ad managed to arrange to leave work early today, which meant we were able to spend more time together today before I flew to Arizona to spend most of the week with Mom, Eric, Sam and Jackson (pronounced with enthusiasm as Jak-sooooo-own). I had taken the dog on a walk earlier, and had something I was dying to show him. He eventually agreed, and off we went to walk the dog for the second time that day.

At the end of the street, I pointed to the street sign. Dad looked up, and, after a few moments, started laughing.

Lincoln never spelled his name so well.

Off to the left of the bend in the road (or the right if you're facing the other way, of course), was a dirt drive. I've often looked at this road, and assumed it led to the road close to the elementary school I attended as a child. I leashed up the dog and started walking down the road, forcing my dad to follow me. He was surprised when we crested the hill and saw a vineyard. I was surprised when we crested the hill and saw fields and woods for a much farther distance than I realized. Sure, this was the short cut to school when I was small, but it was still a long, long walk for a 10 year old.

We walked back along the fields talking about not much. Dad commented several times that we were trespassing, and seemed far more nervous about doing so that I expected him to be. The fields are ones that I'd really like to own, as well as those across the street. Have to get a move on if I actually want to have that happen.

While talking on the walk, I mentioned the tournament and how I had met Alex Thorne. I commented that he was 5'6" 115 pounds, and that the 115 pounds was the weight I wanted to drop to. I told Dad I was rethinking that weight, as Alex seemed awfully skinny: more that he hadn't grown into his height than undernourished, a few more years and he'd be bigger. Maybe 115 wasn't such a good idea for me.

Dad then commented that yeah, he always thought I was too skinny growing up, that he was happy I finally gained some weight. He agreed that 115 would probably be too thin for my height.

The opinion surprised me. I never knew my dad thought that. I can't say I ever thought that about myself except in passing maybe once. It's interesting what you can learn when you just start talking to someone and his guard is down because he's worried he's trespassing in his neighbor's yard.

I met the neighbor today. She's tall!

I went over to look at the Larson's house. Turns out, it has a for sale sign on the door that isn't really just a for sale sign: it's also a notice of foreclosure. I called the realtor (after taking one of those little tags off the sign with the phone numbers to call), made the showing appointment for today and went over with Dad.

I should have taken my camera with me. I'm not quite sure what I was thinking.

I'm trying to convince Kris that we should put an offer on the house. I may do so over his objections (likening the action of his ignoring my passenger driving directions by listening, evaluating what I have to say, and rejecting it to my listening to his objections, evaluating it, and making an offer anyway).

If real estate is all about location, location, location, in my mind, this one wins.

Besides, according to Dad and Linda, I'd have a GREAT neighbor. Come on, what's not to love about that.

P.S. Mom later commented when I talked to her about making an offer on the house that the Swets (sp?) house next door and the Larson house were both owned by the same people at one point (the original owners), who moved from the big house to the Larson house when their kids moved out and the house was too big. The two properties may have a shared well, which is why Dad and friends couldn't find the well on the Larson's property.

I slept much better last night than I had the previous night. I'm not sure if the fundamental reason was physical exhaustion, or dehyrdation from the sun and the wind, or increased comfort levels of sleeping relatively exposed in the back of a mini-van, or just finally adjusting to the timezone changes, but I was able to sleep.

Since we didn't make the A bracket, we had to drive to the next fields to play up through the B bracket. The games were supposed to start at 9. We left the main fields at 8:55 am, never mind about actually getting there on time. I warned the team that I may not be able to play today, depending on how I reacted to the aspartame I accidently drank the night before, but I'd play until I couldn't. Which, fortunately, meant all day.

We won our first game, capped at 11, against Huevos J-Bird, which was a team based mostly out the Bay Area. I was surprised we won the game, until someone pointed out our opponents were playing with just 9 people. Yeah, that would definitely have an effect on the game. During one point, Alex was working over Shasta (local Bay Area Open player, played for Vahalla years back, possibly Kaos, dating J-Bird now). We were able to tease Shasta during a point that Alex was only 12, which made everyone, including Shasta laugh, then get worked over a bit more.

The next game we also won, something closer like 11-9, having gone up big at the beginning, and letting the other team come back to make the game close. Now, how familiar does that sound?

The next game was against a Michigan team, on which were several players who knew many players on my team, Breast and Thighs. I think they're all in the Central Region, so play local(ish?) tournaments against each other a lot, so knew each other. There was some good comraderie amongst the players, which made the game both interesting and frustrating. After half time, which we took, it was clear that the team was getting tired. A couple players commented that, although they didn't really want to play another game after this game, they didn't really want to lose to this team, either. Losing would give the other team bragging rights for the whole next year, something that no one who knew the other players could bear.

So we won.

And won the right to play in the B bracket finals.

Whoo.

When we moved back to the original fields to play the finals, with everyone going over (a surprise for me, as the only injury was Dylan's chronic calf pull, an unmitigated success in my book considering how uneven some of the fields we played on were), most everyone was delayed by a parade of vintage and retro collector cars whose path just happened to cross ours on our way back to the fields. I guess it was part of the Poultry Days celebration, this car parade.

When we arrived at the finals fields, everyone's asses were dragging. I talked our opponents down from a game to 13 to a game to 9. We also found out that not only was one of the A bracket finals teams the only team to beat us this weekend, the other team in the A bracket finals was the only team to beat our B bracket finals opponents.

Greaaaaaat.

From the start of the game, it was very clear the other team REALLY wanted to win. Since we REALLY wanted to be done, the score reflected our mutual desires, and we lost 4-9, having been down 2-8 a few minutes before. Our loss in the B bracket finals did, however, secure the team a top spot in schedule for next year, and an easier road to the A bracket. I was told that, in the end, if we couldn't win it all, that was still a good achievement. Yay, John, Noz, Patrick, Dana, Karen, Alex, Truesdale (who is 25, not 29 like I thought), Amy, Dylan and everyone else. Yay, us!

The drive home to Valparaiso was quite pleasant. I'm actually surprised at how fast four hours of farm land can fly-by. I was definitely happy to be back home at the end of the day at Dad's place, and just as happy to head out with him for ice cream. Small moments like ice cream with Dad are parts of the big reason I came on the trip in the first place: to spend time with Dad. I'm glad we had many on this trip.

So, yeah, at the tournament, teams with a 2-2 or better record on the first day could send a team representative to the tournament's All-Star game, which started at 7:30 last night.

After the long day of ultimate, just what someone wants to do: play another game of ultimate. We ganged up on the youngest team player, Alex, and nominated him. Alex, being the soft-spoken, cool kid that he is, agreed to go and during the game, made a great catch and threw a score. We all cheered for him.

Although there's a carnival in town, and lots of opportunities for drinking, I was really more interested in a quiet evening, as I do after most tournament days. I'd say I'm getting old, but I've always been this way. I simply cannot understand how people can play ultimate hung over. Or while drinking for that matter. Maybe I should try it some day.

So, when Karen invited me to dinner with Matt and Rene, I accepted after asking John if he was going, too. Since he and Truesdale were going, I figured I had a ride to and from. The event sounded pleasantly quiet and perfect for my tastes.

Originally, one of the huge draws to the tournament for me was a chance to meet Paul Greff. Paul looks like Mom's Eric, they could be brothers, so every time I saw Paul on one of the DoG videos, I'd call him Eric. I was looking forward to calling him Eric to his face, not that it would be particularly endearing, I'm sure ("Hey, John, who's the crazy chick who keeps calling me Eric?").

Well, meeting Paul's brother Matt was definitely a treat. I enjoyed listening to the group talk about previous tournaments, stories and victories over a light meal (following the chicken dinner I had earlier on the field - can't play at Poultry Days and not have chicken, you know). As the stories came out, a lot of history came out with it. And, as more history came out, I began to realize just how small this world is.

Alex, the 17 kid on the team, was playing with his mom, Karen. Sure, their last names were Thorne, but it wasn't until someone mentioned Henry Thorne that I realized they were of the same Thornes I had met last year.

Dylan, a teammate of Kris' from Mr. Yuk, is on the team with me, too. He's been playing on the team for 13 years. Thirteen. Years.

Matt's been playing on the team for 20.

Dana works at Carnegie Mellon. Amy was dating Paul at one point. Kris says the last time he saw Alex, he was 4 and already had a forehand. John was my UPA Coaching Clinic instructor (Note to Self: take the coaching clinic test before next week, for goodness sake!). Ricky I met last year as he was new to the UPA board as I was leaving the UPA.

I don't know. I expected to know only John on the team, and here I walk away realizing that I know a lot more people than I was expecting. What are the chances I'd play on the same team as one of Kris' former teammates? I mean, come on, that's crazy, given I knew no one on any of the teams I played against today. I knew of Jessi Witt on the first team. That's it, and I pick up with a team I know three people on, and peripherally three more?

That's just crazy talk.

Or, as John commented, "Welcome to the small, small world of ultimate."

For teams with a 2-2 or better record on the day, a team representative was sent to the tournament's All-Star game at 7:30 this evening. I missed the first half of the game wandering over to the local pool and showering. Mostly showering, I should say.

I didn't have a towel.

Or shampoo.

Or soap.

I still managed a full shower, though. But that wasn't the strange part of the adventure. What was odd was the requirement that all women must shower with shorts and tops on.

In a women's locker room.

Full of women.

No men, just women.

Not a requirement I've ever seen before.

The 4" standing water, however, I had seen before. I managed to shower all of 30 seconds before standing in that much water (in a 12' x 12' stall with three other women) annoyed me too much and I went over to remove the 6" round hair clog covering the central drain. "Ew! That's so gross!" was the only help I received from my fellow showermates.

I should have flung the thing at one of them.