of touch with second place, I began to look over my shoulder. That's never a good sign. My friend and another seemed to be gaining on me. I tried to hold them off, but with about half-mile to go they passed me. I fought on and tucked in with them for a moment as the finish line approached. I had visions of a daring finish. I kicked hard and caught one competitor as my friend pulled slightly away. After only a few steps the effort proved to be too much for me this morning. The speed may be there from the strength training, but it didn't last. Something was missing. I have some theories, one being "some days are like that." I finished in fifth at 17:40. That's 15 seconds slower than last year. Maybe 2009 can be a year with room for improvement.
Some interesting (to me) post-race notes- I think that being able to discuss races with my friend afterwards shift the dynamic of my racing. It means that I think more in terms of what I need to improve and it also allows me to recall some very fond high school memories. It's a really special thing and if I can nurture it, I think it could very well lead to improvement this year. GO '09.
I had tasted victory and I liked it. As detailed in this space, I won a 6k about a month ago. Victory was nice, but the races I tend to enter have little fanfare- no prizes, hundreds of people, no spectators, and so I try to keep the glory and the not-so-glory in perspective. I suppose any contest belongs in some context and comes down in one way or another to who shows up that day. In that sense, I shouldn't belittle the accomplishment and I don't mean to. I guess in some way I'm trying to explain that internally I've found my need, that pure burning desire to win, has waned some. Today though, as I begin a new year, I have to wonder if it's just become a competing priority as I toed the starting line of my 2nd annual New Year's Day 5k.
With a little prodding from my past self, I toed the starting line and prepared a return to the victor's proverbial stand. From go, I was fighting to be one of the leaders. My fight was short-lived as two gentlemen left me in the dust. I fought on in third, crossing the mile in a time like the day 5:28 and brisk. As we climbed a slight hill, my focus remained on second place. The chill wind was freezing my hand and I soon found myself alone on the course. The same lessons repeat themselves in race after race, a fast start is a dangerous gamble. I had two things going for me. First, this was my distance, the 5k, so I knew what I was into. Second, I've been working on my upper body more lately and that has given me some kick in the past. I think I also carried a confidence that may have been a liability.
As I fell further out of touch with second place, I began to look over my shoulder. That's never a good sign. My friend and another seemed to be gaining on me. I tried to hold them off, but with about half-mile to go they passed me. I fought on and tucked in with them for a moment as the finish line approached. I had visions of a daring finish. I kicked hard and caught one competitor as my friend pulled slightly away. After only a few steps the effort proved to be too much for me this morning. The speed may be there from the strength training, but it didn't last. Something was missing. I have some theories, one being "some days are like that." I finished in fifth at 17:40. That's 15 seconds slower than last year. Maybe 2009 can be a year with room for improvement.
Some interesting (to me) post-race notes- I think that being able to discuss races with my friend afterwards shift the dynamic of my racing. It means that I think more in terms of what I need to improve and it also allows me to recall some very fond high school memories. It's a really special thing and if I can nurture it, I think it could very well lead to improvement this year. GO '09.
Books of 2008
I set a lofty goal for myself for reading in 2008. I wanted to read 5 books a month, 60 for the year. I pushed and I struggled and I read a few short ones and was on pace through August. It was challenging for me because it required me to plan ahead. I had to know what I was going to read next before I was through with the book in my lap. I was a regular visitor to the library and bookstores. I misfired at least twice and had to give up well before I could finish. My priorities shifted in September and the months got away from me. I was back on pace for December, but finished at 49 books completed. I'm three-fourths of the way through a book of F. Scott Fitzgerald short stories that would have put me at 50, but I just couldn't do it. Something about shooting for the moon and landing among George W. goes here. Here are the books I read in 2008:
1. The Happiness Myth: Why What we think is Right is Wrong
2. He's just not that into you
3. Early Bird: a memoir of premature retirement
4. Something Wicked this way comes
5. Freakonomics
6. Friendship: An Expose
7. I Am America (And so can you!)
8. Animal Dreams
9. Taft
10. Born Standing Up: A comic's life
11. Slam
12. Love is a mix tape
13. Candy Girl: A Year in the Life of An Unlikely Stripper
14. Last Night at the Lobster
15. Everything is Illuminated
16. 1984 (reread)
17. The Little Prince
18. The Group
19. Unaccustomed Earth
20. Kiss & Tell
21. The Relationship Cure
22. Prodigal Summer
23. Who Moved My Cheese?
24. Raising the Bar: Integrity and Passion in Life and Business: The Story of Clif Bar & Co.
25. Snuff
26. The Quiet Girl
27. Then We Came to the End
28. No one belongs here more than you
29. The Golden Compass
30. The Subtle Knife
31. The Amber Spyglass
32. If you could see me now
33. The Five People you Meet in Heaven
34. Playing for Pizza
35. The Poisonwood Bible
36. I was told there'd be cake
37. The Feast of Love
38. Dave Barry's History of the Millennium (so far)
39. What I talk about when I talk about running
40. The Natural
41. Life After Man
42. Pigs in Heaven
43. Buying In
44. Paris to the Moon
45. Hooking Up
46. Outliers
47. Unbreakable You
48. Me of Little Faith
49. Leadership 101
My favorites were Unaccustomed Earth and Prodigal Summer. In negative news, I think I'm going to stop reading comedy books by comedians.
I set a lofty goal for myself for reading in 2008. I wanted to read 5 books a month, 60 for the year. I pushed and I struggled and I read a few short ones and was on pace through August. It was challenging for me because it required me to plan ahead. I had to know what I was going to read next before I was through with the book in my lap. I was a regular visitor to the library and bookstores. I misfired at least twice and had to give up well before I could finish. My priorities shifted in September and the months got away from me. I was back on pace for December, but finished at 49 books completed. I'm three-fourths of the way through a book of F. Scott Fitzgerald short stories that would have put me at 50, but I just couldn't do it. Something about shooting for the moon and landing among George W. goes here. Here are the books I read in 2008:
1. The Happiness Myth: Why What we think is Right is Wrong
2. He's just not that into you
3. Early Bird: a memoir of premature retirement
4. Something Wicked this way comes
5. Freakonomics
6. Friendship: An Expose
7. I Am America (And so can you!)
8. Animal Dreams
9. Taft
10. Born Standing Up: A comic's life
11. Slam
12. Love is a mix tape
13. Candy Girl: A Year in the Life of An Unlikely Stripper
14. Last Night at the Lobster
15. Everything is Illuminated
16. 1984 (reread)
17. The Little Prince
18. The Group
19. Unaccustomed Earth
20. Kiss & Tell
21. The Relationship Cure
22. Prodigal Summer
23. Who Moved My Cheese?
24. Raising the Bar: Integrity and Passion in Life and Business: The Story of Clif Bar & Co.
25. Snuff
26. The Quiet Girl
27. Then We Came to the End
28. No one belongs here more than you
29. The Golden Compass
30. The Subtle Knife
31. The Amber Spyglass
32. If you could see me now
33. The Five People you Meet in Heaven
34. Playing for Pizza
35. The Poisonwood Bible
36. I was told there'd be cake
37. The Feast of Love
38. Dave Barry's History of the Millennium (so far)
39. What I talk about when I talk about running
40. The Natural
41. Life After Man
42. Pigs in Heaven
43. Buying In
44. Paris to the Moon
45. Hooking Up
46. Outliers
47. Unbreakable You
48. Me of Little Faith
49. Leadership 101
My favorites were Unaccustomed Earth and Prodigal Summer. In negative news, I think I'm going to stop reading comedy books by comedians.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Movies 2008
Netflix entered my life in force this year...
1. Enchanted
2. D.E.B.S
3. The Thomas Crown Affair (1968)
4. Chariots of Fire
5. Berkley in the Sixties
6. North by Northwest
7. Casa de los Babys
8. The Spirit of the Marathon
9. Secretary
10. 27 dresses
11. Atonement
12. Definitely, Maybe
13. LA Haine
14. I think I love my wife
15. Brokeback Mountain
16. The Pursuit of Happyness
17. The Ten
18. Charlie Bartlett
19. The Simpsons Movie
20. Persopolis
21. The Prestige
22. The Darjeeling Limited
23. Dan in Real Life
24. Becoming Jane
25. Alvin and the Chipmunks
26. The Hours
27. American Flyers
28. Roger Dodger
29. I'm a Cyborg, but that's ok
30. Smart People
31. Swing Time
32. Southland Tales
33. Lars and the Real Girl
34. Iron Man
35. Raging Bull
36. No Blood for Oil
37. P.S. I love you
38. Forgetting Sarah Marshall
39. Into the Wild
40. Music Within
41. Sex & The City
42. The Hustler
43. The Holiday
44. The Greatest Game Ever Played
45. American Teen
46. The Other Boleyn Girl
47. Better Off Dead
48. Saint Ralph
49. Cash Back
50. Pistol: Birth of a Legend
51. August Rush
52. 4 months, 3 weeks, 2 days
53. 21
54. Without Limits
55. Son of Rambow
56. Prefontaine (review)
57. The Duchess
58. Burn After Reading
59. School for Scoundrels
60. Body of Lies
61. Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day
62. Against the Ropes
63. Good Luck Chuck
64. Be Kind, Rewind
65. Rachel Getting Married
66. The Aviator
67. The Departed
68. Tenacious D and the Pick of Destiny
69. Slumdog Millionaire
70. Charlie Wilson's War
71. Seven Pounds
72. Hancock
73. Harold and Maude
74. Opportunity Knocks (review)
I would say Atonement and Lars and The Real Girl were my favorite movies this year. I'm a Cyborg, but that's ok was memorable for sure. Spirit of the Marathon gets a special mention because it was part of and helped recall a great experience.
Netflix entered my life in force this year...
1. Enchanted
2. D.E.B.S
3. The Thomas Crown Affair (1968)
4. Chariots of Fire
5. Berkley in the Sixties
6. North by Northwest
7. Casa de los Babys
8. The Spirit of the Marathon
9. Secretary
10. 27 dresses
11. Atonement
12. Definitely, Maybe
13. LA Haine
14. I think I love my wife
15. Brokeback Mountain
16. The Pursuit of Happyness
17. The Ten
18. Charlie Bartlett
19. The Simpsons Movie
20. Persopolis
21. The Prestige
22. The Darjeeling Limited
23. Dan in Real Life
24. Becoming Jane
25. Alvin and the Chipmunks
26. The Hours
27. American Flyers
28. Roger Dodger
29. I'm a Cyborg, but that's ok
30. Smart People
31. Swing Time
32. Southland Tales
33. Lars and the Real Girl
34. Iron Man
35. Raging Bull
36. No Blood for Oil
37. P.S. I love you
38. Forgetting Sarah Marshall
39. Into the Wild
40. Music Within
41. Sex & The City
42. The Hustler
43. The Holiday
44. The Greatest Game Ever Played
45. American Teen
46. The Other Boleyn Girl
47. Better Off Dead
48. Saint Ralph
49. Cash Back
50. Pistol: Birth of a Legend
51. August Rush
52. 4 months, 3 weeks, 2 days
53. 21
54. Without Limits
55. Son of Rambow
56. Prefontaine (review)
57. The Duchess
58. Burn After Reading
59. School for Scoundrels
60. Body of Lies
61. Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day
62. Against the Ropes
63. Good Luck Chuck
64. Be Kind, Rewind
65. Rachel Getting Married
66. The Aviator
67. The Departed
68. Tenacious D and the Pick of Destiny
69. Slumdog Millionaire
70. Charlie Wilson's War
71. Seven Pounds
72. Hancock
73. Harold and Maude
74. Opportunity Knocks (review)
I would say Atonement and Lars and The Real Girl were my favorite movies this year. I'm a Cyborg, but that's ok was memorable for sure. Spirit of the Marathon gets a special mention because it was part of and helped recall a great experience.
The Midas remote control
You've seen Click and read up on your Greek mythology, but if you'll indulge me for just one moment, I'll tell you about the time my remote control was pure gold. Literally. Except, not literally at all.
Last night, I found myself stumbling around the digital air waves. (What are these now? They aren't air waves, are they? Where do we stumble when we're flipping channels; why it's not even a flip anymore, maybe a blip...) In a New York minute, I can never remember if those are fast or slow, but I want the fast ones here, I went from having nothing to watch and very little meaning in my Monday evening to having three sporting events that I cared passionately about. When I say passionately here, I mean the sort of passion that one might feel for his third favorite pair of pants- that's the passion I'm talking about. First, I found Georgetown upsetting Connecticut in some Big East basketball. I don't know when I became a Georgetown fan exactly, but I think it happened. It might be because they are good and nearby, some sort of beacon of awesome or something. Between channel blipping, I found that G-town was able to hold off Connecticut for the victory. Yay! recently adopted team. Then, through the telepathy of ESPN and the rippling facebook status updates, I found that Missouri was battling the vastly inferior except when they weren't which was like all night Northwestern team. Missouri escaped with a victory. All right. That actually concluded after the Washington Wizards went on their first winning streak of the season. These 2 recent victories bring their record to 6-23. Needless to say, that's been fun to cheer for.
All of this through the magic of my remote control. And I want to get rid of cable...
You've seen Click and read up on your Greek mythology, but if you'll indulge me for just one moment, I'll tell you about the time my remote control was pure gold. Literally. Except, not literally at all.
Last night, I found myself stumbling around the digital air waves. (What are these now? They aren't air waves, are they? Where do we stumble when we're flipping channels; why it's not even a flip anymore, maybe a blip...) In a New York minute, I can never remember if those are fast or slow, but I want the fast ones here, I went from having nothing to watch and very little meaning in my Monday evening to having three sporting events that I cared passionately about. When I say passionately here, I mean the sort of passion that one might feel for his third favorite pair of pants- that's the passion I'm talking about. First, I found Georgetown upsetting Connecticut in some Big East basketball. I don't know when I became a Georgetown fan exactly, but I think it happened. It might be because they are good and nearby, some sort of beacon of awesome or something. Between channel blipping, I found that G-town was able to hold off Connecticut for the victory. Yay! recently adopted team. Then, through the telepathy of ESPN and the rippling facebook status updates, I found that Missouri was battling the vastly inferior except when they weren't which was like all night Northwestern team. Missouri escaped with a victory. All right. That actually concluded after the Washington Wizards went on their first winning streak of the season. These 2 recent victories bring their record to 6-23. Needless to say, that's been fun to cheer for.
All of this through the magic of my remote control. And I want to get rid of cable...
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