I am curious who my next date will be. There is a fireman who will be on call and a fellow writer, who probably won’t have the courage to come away from his computer at all. He posts a picture of himself frowning. He felt a smile was disingenuous. He looks terrifying, but he loves Keats. How scary can he be?
Mind you, Charles Manson wrote poetry.
Three dates down, twenty seven to go. My experiment.
Today is dedicated to my students and to softball. I joined a little recreational league with some theatre buddies, called The Horn Dawgs. We get our jerseys today. I am so proud to belong. Number 29. I am the worst player on the team but everyone is a good sport. I don’t entirely suck. I can hit the ball and throw in the right general direction. I’m rusty but improving. Some of my favourite things:
1) an ump remarking to Craig Erickson “you sure got a lot of girls on your team” in sympathy, and Craig Erickson replying, “Yeah. We do. Our women are some of our best players.”
2) Craig Erickson is right.
3) Kate regularly doing the splits on first to catch a wayward ball while still staying on base.
4) Bob Frazer’s jocular friendly best-guy-ever energy. For those of you who don’t know him, he’s a lanky handsome fellow and always a little bit naughty. He’s always cheering me on, even when he’s on third and I hit the ball right into the pitcher’s mitt, third batter out. “You’re making contact, Lucia, you’re making contact!”
5) Dennis always brings his dog.
6) Rob’s little girl and mine reading stories under the trees on their tummies, their little legs kicking back and forth lazily in the evening sun.
7) Unassuming Jovanni Sy – as-fast-as-freaking-lightening-secret-weapon-kind-of-glee-who-blows-a-knee-to-catch-all-pop-flies
8) Most reliable player Bev who always mutters under her breath how the play should have gone, and she’s right.
9) Dear Deb reads my blog today and says, “I didn’t know you were famous!” Haha. Neither did I!
I could go on, they’re a good gang. And tonight John Webber pulls down his BBQ off of his ol’ red truck and we gather after a sound beating for a little grub. This is largely an actor’s league so everyone eats very healthy. I don’t know if I even see a single beer, but I do see a quinoa salad. Because Hiro Kanagawa is out of town and unable to bring his award winning pie – I bring chocolate cake. And damn I get it right. It is moist. The icing is creamy. And everyone has seconds. Steven Drover tucks away a third piece in a serviette for his beautiful wife, Sasa, and drives off in his dreamboat black motorbike and in that moment I feel complete. I don’t get on base tonight, but my cake hits a home run. I earn the jersey.
29 and holding.
