I have so many books to read. So many that I could go years without buying another book and still be happily lost in words. I should (read: plan to) write summaries of the books I've read so far this year, mostly so that I don't lose track, but also so that I can have a running commentary of them.

I have books on Kindle, in PDF format, as paper form (hardback, trade, paperback and pick any other odd size you'd like), and in audiobook formats. Each one has a different use case: in public or travelling, travelling but technical, snuggled on the couch with a book I want to keep, or moving.

Yes, a great thing about audiobooks is that I can "read" a book, while moving or doing something else. This works well when the "something else" doesn't require, say, lots of mental focus. Such "something else"s include gardening, washing dishes, baking, resting, running or making art of some variety.

The best thing about audiobooks, though?

You can read them when you're blind. Or half-blind. Or half-blind and nauseous. Or half-blind, nauseous, stressed, mostly numb and unable to turn pages.

That's the best part.

Related: fucking migraines.

Nicole and I went to see the San Francisco Dogfish game today. Dogfish are the San Francisco team for the new Major League Ultimate professional ultimate frisbee league. I wasn't sure what to expect, but was very excited to go watch high-level ultimate.

The game was a windy game. And how! Few of the upwind pulls made mid-field, with one rolling back to about 20m outside the attacking endzone. The game was high-level, to be sure, but I didn't feel overly impressed: it seemed similar to watching a game at Nationals. There were a number of great plays (a number of great layouts, players running down discs I thought there was no chance of reaching, incredibly accurate throws in the wind), and I was duly impressed with them, but it was still, in my mind, Nationals-level, not necessarily pro-level.

The crowd was much bigger than I was expecting:

Yet, it was totally into the game. During the half time, Footloose was playing over the sound system. The bench in front of us all stood up and started dancing 80s style, Footloose style. I spent a long time laughing with them and their happiness.

I really liked how the event was linked to a number of women's sports, given the Dogfish game was men-only. In particular, the game after the Dogfish game was a professional women's soccer game, AND the half-time event was a what-is-rugby demonstration from Cal's national champions women's rugby team.

The top rugby players were off ambassador'ing for the sport, but the eight women that did demonstrate rugby to us were very enthusiastic. I was delighted to see that even non-athletic women were able to find a sport they love and embraced. Some of them were the antithesis of athlete, and yet they were out there playing. It was great to see.

At the end of the game, which Dogfish won 31-13, which was both the highest score in a game this season (therefore, EVER in the league) and the biggest differential between scores, both teams came out to the stands to sign discs. I really loved this part of the game. The players embraced the fans, especially the young ones. A lot of small kids, less than 10 years old or so, were excited to talk to the ultimate players, these approachable people who were out there playing this sport their parents played. How cool! I really liked that the players did the schmoozing.

Okay, that all said, what did I really think of the experience?

I sat so far outside of my comfort zone at that game that I couldn't even see it any longer. I said hello to players I played with twenty years ago. I sat in front of a contingent of SBUL players that ALL knew me, and I had to struggle to remember their names. I talked with a half dozen MIschief folk, some who played after I had left and didn't know that I was a founding member of their team. I ran into to Bharat, and his new girlfriend, had no idea what to say, and was so stunned to see him that all I managed was a hello. I met up with players I haven't seen in 15 years, but who played with me when I first played disc in Northern California, and I didn't have the heart to say anything about my current personal issues. How were things? FANTASTIC, I lied. It was hard.

I found refuge in sitting with Keith and Katie, watching Mia run sprints up and down the stands and stairs. I'm not sure I thanked them for saving me in my overwhelmed state.

I went to watch the game, and the game was not what I knew. The referees called everything, fouls, the stall count, offsides. The players just play. Double teams were allowed, double, triple teams, all allowed. It looked like ultimate, and yet wasn't quite the same.

I went to watch the game, expecting to be a McQueen fan: knowing the game, and watching the strategy, the brilliance of the players; and instead received a Dan fan experience: non-player knowledge of the game, there with his friends, here have a beer.

It wasn't what I was expecting, I was overwhelmed and uncomfortable and very happy that Nicole was busy meeting up with players she's know for the two decades she's been playing. Of course, she's one of those people for me, played with 20 years ago.

There are times when life folds back on itself. Some of those folds are good. Nicole and Andy are two of those good fold-backs in life.

I'm still debating on the rest of the fold-backs I had at the Dogfish game.

I have noticed I have been seeking out comfort food a lot lately. I am unsurprised, however, given the confluence of events that have happened in the last eight months, some of them of my own making, others not. While chocolate is my usual go-to comfort food, I eat it regularly enough that the low level comfort it provides doesn't provide nearly the buffer needed to weather the most recent events.

And, so, grilled cheese sandwiches have become a frequent visitor to my dinner table.

So much so, that I am saddened by the closing of a hipster grilled-cheese (only?) sandwich shop in the Mission.

Saddened, and emboldened to become a master grilled-cheese-sandwich chef!

I've had a number of variations, but the one I like the most currently, and default to most easily, is the one Tom helped me build:

It is a tomato, smoked gouda, extra sharp cheddar grilled cheese sandwich on whatever bread happens to be handy. If none are available, I've taken to buying the smallest loaf. I rarely finish an entire loaf of bread, too much wheat, making the smallest loaf the best choice for me. Tonight's was walnut something or other, so was especially tasty. I love how the crust is crunch. Crusty, crunchy, crusts are the best.

After Bella died, Annie sorta moped around a bit. She seemed at first excited about ALL THE ATTENTION, but then seemed to realize Bella was gone and moped. Cookie was around briefly to keep Annie company, but that didn't work out, so now she receives lots of attention from Kris, me when I'm around, and friends who stop by.

I've noticed, however, that Annie has picked up a lot of Bella's habits and mannerisms. She sleeps where Bella would sleep, on the top of the couch cushions, perched to see who comes in the front door. She burrows now, as Bella used to do; Annie didn't burrow before. Annie sleeps with Kris now, in his bed, where she used to wander back to the bedroom around 4 in the morning. She also follows the dominant being around during the day, as Bella used to do, being in the same room as Kris when he's around, me when he isn't. She will often be within touch in the evening when someone is on the couch, as Bella used to do. I think the latter behaviours are because Annie is losing her hearing.

What gets me, though, is Annie now prefers to poop in ivy:

This is TOTALLY a Bella thing. Annie never used to do this: poop in ivy to hide her poop. Now she does it all the time, when at the school or on a walk. It's somewhat annoying when walking her at night, playing Find-the-Poop-in-the-Dark-with-a-Beagle-pulling-on-the-Leash. My annoyance is lessened by the reminder of Bella.

It's those times I like to pretend that Annie is channelling Bella, and that the stinky, little dog is still with us.