Since apparently the other team captain never called ours back to reschedule the game that was called due to stupidity, our soccer season ended today.  In a pretty serious loss, but we’ll glibly gloss right over that.

I figured a few months ago when my friend Andrew asked if I was interested in playing on a team with a bunch of other bartenders and bar regulars, it’d be a good idea because at least I wouldn’t be the only one smoking on the sidelines at halftime.  As the season progressed, though, I realized that I was actually enjoying the game and the people that I play with and against — it’s not nearly as competitive and testosterone-bloated as the games I was playing ten years ago, when I decided that I was too old and not nearly competitive enough to be playing anymore.

Not to mention the fact that I got in better shape faster than I expected.  I still won’t be running a marathon anytime soon, but my endurance came back so that — in spite of a pulled quad muscle that I really shouldn’t have run on today like I did — I lasted about 60 minutes of the 90 without hurting for air (or passing out, or vomiting, etc.).  It’s a good feeling, and I’m hoping to do enough this summer so that when the next season begins (Labor Day, I think), I’ll be ready to play the full 90 at closer to top speed.

It’s good to be back.  As long as I don’t do something to myself that makes me regret not having health insurance…

There’s a truth that funerals should be occasions to celebrate the lives of the deceased. There’s a greater importance, though, in celebrating the lives of those that are still here (or that got left behind, if you prefer). They are the ones that have to carry on, that have to adjust to lives with new holes that may never be filled.

One of my best friends has had to deal with more than his fair share of loss in the past year, and at an age that no one should have to face a single death, much less multiples. And while I grieve for those who have left us, and miss them, it is him that I feel the most for, as I watch him struggle to heal and move on and continue to do what the others cannot: live.

No-Man’s new CD Schoolyard Ghosts happened by coincidence to arrive in my mailbox today, and it couldn’t have been more fitting:

you survived another winter.
you survived where nothing grew.

the days felt cold and never changing,
so you just slept the whole way through.

when you think about the future,
it’s like the past, but hard and small.

an old idea you stole from someone.
a borrowed dream that’s born to fall.

—————————-

take a taxi through the snow
tell them you love them,
don’t let go.

through the tunnel moving slow,
tonight’s there’s nowhere
you won’t go.

you survived yourself.
you survived inside the lost world.
the dreams of love repeat.

subways sing with heated calls –
the g-string sirens walking tall.
summer fires turn winter dreams.
an old romantic’s hotshot schemes.

you survived yourself.
you survived inside the lost world.
the ghosts of harm retreat.

—————————-

sweet surrender to the night.
sweet surrender to the light.
the dreams of love repeat.

Celebrate the lives of those around you today, and celebrate your own life before there are holes of your own that you have to deal with.  And don’t forget to tell the people you love that you do, because every chance to do so might be your last. But don’t dwell on the inevitable; try instead to appreciate the finite.

From Wired (http://blog.wired.com/27bstroke6/2008/05/calling-on-lamo.html):

Could Lamont “Action” Williams have teamed up with “Women’s Voices Women Vote,” the reportedly pro-Clinton group that has admitted responsibility for the calls? If so, was it part of getting the word out about his candidacy? Has Lamont “Action” Williams been offered a VP slot? Regardless of his involvement, I’m going to take a good hard look at this wrestler candidate. He may have just stolen my heart, and my vote.

Also at NPR (http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=90114863).

And no, I don’t think Hillary is necessarily behind this, but if her supporters are this bad, then I don’t want to be counted among them.