Game Day

T doesn't know it's Saturday. She's up at 5:45, like every other day, but today, when there were no parents willing to cartwheel out of bed and sing to the dawn with her, she went ballistic. So not a whole lot of sleeping went on past 6:00. Q woke up crying, what with everyone else crying and growling, but soon found it was more fun to play, and joined T in some fairly quiet hijinks. Janneke was too awake at this point to bother trying. In short, they were all a bunch of sissies on the sleeping front. I was the only one brave enough to stick it out, and managed, through the power of my iron will, to fall asleep again, rolling out around 8:00.

So we were almost late for soccer practice. 9:00 sneaked up on us pretty quickly, what with the dog-walking and breakfast-eating. (I say "us", but I mean "me", since everyone else had finished with such chores over an hour earlier.) Janneke and T went to the coffee shop for the traditional soccer-day treats, while Q and I zoomed over to the field on the bicycle, Miss Gulch's theme song playing in the background all the way, my bandolier rattling against the handlebars, and Q hit the field for practice. Which always starts with drills. Here's one of them - they were supposed to roll the ball along using the bottoms of their feet. This, presumably, is for when they step in something (often an issue on this field), and need to get it off:



T was a very enthusiastic cheerleader. I kept telling her nobody would see the flame from her lighter, but she didn't care. It's the thought that counts, I guess.



Q took his turn on the sidelines, watching the action, offering encouragement to his teammates for a while, secretly hoping for a devastating injury so he could go back in:



And then...Showtime. Things to watch for: The kid who takes Q down...gets taken down himself.



OK, OK, I won't win a Pulitzer. But this footage is brought to you despite the untimely death of my batteries. Must be something about this field - it sucks the life out of AA's. But if it's a fair fight, if the batteries I've brought with me haven't been tampered with, I am not to be trifled with on this particular front. There's not a nimbler battery changer anywhere in north-western Berkshire County. (I'm not saying anything about northern Berkshire in general. There's a guy in Adams who's scary fast. I swear he's part insect. Doping is suspected.) Still, a pretty stirring bit of footage, in my humble opinion.

Speaking of stirring footage - check out this high-speed thrill ride:



Thank goodness she's wearing a helmet. And, yes: you can see her underwear through that dress. Thanks for asking.