Play ball! (If you dare.)

You know that awful dream where you're trying really hard to run but you feel like you're tethered to a parked Mack truck? As I recently discovered, that's what running is like for me, but in real life.

At risk of having to default, the Noogles softball team was in desperate need of a second female player for their game two Wednesdays ago. They were so desperate that they accepted my reluctant offer to play. What were they thinking? At any rate, they accepted. Now, I really didn't expect to have to run, since I was going to be placed at home plate as the catcher (not a strategically important role in three-pitch softball), and the only other reason to run would be if I managed to hit the ball when I was at bat. That wasn't a likely scenario.

Not having thrown or caught a ball or swung a bat in, oh, twenty years or more, I thought I could use a little practice. Okay, a lot of practice, but since I only came up with the idea ten minutes before game time, a little would have to do. Following Scott's pointers, I managed to jam my right index finger on my third try at catching. If you've ever jammed your finger, you'll be cringing right now. A jammed finger happens when an idiot like me allows the ball to hit a straight finger head-on. It really freakin' hurts. My finger turned red and swelled up and stung like a sonofabitch. I'd like to blame my jammed finger for the fact that I threw like a girl for the entire game, but that would be disingenuous.

Here's the weird part. When I was at bat, sure, I swung like I was holding a sledgehammer and I missed the ball most of the time, but occasionally I connected. And some of those times, I made it to first base. A few times, with the help of decent batters, I actually made it home. And hey, I even had an RBI!

But the running, my friends, the running. It wasn't pretty. It made me wonder how I managed to participate (however briefly) in marathon training several years ago. I guess the difference is that the training was also many pounds ago. I wanted to get on base, I really did, so it wasn't for lack of desire that I struggled so much. No matter how hard I tried to sprint, I felt like more like an elephant trying to escape quicksand.

And yet...

In the bottom of the final inning I crossed that plate, with two other runners right on my heels, and when the last player reached the plate we won by one run! That felt good. It felt really, really good. For about three minutes. Then I felt my body.

And I wanted to die.

I spent about four days wanting to die, in fact. Four days during which my jammed finger turned blue, then purple, then almost black, then back to just about normal, except for discolouration beneath the nail. Four days during which my thighs felt twice as fat as they actually are, my back cried out for rest, and my feet cursed me for my foolishness. Four days during which Scott just shook his head whenever he looked at my colour-changing finger or saw me limping around, groaning and creaking. Then, a couple of days later, I turned 35. I may not be the oldest person in the Noogle group, but I'm officially retiring. It's time for me to return my borrowed glove and to put on a leisure suit, because from now on it's all about mall-walking and tai chi for me. Minus the tai chi. That's too strenuous.

No quarter

I wish I could digitally capture the facial expression that Scott has whenever I do something stupid. It is a combination of amusement, disbelief and pity. Whether his pity is for me or for himself I do not know. He gave me just such a look recently when we went grocery shopping.

We used to shop at a hoity-toity market with free-range shopping carts. When our pets put us in the poor house, however, we began shopping at the local no-frills grocery store (which is named, fittingly, No Frills). Unlike the chi-chi market, No Frills has instituted a loss-prevention program for its shopping carts. The carts are chained together in drafty shelters in the store parking lot. To release a cart from the chain-gang, one must insert a quarter into a coin slot affixed to the handle.

During the shopping trip in question, when I fished around for a quarter, I found one with a design that I had not seen before. It featured a tall ship, its sails stretched by strong winds, and the dates 1604-2004. Curious, I asked Scott what happened in 1604. He didn't know, either.

We did our grocery shopping, loaded our items in the car and I returned the cart to the shelter. When I locked the cart to the next one in line and withdrew a quarter, I was amazed to see that the coin had the exact same design as the one I had used as a deposit. I excitedly ran back to the car and showed the quarter to Scott, telling him about the unbelievable coincidence. That's when he gave me The Look.

Listen, I'm not mechanically minded. How was I supposed to know that the quarter I put in is always the same one I get back? I don't think about these things. Obviously.

Go, Indy!

Eventually I will go see the new Indiana Jones movie. For now, however, I am enjoying this.

Hawaii vacation DOs and DON'Ts

When vacationing in beautiful Hawaii, DO:

-leave the cruise ship from time to time, as there is far more to do than goof around with the murals on the walls

-splurge on a fruity beverage or twelve

-stop to admire the rainbows

-attend a luau

-go barefoot on at least one beach

-watch the sunrise from the Haleakala crater

-expect to be awed

DON'T:

-panic and flail your limbs when snorkeling with dolphins in their natural habitat (apparently a pod of 150 dolphins will avoid a small group of humans when one of those humans is thrashing about)

-fall down and cut your knee when attempting to get back on the boat between snorkeling attempts, since a) you look foolish and b) saltwater stings

-get tonsillitis (drugs ain't cheap on a cruise ship)

-fall asleep with a cough drop in your mouth, since the drool stain will remain on your pillowcase all week

Learn from my mistake

This is my yard.

This is my yard on dogs.

I loves me my Sitemeter

It's stats time again, boys and girls!

By far the most common search terms bringing people to my blog in recent weeks have had to do with dogs' broken toes. My posts about Ferris probably discouraged a lot of owners from seeking veterinary attention for their pets. One reader, from Slough, UK, googled "Putting a rabbit's leg in sling." Good luck, friend.

A web-surfer from the Navy Network Information Center in Pensacola, Florida, searched for "Kiss me" "Steven Wright." Don't ask, don't tell.

I am not flattered that an individual from Whiteland, Indiana, was directed to my blog after searching "frequent yawning boredom."

Thanks to my post about cutting and donating my hair, someone from Los Angeles, California, found my blog after googling "chop off top of hair leave rest long." That's called a mullet, buddy. Don't do it.

I chuckled when I saw that someone in Cincinnati, Ohio, searched for "dribblestop."

Last but not least, someone from Rome, Italy, googled "lacrosse I'm not afraid of you." Way to go, signore. No need to fear Canada's national summer sport.

I'm lijit

I'm a big fan of the lijit wijit, so it's nice to be recognized for spreading the love.

Speaking of being legit, regular readers know that Scott and I are now engaged. Scott picked up the re-sized engagement ring at the jewellery store yesterday before heading to my parents' house for a family dinner. Wasn't I tickled pink when he got down on one knee to re-propose! (My mother snapped a photograph but I haven't received a copy yet. If it isn't too hideous I will post it here.) Engagement is wonderful. Planning the wedding is another story. I want an un-wedding, while Scott wants a more traditional wedding. While I have grudgingly dropped the idea of holding the reception in a sand-filled indoor beach volleyball court, I still want something small, casual and low-key. I also don't want to break the bank or damage the environment. I found a recreation area that offers "green" weddings, but they make you fork over a ton of green for the privilege.

Further bulletins as news warrants.

The hardest part about having pets

I wish I had written more about Samson. Being the seemingly healthiest of our pets, he did not give me cause to grumble about repeated trips to the vet. He did give us many opportunities to laugh. He was a bright, trouble-making, kittenish little guy. Out of six siblings he was the only one who did not contract feline distemper, and we thought he was strong enough to beat all odds.

Samson would have been four this coming July. In the past he suffered from crystals in his bladder and we have had him on a special diet ever since. He seemed to be doing well. When Scott and I arrived home from work yesterday, however, we found Samson in pain, crying and not moving around very much. Throughout the evening he drank a lot of water and threw up several times. In hindsight it's hard to believe that we did not rush him to the emergency clinic, but we once had a bad experience there; as a result we have little faith in the care that such clinics provide. We decided to wait and see. We sat with Samson on the sofa for a while and pet him as much as he would tolerate.

We kept Samson in the bathroom overnight with food, water and a litter box. When I checked on him this morning he was laying down, breathing but nothing else - not even blinking. We rushed him to our vet clinic but he died in my arms en route.

Samson was Scott's favourite, there was no denying it. Part of my pain is the loss I am feeling, and part of it is the grief I can see Scott suffering. It's also heartbreaking to witness Trooper's confusion as he begins to realize that his brother (and best cuddle-buddy) is gone. It will take a long time to forgive ourselves for not taking Samson to the vet last night.

Have you ever noticed...

...how you get really, really busy after returning from vacation? That's my excuse for not posting in a while. At any rate, for your viewing pleasure, I have finally posted a selection (100) of photos from beautiful Hawaii. If you click the "i" in the middle of a photo, the captions will be displayed. Oh boy, nothing like a slideshow of someone else's vacation.

No joke

Somewhere off the coast of Maui, Scott proposed. To me, no less.

Me, stunned

More on our fabulous vacation in Hawaii later.