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.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
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.
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