No Kickball for Me
Some of the kids at work are hosting a kickball game today. I'd love to play, I really would, nothing really beats kickball, you know? But despite playing hockey 3-5 times a week for the last few years, it seems that the only time I get injured is when I'm not playing hockey (e.g. the Shaving Cream can on the edge of the foot incident, last week's jumping off a rope swing only to hit the water face first, resulting in a bloody fat lip and a nice bruise, spraining my ankle three different times when walking off stairs or just walking in the gym, etc., etc.).

Given all that and the fact that we're leaving for a tournament tomorrow, I'm not going to play. But I'd really like to. Because you can't beat kickball.

Full Circle
Tomorrow morning, we leave for Phoenix so I can play my last tournament of the season with the Seals. A year ago, I took my ragtag little team, Code Red, and we sucked ass. Lost every game and never really came together as a team. I guess I wasn't as good at assembling personalities as I thought I was. There was a lot of in-fighting among the team and way too much drinking.

Some of the crap that happened there, on and off the ice, set off a chain of events that had a seriously negative impact on my life last summer, and indirectly, led to some shit that was even worse, bad, icky stuff that I may never be fully able to leave behind.

All that stuff has changed me, made me stronger and yet, weaker. Although I understand the value in conquering adversity, really, last year from May on was simply too much for one short period of time. I know they say that God (or whoever) only tosses you way as much shit as you can handle in one day, but there were far too many days where I thought, no, this is way more than a day's worth. There are days when I still think that.

So we're going back, Andrea and I. Together, stronger, more secure in so many things. Of course, the Seals are a much tighter team than Code Red. At this point, we have two first place finishes under our belts and I know I'd like to take a good stab at a third, if to do nothing else than erase some of the ghosts that the word Phoenix brings up in our house.

The Class That Never Ends
Last night my Rec class had our final meeting. Instead of 6-8:45 pm, we were supposed to go from 6-10 so everyone could do their presentations for the class. One thing led to another and we ended up being there until almost 11 pm. I squeaked out an A- on my Lit. Review, which is good. I learned that the university is basically forcing my advisor, my hero, to retire RIGHT NOW. Last night was probably her last class ever and we didn't have a chance to say good bye.

Thanks to Gov. Ahnold for that particular budget cut.

Blast From the Past
Because it irritates the hell out of me that Yahoo puts a limit on how many times my old site can be accessed, I have finally moved this little slice of 1997 to my own site, where you may view it all you like. Some crap is still broken but the tacky animated gifs are all working properly for your viewing pleasure.

What's not to like?

Just When I Think it's Safe
I find pages like this, filled with pictures like these:
Yeah, I still miss her. I think I always will.

Continuing Shoulder Drama
If yuu don't want to read about pain or suffering, read no further. However, if you have a morbid fascination with other people's pain, you're at the right place.

The thing with my shoulder is entering it's sixth month. Some days it doesn't bother me at all, but the thing that seems to do it the most harm is playing goalie. We all know that playing goalie is something I'm still not sure I like, something I'm really not any good at, but I am not ready to give it up, especially not for something as silly as an injury. So I had a say in demoting myself in the women's league, in the hope that the slower pace of the green games would give me time to set up for the shots and that the pain would be kept to a minimum.

Last night, Dana and I got stuck in traffic (it's a curse. We spent the entire Seals season sitting still or inching along the 38 long miles between San Jose and Oakland. It only makes sense that we'd get stuck going to Belmont, too) and were 20 minutes late to practice. Lucky for me, I'm getting good at getting dressed in the car.

Even with 20 fewer minutes playing goalie, I still managed to F up my shoulder during the practice. Jan was trying to stuff it in at my foot, with one Nette on either side of the net, waiting for her pass. I didn't let it in at the corner, it squirted across the goal line and I got it, by golly I got it, using my stick to get it out of the crease. Hurting my shoulder in the process.

Shitshitshitshitshit.

I get my MRI next Tuesday. At this point I think my best hope is for some better painkillers and physical therapy. Here's hoping it's just tendonitis.

After yesterdays's Grand Adventure at the vet, it wasn't very long before the vet called to tell us that the lump in Rainie's belly is just a fatty too-mah. We're to watch it for unexpected growth but it's allegedly harmless. Phew.

Gus was mighty pissed that we left him at home alone, but when I got back with the merry band of hound dogs, he was snoozing away, face pressed up against the window, enjoying his bachelorhood.

Late last night, Zeus went outside, then promptly came back in, sneezing like a madman. Instantly concerned about foxtails, I got off my ass (yes, at like midnight, when I was pretty much exhausted from working all day then playing goalie at practice, where I once again managed to mangle my shoulder) and went outside to pull every foxtail in the backyard. Andrea came and helped, eventually I think we got them all.

For now I'll ignore the fact that pretty much all of the grass in the yard has died. It's really time to pave the thing over, as attractive as that would be.

A little late, but here it is. The Oakland Seals, International Champions!

After that letter from the Great Rob, fiction teacher to the stars, I shall rename today, May 24, 2004, as The Day I First Realized I Could Pull Off Writing a Novel.

Thank you, thank you.

Got my fiction portfolio back, it includes the highest compliments I could hope to get from my teacher, Rob, Fiction Teacher to the Stars. Let me be boastful and share them here:
"Dear Liz," (that's me)
You just continue to improve and I couldn't be more pleased. The story -- that long, complex account of a life, is coming together as fiction and that's the goal. I look forward, if I get the chance, to see what you've done with Carol and the others. (aside: I think Carol is no longer with us, but the others very much are. I won't bring Carol back until he's really fiction. Right now he's just a sad, angry caricature of a man I once knew, and that's sort of lame.) It seems they have come to life, become their own characters separate from the people you know...You're leaving the raw material of personal life (often less interesting to others than to us) and exploring the vast world of the interior landscape, and you do it with humor and honesty. Fantastic work.

I'm back!
Back from a wonderful 5 days with family. I saw the sights of a lovely town in Tennessee, and more importantly, had the chance to just hang out with some people I adore. I could share the funny parts of the trip (the parade full of Shriners, the shining sea of mullets, the ten people who made up the entire contingent of 'gay day' at Dollywood) but the thing that matters most is the people.

It was great, wonderful, amazing, sweet. Each moment added up to a tremendous gift that some people look their whole lives for and still never find.

Thanks for having me. Next time, I promise to not make as many bad smells or tasteless jokes.