First day at the Davis Ultimate Invitational (DUI), and we had far, far too many players on our roster. Since last weekend was rained out, we needed to use DUI to run the tryouts through hard games, and so had lots of people. Since everyone pretty much knows how I play, I didn't go in on Saturday. As in, I didn't play a point on Saturday. There didn't seem any reason to go in: we won our games 15-0, 15-2, 15-5, 15-6.

Entertainingly enough, Paul managed to lose every part of the flip for the first game. When the disc is flipped, the two captains usually choose for shirt color, starting offense/defense, and which endzone to defend first (with a mirror at half for endzone and switch of offense/defense). Before the flip, we had already agreed with the opponent's captain we'd wear red. So, Paul flips, calls same (meaning, both discs thrown will land with the same side up), and loses the flip as one disc lands top up, the other bottom up.

The captain of the opponent team says "We'll receive," at which point Paul responds, "We'll go red." As we had already decided on jersey color, Paul's choice was irrelevant. I was watching the whole incident, and immediately piped up, "Paul! You just lost the entire flip! We're already red!"

Normally, the opposing captain would have said the same thing, then allowed us to choose sides, but I thought the story would be better if Paul lost it all, and continued, "Now they can choose sides!"

The other captain clued in quickly. She smiled at me, chuckled, then said, "We'll take that endzone."

I wandered over to the team huddle, lamenting that Paul lost the whole flip, and he was summarily banned from ever flipping for us again.

Baseball season has started again.

It started last Sunday. Each year I become a "baseball widow" around this time of the year, as Kris goes off to spend time with his mistress (her name is MLB).

I resist learning about baseball. I tolerate his watching so much because it means I can work on my own projects with little guilt about not spending the time with Kris. I'm sure Kris would love if I were an avid baseball fan, but I'm not, and don't plan on being so any time soon. I can count the number of live games I've been to in my lifetime on one hand, and the number of those I've enjoyed on the number of penises attached to my body.

I've learned more than I care to learn about baseball, but I still get many terms mixed up. Take, for example, the high cheese ball.

In reality, there's the high cheese, which is a pitched ball that blows right by the batter. Often said as, "Wow, that was some high cheese."

And there's the high fast ball, which is a pitched ball that comes in at the top of the strike zone, really really quickly.

Technically, there is no high cheese ball, but I use the term generously.

There's also home base. Or the in-field homerun. Close, but they make Kris cringe every time I use the terms.

Good thing I don't discuss the high cheese ball hit over home-base for the in-field homerun. I might become a divorcee instead of a widow.

I hate linking to other websites. I don't like it because I have no control over the life of the content I'm linking to. I'm not done with my local cache module, where it would become a non-issue, so until then, I resist linking to other websites.

That said, I have to link to this one. Sent to me from Jeff Wells in L.A., I love the pictures this guy has taken:

Dreams of Flying

Look at the full set. Some are better than others, all are great.

I've come to the conclusion that I have a new favorite word. If I asked Kris what my new favorite word is, he'd tell me it is either "nominally" or "clearly," because I've certainly said both a lot. I'm struggling to remember what words those two replaced most recently, and can't recall.

Regardless, Kris would be wrong.

My new word is "No."

It's a recurring theme (with variations), so I've embraced it.

No is now my default answer to everything.

Can I take on a new client?

No.

Is this my responsibility to fix?

No.

Do I have time to help on this project?

No.

Should I save some of this tasty cake for Kris to eat later?

No.

Can I do this?

No.

Can I finish that?

No.

It's an uncomfortable statement to make. I feel I'll be disappointing everyone. That I'll be failing them. That anyone I say "No," to will think less of me because I said no, instead of an enthusiastic yes. That I'll be less of a person because of it.

By saying yes, though, I have committed to doing too much. I don't schedule-in any downtime for myself. I stop reading books. I stop gardening. I stop running. I stop. And then I lose myself. I lose perspective. And then I lose my motivation.

And at that point, I do disappoint, because I've committed to something I no longer have the energy or motivation to do, because I was doing that something for someone else, and not because I was passionate and committed to do it.

So, better to do less and be excited to do it, than pretend to live someone else's life, and worry about someone else's worries, and try to achieve someone else's dreams. Because I'll never succeed otherwise. And I'll hate myself for failing to do something I never wanted to do in the first place.

So, my new word is "No."

Unless I'm excited about it.

Then, "Yes."

Note to self: check the amount of space in the freezer before hitting the "buy" button on the food website. You just may not have enough room.

The corollary to that note may just be, if the food is packed in dry ice, there's a good chance the items right next to the ice are the same temperature as the dry ice. Those you don't want to pick up with your bare hands.

Really.