Just kickin' it

My office decided to join a kickball league. We formed a team, came up with a name and signed up. We have matching orange t-shirts. It's rad.


We're 2-1 right now, after winning our opening game (decisively), losing our second game (it was close) and DOMINATING in our third game. (Seriously, the score was 23-4. Though we kinda felt bad when we realized the other team didnt really know the rules.....but then we realized it's not OUR fault they didnt read the rules they were provided. So yeah.). We're really looking forward to more games, now that we've got our schwerve on.


We have our fourth game tomorrow. I'm hoping to play a little better than last game and maybe catch some of the line drives coming at me, rather than just knocking them down and trying to make the play. That way, I might not have to lunge at a guy running to first, ending up tangled up with him on the ground, with a scraped right knee and ginormous bruise on my left shin.


Seriously, it's big and bruisy: 4 inches x 2 inches, just off-center. Not quite as bad as the bruises I got playing first base to The Tad's shortstop when our office had a softball team. So maybe this bruise will go away in something less than 2 years.

Adventures in Babysitting, Part 2

When I was a kid, if I would complain about, say, a scraped knee, my dad would check it out, apply proper treatment and then send me on my way. Later, when I (invariably) whined about it still hurting, dad would pinch my arm and then ask if my knee still hurt.

Note: I only fell for this a few times before I quit whining to dad.

While slightly sadistic, dad's theory works: new pain makes you forget about existing pain.

When "playing Star Wars" with Spot and Rover, I know I got whacked a few times with the "light sabres" but didn't really pay attention to any of the hits except the blow to the face. It hurt real bad.

It's now, three days later, that I realize I also took a pretty significant blow to the knee and wrist. I recall being hit multiple times in multiple spots, but according to the bright purple bruises on my knee and wrist, those were big hits.

I made sure to show Pickle (who is expecting a boy) my injuries, to let her know what to expect. Or at least, what her nanny can expect.