ultimate frisbee day

I've made much progress in the office lately so I'm treating myself to an early release from the office and participate in a game of ultimate frisbee. Although I hardly ever get to touch the frisbee when I play I do enjoy running around pretending like I know what I'm doing. I found that the figure-eight is the best pattern to run...but it has to be a sufficiently big enough figure-eight, otherwise it just looks funny and people will catch on and take advantage of your novice-level ultimate frisbee incompetence. By chance they do catch on, change your pattern to something like a figure-O pattern. Again, it has to be a sufficiently big figure-O, otherwise you'll look lost out there literally running in small circles. The majority of the ultimate frisbee players seem to be from the local Chinese church. They're a youthful bunch. Most of the time I feel like a race horse that is out-matched by every other race horse. But although I am a little older and a lot slower, all it takes is for me to get a glimpse of your eye, then I can take off like the wind leaving you choking on my trail of dust, just like SeaBiscuit. Unfortunately this increased level of performance only lasts for a few seconds, which is very unlike SeaBiscuit. But then again SeaBiscuit got to wear horse shoes. I don't know why I feel like SeaBiscuit today. Maybe it's the weather we're having right now, the kind that precedes almost every thunderstorm in Texas. Maybe it's the chinese food I had for lunch. Or maybe it's because I'm wearing a tie. Or maybe it's because I'm two hours away from running around with other race horses. What ever it is it's an inspiration. I think every woman, man, and child has a SeaBiscuit inside them somewhere. I'm still trying to teach mine to be a horse again.

something new

Today, a Saturday, at work, a coworker brought a 6-pack of beer I've never seen nor tasted.

I'm having one and it tastes nice. It even has a unique bottle shape to it.

 

Negra Modelo, imported straight from Mexico.

next chapter please

No thing or body on this planet is perfect. It is so true and thus so transparent, sometimes to the point of being painfully obvious. Consequentially you can not ask of any thing or any body (any person) to be perfect. It is for all practical purposes impossible. We all make mistakes. Some more than others. And some even more still. This chapter will always be a mixed bag of joy, sorrow, and confusion. O how I wish this chapter ended with a happier song!

i suppose it's now time to turn the page and keep reading.