number 9...number 9

We had a great practice tonight and most everyone was in a great mood, maybe because it rained and snowed in Redding all day and practice was moved indoors to the gym.

The rookies also got to pick their jersey numbers tonight. After bouncing around in the range of eligibles (numbers that allow me to catch a pass w/out notifying the ref ahead of time) -- first I picked 19, but that seemed too quarterback-ish which I'm not, then I picked 37, which would have been OK but it's more of a running back number, and 99 was already taken by one of our linemen -- I finally settled on 9 which is a proper kicking number (but I can still be a receiver and all that).

It looks like I might get to do some serious kicking. I am stoked about this because I think I could actually be really good at it with ongoing practice. We had another rookie player who had a mean left-footed boot but unfortunately she may not be able to play for medical reasons. It will be a while before we start officially practicing special teams, most of us still have to learn how to tackle and apparently that's kind of a priority in the coaches' minds, but after the last few field practices I've been punting a few and a couple teammates have been fielding. Then they throw long bombs back to me which is also good since my catching needs all the help it can get.

I also have my own kickoff tee. Last Saturday formal practice was cancelled since the coaches were at a coaching clinic (in Reno, probably getting coached on how to navigate all-you-can eat buffets as an added bonus) and I worked on kickoffs. Had a small breakthrough, figured out that I was reaching too far for the ball and if I put my left foot down somewhere just past the ball, the power and lift increase dramatically.

I may not be Adam Vinatieri just yet, but at least he and I are the same age. That's a good start. I am only an inch and a half shorter than Martin Gramatica, who is my favorite kicker to watch because he prays so fervently before every kick. Too bad he plays for Dallas because I can't help but want him to make his kicks even though we always want Dallas to lose.

vindicated doctor visit

Some co-workers helped persuade me to drop by the clinic and have my cough checked out--I decided at least maybe I could get a prescription for something better than NyQuil to help me sleep at night even if the verdict was just that it's the bug going around.

Turns out that the verdict is bronchitis and I got Rxs for antibiotics as well as Tussionex, touted as "very strong" and capable of producing a full night's sleep. Isn't that sick, to be somewhat pleased that I'm sick? Maybe not so much pleased, but definitely validated, which is pleasing. "Your lungs sound kinda rough" declared the young PA-C. Thank you, they feel kinda rough!

cough...cof...cof....

One expects that there should be some benefit from taking nasty tasting medicine, other than the experience of choking it down. That's the last time I buy the Rite-Aid brand NyQuil Cough knockoff. I took it 45 minutes ago and can't tell that it has had any effect. C had to put in her earplugs, and we have some guests staying with us in the living room (they were warned, sort of) so I'm here trying to stifle my coughs. Lying down seems to make it worse. Nighttime in general seems to make it worse though it might only be perceived as worse because everything else is so quiet. Last night staying with a friend in Sac I took some NyQuil capsules she had on hand and slept really well once they kicked in. I should have bought more of those except that I don't have all the symptoms they claim to cover and they have a lingering zombie-like effect well into the day, maybe it's the antihistimine ingredient. I was trying to be a smart health consumer by selecting a product not too broad in scope. I think I would prefer being a well-rested (and quiet) zombie at this point to a hacking insomniac.

Overall it's trivial in the scheme of health complaints. This isn't a Wuthering Heights kind of cough or anything, but it's still a drag.

Lance says running is hard

Just ran across this article about Lance Armstrong's intention to have another go at the NYC marathon next fall. Apparently last year he accomplished his goal to run it in under 3 hours, but just barely. You'd think that no physical effort would seem all that tough to Lance but I guess the accumulated impact of running takes its toll in a way that the Tour doesn't. I'm impressed that one of the greatest athletes in the world was willing to try something new that he might not (yet, or ever) be one of the "best" at, and that he's coming back for more.

Lance flatly refused to wear the itsy bitsy Speedo shorts Nike wanted him to wear for the marathon last year, opting for basketball shorts instead. He has a spine in addition to his other physical attributes.

first practice w/ helmet

The helmet fits perfectly and is touted as the most "comfortable" football helmet on the market. Nevertheless it is something like wearing a ball and chain that attaches to your head with thumb screws (speaking more from speculation than actual experience) so I'm glad I got the comfy one. Whatever capacity I had for catching a ball on the run was at least temporarily shut down by it. I'm afraid that if I turn my head too fast, the inertia will make my head spin all the way around. My peripheral vision is shrunk to the area of my face mask. Good thing we have practice three times a week for the next 2 1/2 months, I'm sure these issues will work themselves right out.

Word to Bush -- Isaiah 3:15

A long time ago, riding down a street in Salt Lake City with my dad, I saw a bunch of guys in carwash uniforms kicking and stomping on another guy who was down on the ground, looked like he could have been homeless but who knows, and who knows what he may have done, if anything, to incur the wrath of his attackers. Whatever else it was, it was obviously not a fair fight. When we got to Dad's office he called the police to report the incident. I haven't witnessed live very many instances of real violence which seems a little surprising to me, considering how prevalent it is in the world. In my own protected sphere most of the violence I see is prepackaged and edited or staged, with one subtle exception.

I have a client, a woman in her 50's, who (along with her cat) is about to end a long stint of homelessness. She was a winner of a recent Section 8 "lottery." During the cold snaps in January I wondered almost every night if I would read the next morning that she had frozen to death. The homeless shelter wasn't a viable option for her because they have many stringent rules for eligibility imposed by their HUD funding. No way in hell was she giving up her cat, her best friend and companion for the past ten years, and she doesn't do so well with crowds and little privacy. I have heard people use the term "feral humans" as a way of trying to wash their hands of those "hard to serve" homeless who won't sign away nearly all of their personal liberties for the sake of a roof and a hot dinner, but she has been very much interested and focused on finding herself a warm, safe place to live.

A few months ago, our local Housing Authority held a lottery for people to try to win a position on the waiting list for a Section 8 voucher. Briefly, the Section 8 program allows people to receive rental assistance that allows them to rent a very modest apartment of their choice (from any landlord who will accept the vouchers). The tenant is obligated to pay about 30% of whatever income he / she has as their share of the rent. There is a ceiling on the amount of assistance the Housing Authority can provide, so the total rent has to be at the lower end of the area's average rents to start with, or the rental won't get approved. If or when the tenant's income increases, the Section 8 subsidy decreases proportionally. So it's a pretty smart program, encourages responsibility, theoretically helps avoid concentrating all the poor people into one spot, includes annual inspections to make sure the housing is up to health and safety codes, and so on.

Unfortunately the waiting list to obtain one of these prized vouchers in our county had been closed for YEARS before the recent lotteries. Even once on the waiting list, in many areas it can take five years or more before your name comes up.

My client and her cat got lucky -- not only did she win a spot on the list, she got a low number and was able to get a voucher almost immediately. She's working with a landlord to make some repairs on an apartment so that it will pass the Section 8 inspection, and hopefully soon she can leave behind the years of sleeping in old camping trailers and tents and somebody or other's van. I am so proud of her, she's really stayed on top of this plus she has no car and travels everywhere by bicycle and bus. A hero for our time.

So when I read about Bush's budget proposal that would further slash housing assistance programs, it is clear that Bush and his gang are just like those guys at the carwash. This is our "homeland security," a bunch of guys in jumpsuits who will come and stomp on you when you're down. In the article linked above there is an interesting quote from Nixon's 1972 re-election campaign touting the fact that

"for the first time in 20 years we are spending more on human resources than defense."

This was something people once said to try to get re-elected. Huh.

I will vote for anyone who has the internal organs, of whatever gender, to embrace truly and re-proclaim investment in human resources (including varying companion species) as a legitimate American value and a most desirable goal. Down with the thugs.

championship wall sitting

Here is a photo from the web (not me or our team) demonstrating Wall Sit.
Last night was our last team practice in the gym; after this we're on the field 3x per week. A regular exercise in our gym practices has been the wall sit. Usually we do three reps of 2 minutes or so. I was eager to up the ante but I didn't think this would help me win friends and be popular with my teammates. However Coach Mike made us an offer last night that whoever stayed longest on the wall could get out of doing the "quick feet" drill, a delightful exercise that turns your calves and shins to jelly in a short time. Apparently this was a very motivational offer for some folks. At the 6.5 minute mark three of us were still sitting, prompting Coach to declare that whoever made it to 8 minutes could get out of the quickfeet drill (guess he was worried we'd sit there all night). At the stroke of 8 minutes my two teammates dropped, having achieved their objective. I really wanted to see how long I could keep doing it but coach told me to get up shortly afterwards. I think it made a good impression. A flyer on the wall in the women's locker room says somebody in one of the women's strength training classes at the gym wall sat for 15 minutes. I think I could have made it to 10. 15 would take more practice. It felt good, since I'm still lacking somewhat in actual football skills, to be queen for a minute.

The Girls are Safe!

Up until this moment there has been no women-specific football equipment that I am aware of. This is a groundbreaking development. All my teammates and our colleagues around the country have been playing in gear that doesn't really fit or adequately protect our bodies. I think my rugged pioneer foremothers would smile upon this. Just put my bid on eBay for my set. I will sell the shoulderpads I already bought back on eBay or perhaps to a teammate who isn't quite ready for the revolution.

Grandmas on ice

Local grandmother Cathy Webster will spend two months in federal prison for her protest at the School of the Americas (WHINSEC). At her sentencing, Ms. Webster told the judge, "You will notice that increasingly it is the elders who are speaking out and acting boldly and authoritatively to bring understanding of what justice, kindness, generosity and compassion mean in a world weary of the endless conquest and dominance mind-set of nations."

Who's afraid?

In view of the delisting of wolves in three states with more to come I have to plug a book I read a few years ago, Of Wolves and Men by Barry Lopez. The author highlights very interesting, and tragic, parallels between how white people have historically treated wolves and how they treat(ed) native people. Maybe it's not really all that surprising a parallel. But the book is fascinating in its description not only of biology and the pack social structure, but in human mythologization for good or evil. After reading it I was ready to go up to Alaska with a rocket launcher and fire a warning shot or two past the propellers of the airborne wolf "hunters." Even out the playing field a bit. I can understand the rancher's need to protect property (though it sounds like many cases of predation were historically misattributed to wolves on a regular basis, actually feral dogs have been a worse problem at times). If you'd left the wolves an adequate supply of their normal prey they wouldn't have gone after your dumb old sheep anyway. Why can't we all just get along. It is grotesque and tiresome, this game of sending a whole group of somethings or someones to the brink of obliteration and then spending enormous effort and energy trying to save them again. I want to play something else. At least the good thing about the current administration is that in this game I don't think it would bother with the saving part because it's too hard; if it came to it, we'd just get to stop at the obliteration. Good thing the writing is on the wall for the administration along with anything it may have helped obliterate.

As time goes by

I received an 11"x6" postcard this week inviting me to "finish at home" what I "started at BYU!" by obtaining a Bachelor of General Studies with an emphasis in one several areas: American Studies, English and American Literature, Family Life, History, Management, Psychology, or Writing. The postcard has a detour / road sign theme (continued at the website) and the caption at the top of the card reads "Whatever Detours in Life Have Come Your Way, You Can Still Finish Your BYU Degree."

Rather a bold, all-encompassing statement. If I didn't already have a couple degrees from other universities (one school's degree is another school's detour, perhaps), it would be tempting to spend $30 to find out whether this is false advertising.

However, as Greg Kinnear's character stated in "Little Miss Sunshine," sarcasm is the refuge of losers, so I won't trip down that particular path right now. Certainly there are a number of people for whom this postcard will point out a feasible method of finishing their undergraduate degree, and it's a worthwhile thing to have. Last week I attended a conference on the issues faced by working poor families. One of the speakers pointed out that sadly one of the leading causes of poverty is motherhood. Therefore it especially behooves mothers to seize any economic advantage they possibly can, and judging from the images on the postcard and the website, the mom contingent is the prime target audience.

I am just puzzled though, unless this is some brand new continuing ed program and they dug way down into the files to promote it, why is BYU inviting me back at this particular time? I would have been (theoretically) eligible for the program almost ten years ago. Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world...er, I mean, God never closes a door without somewhere opening a window...my grandma would have called that "working for the power company" but maybe it is meant to demonstrate the importance of good ventilation. I digress. Back in the day at the Y the closest thing we had to a gin joint was a coffee shop in Orem. We'll always have Orem. I think this may be the beginning of a beautiful work of satirical semi-fiction. No sarcasm though, that's for losers.

for my NFL-sized head

The Schutt DNA appears to be a good model for protecting what C would call my "tender goo." Been searchin' the "internets" for a metallic silver size XL which, they advise, requires the XL size DNA facemask (has to be maroon). I found one ebay store that claims to offer the requisite size and colors but I tell you what, XL is harder to come by than you'd think considering the sport's association with human solar eclipse-type guys. I guess the pros / collegiates have their secret suppliers. And no joke, I really do need an XL helmet despite the less substantial rest of me. I wrapped the measuring tape around my forehead and it came out 23.5." The lower end of XL, yes, but a tad too big for a large unless I were to slather my head with petroleum jelly which I would prefer not to do. I can adjust the pads inside the helmet to make sure the fit is good.

But back to the subject of suppliers, it turns out that right here in Butte County, CA is one of the nation's premier suppliers of certified reconditioned football helmets of all the major manufacturers. On Thursday when I'm passing through Gridley on the way to Sacramento I may pay them a visit, I think I may be able to save some $$ over the ebay outfit in Wisconsin, try before I buy, and maybe even show up to Saturday practice with a helmet. The first drill will involve trying to stand up and walk while wearing helmet without being toppled over by its massive girth. We aren't tackling just yet but coach wants us to start practicing the not toppling over bit.

the horror

I added the movie "S21--The Khmer Rouge Killing Machine" to our Netflix queue a long time ago because I was looking for films about the recent history of Southeast Asia. It finally made its way through the list having been bumped back numerous times by other DVDs that were more appealing. However, I'm glad I left it in the queue. It was so different from anything you see on the "history" channel or even good quality PBS documentaries we've seen, such as Ken Burns produces, and this is why: the film features a survivor of the S21 prison camp, Vann Nath, interviewing his former guards. Vann Nath survived because he was a painter and the men in charge liked the way he painted Pol Pot. Remarkably Vann Nath is able to ask the guards why and how they could have done what they did.

How often has that happened on this earth? That the victim and the abusers sit down at a table and the victim is able to call them to account? It was amazing. As dissociated and shut down as the guards appeared to be, they were obviously ashamed. Yet the film told their story as well. One of the former guards was only 13 or 14 years old at the time, having been taken away from his village as a small child and indoctrinated.

What was even more amazing was to observe the difference between Vann Nath and the former guards and see who was obviously worse off twenty years after their experience.

The film has some graphic photographs and descriptions of what happened but it uses no special effects. The guards use pantomime to describe some of their routines at the prison which is now a genocide museum, and one almost feels that they are like ghosts haunting the place, emotionally / mentally / spiritually trapped there as the former prisoners were physically trapped.

The film is probably not for everyone but if you are up for watching it, I recommend reading the Wikipedia link first to get a little more background. I had never heard of this prison before seeing the film and it took me a little while to figure out that S21 referred to the prison itself, and that most of the prisoners there were actually supporters / members of the Khmer Rouge movement that turned on its own people. Usually we think of genocide being perpetrated by one group against another. Perhaps the events in Cambodia reveal the falsity and insanity of sorting humans into groups who have some reason to hate each other. Is it more, or less, an atrocity to systematically torture and murder your "own people" than to murder "other people?" Trick question! The Khmer Rouge regime can be credited, at least, with not externalizing all of its paranoia.

Here I go again--

meaning it looks like I'm about to jump in to something that, if I'm lucky, could result in serious injury to my ego. Hopefully not too much physical injury. At least I know a lot more about football than I knew about law (& law school) before I started THAT project, so I'm not signing up in a state of nearly complete ignorance about what it is I'll actually be doing.

Tryouts on Saturday involved a pretty easy warmup and some timed drills. My best 40-yd dash was 9.62 seconds. The fastest woman there ran it in under 7 seconds, but I was in the ballpark of the faster end of the group.

I did pretty well with the kicking considering only two previous kicking practices. The coaches offered some suggestions for increasing my punting distance--I was hitting the ball too high, I need to drop it lower or wait longer before I connect with it.

My standing jumps were pretty good. We were supposed to take three jumps in a row and then the coach measured the total distance traveled. My best of two attempts was 19'4". The record for the day was over 21 feet.

I caught on to the team cheer right away--"rage on three--1, 2, 3, RAGE!" At the end of the tryout the coaches gave us some of the fine print and reminded everyone that this is in fact full-contact TACKLE football (apparently one year somebody went through tryouts and even bought all her gear, then was utterly shocked when the first full-contact practice took place and quit in horror). Even though everybody gets to be on the team who wants to play, I was very impressed by the level of athleticism and skill I observed. There were a few veterans there as well as the new hopefuls. I seriously wondered if I'm really up for this challenge to my physical and mental toughness. But I think it will be good for me. The fastest running and farthest- jumping player trying out was there with her 3-year old son. No wonder she's so fast.

Bows and flows of angel hair

I like the sound of this year. Has sort of a sleek James Bond thing going for it. I am thinking of some things I would like to do and / or change a bit this year, understanding that old habits probably don't die but are at least adjustable.

So, not necessarily in order of importance, I want to:

·Experience being on a football team
·Help C carry out her plans to make art and put it out into the world, dream up clever marketing strategies and help her make a website
·Get some cafe singing gigs
·Use the GarageBand software to record a demo CD
·Finish building my touring bike
·Go bike camping
·Get a puppy (and a trailer for the bike)
·Increase by a notch or two the level of order I impose on my personal and work spaces. Tap in to my inner fastidiousness.
·Visit family and friends more often
·Continue to write the disjointed bits of fiction that will someday reach critical mass and coalesce into the great overlooked literary novel of this (or some future) decade.
·Renew my commitment to budget and save a little $ aside each month
·Go to sleep earlier and wake up earlier (I write that knowing it will improve efficiency and well-being but I have some resistance to it. We'll see. Maybe if I start waking up earlier it will become self-enforcing.)

Only 364.5 days left to accomplish these things. Better get crackin.'

Putting the Pro back in Procrastination

This is going to be short 'cause I have to dash off to work--BRIEFLY, I pray--to finish up the paperwork backlog I allowed to accumulate over the past, well, year.

Yesterday the office was officially closed which made the 10 hrs I put in extremely productive. I'm trying to leave on vacation, you see, but everything is supposed to be done before the ball drops over the weekend. And when the office is open I find it incredibly difficult to get anything done, people keep calling me, dropping in with new problems, and there's the email OCD thing where I feel compelled to check it about every 5 minutes, etc. I'm not sure what grand message it is that I think I might be receiving any minute that makes me want to check so often but it must be something good. (That's framing the problem optimistically at least.)

There is now some space on my desk that hasn't seen the light of day for months, so deep in my heart, I do believe that we shall be leaving for the coast this morning. Maybe not early this morning, but prior to 12:00 pm. Okay, gotta go.

graduated from Nerf

I pried Ce away during halftime on Sunday and we took our Nerf out in the parking lot. I guess for purposes of throwing a ball amidst parked cars it was a good idea but it was clear that this wouldn't do for real practice, plus we were probably bringing shame to our ancestors by tossing this bit of pointed prolate spheroid-shaped styrofoam around.

Today at lunchtime I went to Play it Again Sports and acquired a nice sticky Wilson Supreme official NCAA-size composite ball for $14.99. I tucked it under my arm and discretely ran back to the car. I think it's bigger than the one the women's league plays with but it has a good feel and Ce noted that no pigs or other animals donated their hides for it.

So now our household is more properly equipped. It's almost, but not quite, as exciting as the hanging cookware rack we bought from Collier's last weekend with our housewarming gift certificate. (Thanks again, you know who you are!!)

"was it destiny? I don't know yet"

The next Papale?

We stopped in for lunch at the Burger Hut off of Forest Ave. yesterday, needing to refuel for continued shopping, and also dining there was a whole table full of sturdy looking ladies in maroon football jerseys. I studied them for a bit, then noticed one of the women had a T-shirt that said "Rage On!" This was clearly the "Redding Rage" professional women's football team (or part of it, at least). So then I had to talk to them. We sat down at the adjoining table and I turned to the nearest player and said "Are YOU the Redding Rage?" which seemed to please the woman enormously. She said "Yes! Do you guys want to play?"

How to answer that question. Heck yes I want to play. Ce is very clear about her desire to remain a spectator, not a participant, but I am not clear at all and I can't figure out why. Normally I am quite averse to physical risks. They play full contact in this league. Maybe I don't really want to play, I just want to try on the costume. No, I want to try on the persona too. I could be meaner than a junkyard dog on the football field (within the rules of play) and my behavior would be completely appropriate.

On the other hand, I looked at their roster and it looks like they need another kicker. Not exactly the junkyard dog position but probably would make a lot more sense for someone who's a bit scrawny and risk averse. I think I was probably about 8 or 9 years old when I last attempted to kick a football but I'm sure it would come back with a little practice.

Anyway, it's only $25 to try out and you get a t-shirt (compared to the $75 fee to try out for the Sacramento Sirens team) so maybe...just for fun...just to say I tried...I'll head to Redding on January 6.

P.S. Someone I went to school with who is a staff attorney for legal services in Sacramento plays for the Sirens. She's smaller than I am but she's a lot meaner.

lean your ear this way

I spent the morning at a senior center in their storage room (officially called "the library" because among the stored items are some bookshelves full of very old paperbacks and ReadersDigestCondensed volumes). I have appointments here once a month. Today a client asked me, "Are you an attorney, or are you from Legal Aid?" I explained, why, as it happens, I am an attorney AND I am from Legal Aid! To cut the old lady a little slack, though, a lot of free legal aid happens through the efforts of non-attorneys and attorneys who volunteer their time. I don't really wear the uniform that people associate with attorneys either so I can't blame her for not being sure.

Since I had a couple no-shows today there was more opportunity to reflect on the senior center environs. A gentleman started playing Christmas songs on the piano in the main room. He played a bit hesitantly, as if sight reading and a little rusty, though less rusty than I would have been. He played "Jolly Old St. Nicholas" in a halting, reverent way that made it sound exactly like like a hymn, which was pretty much how he played all the songs, but for some reason that one stuck. I'm a sucker for paradox, I guess. But the main thing was that the music warmed the air a bit, sent out some good vibrations, and that he was both able and willing to play for us. Bless him.

Imagine

"If everyone demanded peace instead of another television set, then there'd be peace."

I don't know if a mass rejection of additional TVs would be sufficient to halt the war industry or repair the damage it has done, but I will challenge myself, and you, to think of something else you can do today or the coming week or month to bring forth your own vision of the world you would like you, your kids, and / or your friends to live in, on however small a scale.

Thanks. Visions may vary a bit, but I think it's probably safe to assume that nobody dreams of raising their kids in a cardboard box by the river or in bombed-out ruins, and probably everyone would like to be able to get medical care without destroying their credit, and probably nobody really enjoys being stuck in traffic twice a day, so I trust you.