Speaking of things I have no business doing...

I didn't fall once, though, mostly because I rarely let go of the side rail. 

We hear what we want to hear.

Yep, that I am.

I saw this at a thrift store and wondered Y someone got rid of it. Maybe they could no longer stand to be constantly faced with the Y of life. Or maybe Yvonne just didn't need it anymore. Or maybe "Y" stood for Yes and the answer was suddenly No. Or maybe I have too much time on mY hands.

One thing is for sure, MCA is missing their friend, the Village People are ticked off, and millions of people nationwide will no longer know what to spell out while they're roller skating. 

Tip o' the hat to JMB for this one

That is, vending. 

(Latin scholars everywhere are busting a gut right now.)

id est

"My bad"

I have no business being on a volleyball court at my current age and state of overweightness. But I love the sport so I'm giving it a go on the Tuesday evening Parks & Rec league.

In my head, I'm still the agile young athlete I once was when I played on intense coed intramural leagues at IU. Or in the years following when I played on the Thursday night "Power League" with the University Club in Fort Wayne. (I was so eager to get there that I changed clothes while driving back from my job in Wabash, but that's another story.)

I still have good court awareness and I'm not afraid of the ball. I remain calm at the net. The jargon comes out of my mouth automatically: "I go." "Free ball." "My bad." I often have a sense of when that ball will come over the net and which direction it will go.

Then a morbidly fascinating mind/body disconnect engages. My brain says "go for that ball" or "move that direction" but my body says "nope, not gonna do it." It's like watching a bad slow motion animation of myself as I see the ball hit the floor, somehow surprised that, yet again, I didn't get to it in time. 

Occasionally I get a set, and the spike is legendary in my head. I used to have a pretty formidable ball strike but now my vertical leap, never great to begin with, is nonexistent. "Listen everyone," I want to say to the other players, "You should have seen how that played out in my imagination. I found the back corner of the court and it was epic!"

But I love the sport, so I soldier on. Then I take an Aleve. And the next morning I move a little more slowly and stiffly than usual. It's worth it.

Who doesn't love a little wheat thin that knows how to party?