reffed and didn’t die. Did it again at a practice. Didn’t die. There is a theme here, pretty sure. I am also realizing that I learn a certain way and that not everyone teaches that way. It means I need to maybe learn some new ways to learn. That’s okay too, doubt it’ll kill me. The hardest thing is  being new again. Im not used to being new, haven’t been new in at least three years (wow, been with my league a long time now).

Big things are happening. Big. More on that later.

We had a good day. Here’s a picture of it.

  

I didn’t do the best job chronicling my derby career. I would post highlights here and there but nothing significantly important or consistent. 

This year I am turning a page and beginning to officiate. It was not an easy decision to make. There were multiple factors and I think the choice was the right one. I don’t feel I’ve given up on derby. But some do. I don’t feel I’ve failed. Some see it that way. There’s no disgusting ulterior motive, some say there is.

Regardless. I didn’t get to ref much last year, although I would have done more. The team was still growing and needed every single skater on the track. It wasn’t my first choice, but i have always supported the league and the team and I do love my teammates.

I am reffing two games today. And I have kindly been given lodging in the home of two fabulous officials. It’s a different world and I am crawling around in it like a baby. There’s a lot of love and kindness being tossed my way. And I’ll take it. I don’t know how today will go. But it feels like the first in a new chapter of derby for me. I’ll keep Ya posted.

I wrote up a post yesterday but it was mean and pointed fingers.

I am genuinely struggling to understand why I do not get along with people lately. It’s not my usual. I think I have to accept that the older I get, the less tolerant of bullshit I’ve become. And there is a lot of bullshit around me lately. I can’t really process it all.

went down to do some shooting and take my mind off stresses. Had some interesting (to me) results. The targets in the right show the results of 17 rounds at 50 yards sitting. Right handed (as I am). On the left, the same (20 rounds) only shooting with my left. I had similar results standing and plinking at the metal targets. In fact, it was slightly better left then right. Anyway. It was relaxing and I feel like I can focus on the day now. 

   

There is a quiet associated with the early morning in the desert that Is not quite like the quiet anywhere else. It’s anticipatory in nature. There is a smell if dew on dry earth that reminds me of a lover. How quietly he breaks into my thoughts these days. A whisper, just barely there. It has been nearly 40 years since I have seen his face, near mine, breath entangled with my own. And though in the beginning I thought of him often, as the years passed it became the infrequent thing that would bring him to mind. A passing stranger would smell of him. Or softly falling snow on a winter morning would remind me of the times we stole that winter. 

In the desert now, far from where I loved him, it is this sunrise. The smell that night has left behind on the Sand. If desperate longing had a scent, this would be it. I can hear the first bird whistle in a nearby sage as I stretch my tired hand towards the cooling mug of coffee. Alone. Like I always wanted. It’s painful to think about the cost I’ve paid for this isolation. A non-refundable purchase of loneliness. I embrace it as the sun creeps higher and the life i once had fades into the recesses of a tired brain, the image of his face the last thing I see as I shut my eyes to its bright hello.

To whom it may concern:

I have noticed, in recent weeks, an uptick in the number of scarecrows in the neighboring lawn at [redacted]. I would like to address the myriad of issues that surround this recent development as it pertains to the situations that arose, most recently, in our small and humble town.

Many of my neighbors may be unaware of the potential menace these seemingly harmless straw men pose. However, I would like to point out that despite their rather innocuous appearances, recent developments lead me to believe that their very presence has brought about a series of rather unfortunate tidings. 

I draw your attention, good sirs and madams, to the recent and tragic fires in the gardens of Mrs. M. and Mr. Charles X. Coincidence, many have claimed. I find it telling, however, that both the sir and madam were growing rather prize kabocha squash in their quaint gardens, directly in competition to the resident Gardner at [redacted]. It is no secret that this lighthearted (seemingly) competition had recently ended in near blows and extremely heated exchanges between the three parties. And although no foul play can be proved, I find it extraordinary conincidental that a small, hay stuffed and plaid clad figure was found at the scene of both fires. 

I cannot begin to list the numerous accounts by neighbors regarding the discovery of similar scarecrows coinciding with various garden and culinary disasters, but rest assured, good neighbors, that this citizen is on high alert, and I would strongly encourage the county councillors  to consider a temporary ban on the straw men until such time that it can be said with utter certainty that they do not pose the threat I suspect them to.

Sincerely and with heartfelt concern,

Mrs. B 

There was a simple beauty in her love for him. It did not consume or destroy her. It did not burn. It simply existed. Like air or water or earth. There was a wholeness in his presence. A casual comfort to being with him. That was their love. He wasn’t the perfect or the end. He was just. He was. She was calm and quiet in the shelter of his arms. And he was rain on a spring day.

thoughts from our heroine. She’s well. Just tired of her obsession. So I wrote her some notes on fireproof paper.

She closes her eyes and lets her fingers trace lines on his back, feeling an imaginary ocean beneath the waves of his breathing. She could drown there.

“Careful,” she whispered. Too late. He’s made a bed in her heart and the thoughts he dreams there consume them both.

“Are you sure?” He asks. And she’s undone.

She can’t aim to please. She can only crawl and beg his forgiveness when she fails.

Poor broken girl. I should just pack her away. Nothing ever goes her way anymore.

The land had never known daylight. Day was the time when the three dim stars that lit this world were at their zenith and shimmering bits of their light filtered down through the darkness causing pale arches of light to reflect off stone and dead branches and water. Day was a more a dark concept opposite of the more dark night than it was an actual, tangible thing. When your world is a shadow, a rich darkness enveloping everything , you come to embrace it in whichever way evolution will allow.