Do you want to be slaymates?

Heather, the love of my life, the sweetness on my lips, the one, the only (and the kids) are in Colorado. Thursday we awoke at 'O Dark Hundred' (3:00 am), and drove to the airport. Heather drives fast.

It took us 45 minutes to the toll plaza on the Golden Gate Bridge. That is fast. I dropped the kids, and linda, and Heather (the air that I crave) at the airport, and drove to work. I was at the desk pounding code before six am.

The day passed in a blur. Hell, that was two days ago, how am I supposed to remember every damn thing that happens? That evening was the dive club business meeting potluck barbecue. I made rice krispy treats.

I like rice krispy treats, which is good, because there was a limited turnout, and everyone brought dessert. (okay, there were a few other yummy things, but lots and lots and lots of dessert).

"You have brothers Jock?"

"Yes. One of them has a three word vocabulary. 'uh, mmm and uh.' He works in government."

"Really! What does he do?"

"He is president bush's elocution coach."

Okay. Groove on. Then I packed some stuff into the van, and Friday I drove into work. Hit the office just before the end of the early bird parking (9:30), and had a great day.

Nick placed an 'air bet' that he could hit something by throwing his credit card. This inevitably led to a card throwing contest. Nick put his credit card away, and we used my library card. Lisa hit the center of the target on her first throw. Typical.

Wiffle Ball was also played. I was fortunate in being coached by a professional wiffle ball player. BA is a pro. Matt was less charitable, muttering something about how even _I_ could enter a tournement next weekend, and be a professional.

Well, that is clearly absurd! Next weekend I'm going halibut diving in Tomales Bay. How can I do that _and_ become a professional wiffle ball player? Even aside from the talent issue.

With BA's coaching, I was able to really support my team. Lisa pitched me some low, fast, and outside, and then she started to give me some hittable pitches. I think out of pity.

It only took me a few high lobs before I got the slightest bit of contact with the ball. It dribbled up the field like the best part of GW dripped down Barbera's leg, and I did the 'Cheese Dance' in celebration.

I started to turn away, happy in my accomplishment (hey, when you are really feeble at baseball type sports, you need to take your satisfaction where you can!). And then, in my glow of happiness, the ball came whizzing past me. It was meant to hurt. Only chance and saint cristopher saved me from harm.

Gentle Lisa tried to whack on me with the ball! I came to the realization that THIS IS HOW LISA PLAYS! This is FUN for HER! And then I realized that if that ball had hit me I would be OUT! But it didn't, so I ran the bases, scoring first blood, and all because Lisa wasn't satisfied to humiliate me with her pitching, but also needed to open up a can of defensive pain on my gentle ass.

Earlier, during warm ups, Nick pitched a few to Lisa. He pitched a few, until Lisa whacked him in the Nuts with an Evil Knievel poster (This is a TRUE STORY!).

I saw the poster heading for his nuts, and as soon as it hit I thought 'oh god, I hope he's okay. I shouldn't laugh at this unless Nick is okay. It wouldn't be funny if he was really hurt."

I thought all of that bullsperm, and then the rational part of my brain took control and said 'hell yes it is funny, and if he is ruptured you can offer to sew it up with a rusty needle and a shoe lace.' (okay, I _DID_ think that I shouldn't laugh unless he was unhurt, but I didn't think about the shoelace and rusty needle nut job until later).

My best intentions were not enough, and I started laughing as soon as he started to bend and fall in the classic 'nutcracker dance.'

Good night.