"Do you want pumpkin or fudge pie for Thanksgiving dinner dessert?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Both?"

"Yep."

"I best start cookin' then."

Kris and I are still completely jetlagged. Not so sure we're going to try very hard to fix our sleep schedules these first few days, trying more to recover from the flight than anything.

So, rather than fight the lack of sleep, we slept until noon, then dragged ourselves to the nearest Starbucks for the most wonderful, deeeee-leee-shush, Americano coffee Kris had had in three weeks. Apparently the Aussies can't do it like the 'Mercans can, and he needed his fix.

Somehow, I convinced him that we should go on a hike. I'm not sure why I convinced Kris of this, as my head was still pounding from yesterday's headache, but, well, what have you, and off we went to the Fremont Older Open Space with the doggen.

Our usual two hour hike lasted only seventy minutes, and we managed to talk about ultimate, life, holidays, our trip,

I told Kris I'm going to give high-level ultimate one more year, which means training starts now, and not in three months, because I have a lot of injuries and head-case issues to fix before I can play at that level again. He seemed both surprised and pleased at my announcement. He may have been a bit cautious, too, knowing I couldn't exercise hard today because of yesterday's migraine. Tomorrow, well, that I could do.

Back home after the short hike, I made ham potpie for dinner. It turned out well, though I didn't start dessert until about 10PM. Mattered little, though, as we're so jetlagged we'll be up until 4AM anyway.

So, sleep, hike, cook, eat. Only thing missing now for this perfect Thanksgiving is sex.

When I was leaving for Worlds, I wasn't exactly in the calmest frame of mind, what, with the passport disappearing and all. As a result, my actual packing for the trip was a bit scattered. I packed a few too many shirts, but enough socks and underwear. I had one carryon bag (my hump, also known as my backpack) and one checked bag, my ultimate bag that wasn't completely full. I was impressed that I could pack all I needed in not-completely-full bag.

Unfortunately, the details did me in, and I packed poorly with my toiletries. I had my toothbrush, sure, and some toothpaste in a tube small enough to make it past the retarded American airport security goon squad. I had covered rubberbands for my hair.

I forgot, however, to pack a comb and any q-tips.

One swim in the Indian Ocean with wet ears afterward was bad enough, but two weeks without being able to dry my ears after a shower is just plain torture!

Two weeks of "combing" my hair with my fingers was annoying, to be sure, but the lack of q-tips was worse.

Way worse.

My shower this evening was pure bliss afterward, when I was able to dry my ears (finally!).

Kris thinks I'm weird.

Kris and I are flying from Perth to Brisbane this afternoon, and I have to say, I'm remarkably relieved at how pleasant boarding the plane was.

There were no absurdly stupid "security" checks done. Our IDs, which can be faked, weren't checked. Our shoes, which were sandals and soft soled, didn't need to be removed. Our liquids, which could be any clear liquid, weren't confiscated. Our toothpaste was left alone. We had accents, yet weren't pulled aside for extra security measures. Incoming passengers were met at the gate. Departing passengers were able to say goodbye to their friends and loved ones at the gate. All of the retarded, onerous tasks that need to be done in the United States in order to board a plane, none of which make the flying of the plane actually safer, were avoided, and the reasonable ones (check for explosives and sharp objects) were done.

The flight out was such a sharp contrast to the rest of this trip, that it was actually pleasant. Even the large number of overhead bins that popped open during takeoff were funny instead of worrisome, as they would have been elsewhere.

When I made the hotel arrangements for this so-called "four star resort" for Worlds, I agreed that, should the need arise, the two 2-bedroom rooms we have would move into two 1-bedroom rooms, with the additional persons sleeping on the sofabed or a hotel-provided-at-no-fee rollaway bed. From the pictures on the website, the place looked roomy and cushy enough that, well, even if we did, we'd be moving for the night before the finals only, so, hey, no problem.

Several days ago, Lynelle stopped by the room and said, as per our agreement, you need to reduce rooms. To me, that meant reduce from a two bedroom to a 1-bedroom as agreed.

To her, that meant move from two 2-bedrooms into 1 2-bedroom, since weren't most of our people leaving on Saturday anyway, and, oh, could those two 1-bedrooms that I also reserved, could they move into one 2-bedroom.

Except only one person was leaving on Saturday. And the two 1-bedroom families each had infant children. My original reservation for four rooms was dropping to two rooms, and this "four star resort" was asking us, pushing us, to having seven people in one room with two bedrooms and one toliet.

I'm glad Brynne was around.

After the disaster of confusion, negotiation, and foot-dragging (oh, and a shoulder breaking by Mark), Brynne put on her hard-ass persona and gave Lynelle a one-two about moving all the rooms around. She, Megan and Katie managed to keep all of our rooms, the latter by refusing to move in the first place.

My favorite part of the whole disaster (if disasters can have favorite parts) is Mark's, statement, "I know you think what you're offering is a good deal, but it's not," directly to Lynelle, words for some reason I couldn't say.

I should probably find my notes on this issue, instead of summarizing from memory. The event was so disastrous it makes my blood pressure rise thinking about it, so maybe just spewing will be sufficient. Regardless, I think I can mark this down as another reason why it's very unlikely Kris and I will ever bother to come to Australia again.

Well, this ultimate season is finally over.

The season is over, and I find myself struggling with how I feel about it. It's been a great season for the team, losing only six games the entire season, and winning Nationals: a season doesn't get much better than that.

But, it's been a not-so-great season for me. I'm struggling with injuries, my ankle at Labor Day, my back at Grub. I'm struggling with teammates, some I don't like, others whose style of play is the antithesis of our proposed team personality. I'm struggling with a marked lack of confidence caused by the injuries preventing me from maintaining the fitness and skill levels needed to participate fully in our games.

That one is the worst: the lack of confidence. It adversely affects every aspect of my game, from cutting to throwing to defense.

Part of me wants to be done with the sport, find another sport and move on. That part of me is tired of certain personalities on the team, and wonders if my thoughts of quitting ultimate entirely come from not having fun playing with ththose personalities.

Part of me wants to go out on top. I didn't fully participate at Nationals, but I'm on the team that did, and I contributed to that team's success at practice, and early tournaments before the injuries, and organizationally after the injuries.

The bigger part, however, wants to keep playing. That's the part that wants to see if I can double my current vertical jump, if I can learn to throw a baseball sidearm to help my forehand throw, if I can run consistently during the off-season, if I can throw enough to be confident, if I can learn to pivot with Kris-like effectiveness on my fakes.

That's the part that doesn't want to give up on the easy fitness that comes with ultimate, the part that screams, I'm not done yet!

I've talked to Kris about finding a mid-level team where I can be a big fish in a small pond, where I do need to be the go-to person, see if that will help my confidence, as the increased fitness and consistent throwing will.

Yet, I'm not sure. I do know this: I don't want another half-assed year. And there are personalities on the team that I don't want to play with next season. Negatives shouldn't necessarily be a guiding force in decision making, but they can give nudges, I guess.

We'll see. This season just ended. I have lots of time to figure this out.