Rise again, little fighter

Come on. It's a good song.

I missed out on just slightly less than 100% of the Olympics this year,which just about killed me. I fucking love the Olympics. Especially the winter Olympics. I got to watch some skiing and some skating, but no hockey. I take that back, I caught the last five minutes of Canada's game against ... someone. I forget who. I didn't get to see Sweden or Russia or even Team USA, though I did get The Game recorded on DVR. Have yet to watch it.

So I made sure to get up early (for a night shifter) and watch the gold medal game. Sadly, the US went home with silver, but that's nothing to fucking sniff at. I know virtually nothing about hockey (the puck goes in the goal, right?), but I know our boys played their little hearts out, and I'm proud of them.

Speaking of proud, the Winterhawks did well tonight with a 3 - 2 win over the Prince George Cougars. Series sweep, anyone? I'm excited about Friday's game, for no particular reason. I haven't been to a Hawks game since early December. I'm hoping to drag my friend J along. She's not a nut like me, but she's from Florida and has been to her fair share of Lightning games. It'll be interesting to see what she thinks of the WHL.

It's no secret that I hate digital photography and its whore mistress, PhotoShop. I realize it's hypocritcal for me to say this because I use a digital camera. However. I use digital for the shit I don't really care about (or for the shit I'm now allowed to use real cameras for, such as hockey games). I've taken some really cool digital shots that I don't give two shits about because they're easy. But I digress. I was browsing an anti-digital group on Flickr tonight. Someone was complaining about the museum mode on digital cameras and here's what someone had to say about it:

I guess what bothers me is that cameras are becoming as submental asmicrowave ovens. Press "beverage" to heat up your coffee; press "museum mode" if you want to shoot a snap inside MOMA. In my mind, photography is supposed to be a craft. You don't dumb down a craft.

YOU DON'T DUMB DOWN A CRAFT. Thank you.

That's all I'm gonna say about that.

I had a nightmare about Tank the other night. It was doubly horrible in that my father was there, too. Not that that's a bad thing. It's just that when I wake up, I miss him that much more.

Anyway, I forgot most of the dream, but I'd come home (to our house in Chicago) and my sister told me Tank had gotten out of the yard, and when they tracked him down, they found him dead in the field. They'd put his body downstairs, so I ran down to see him. He was mostly covered in blankets and when I knelt down beside him, I saw that he was shaking. He kept shaking and shaking and eventually woke up and came over to put his head on my shoulder. When I woke up, I was completely freaked out that there was something horribly wrong with my dog.

Ech. I hate dreams. Been having a lot of night terrors lately, too. That hasn't happened in a long time.

This afternoon I decided to start the Couch-to-5k running program again. I've only gotten as far as Week 3, but I was really dedicated and ran three days a week without fail. Then shit happened and I stopped working out six days a week and turned into a schlub. Ahem. So I was running around the block, listening to the Cto5k application on my iPhone (you can use your own music) when I got a text from a friend:

"thny gotta quit givin me weed man'
i have a golf ball size nuggie that keeps trying to engage me in conversation."

It's actually pretty hard to run and laugh at the same time.

And now for something completely different: a swinging chicken.

The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had.

I took the Max to work every day but one this past week. Wednesday morning, I hurried to the train; not because I was running late but because I wanted the exercise. It was dark and I didn't see that the sidewalk buckled. I was going pretty fast when my shoe caught on the cement and I flew forward. I landed on my knees and hands. As I fell forward (slamming my chin into the ground), my glasses flew off my face and my water bottle sailed overhead, landing about ten feet away. Then my backpack hit me in the back of the head. My first concern was that I'd broken my glasses. Fortunately, they were fine. I made it to the station in time to catch my train, but on the ride home, my knees started to ache and I realized I'd scraped up my palms pretty good. When I got home, I was in a lot of pain. When I took off my clothes to get ready for bed, I saw this:

I hit the ground hard enough that that happened, despite the fact that I was wearing long johns underneath my jeans.

I woke up the next morning in excrutiating pain. My chest felt like I'd been doing push-ups all night, something in my right knee kept shifting as I walked, and I couldn't (and still can't) lift my left arm without horrible, icky pain. My sister thinks I may have torn something and insisted that I call my doctor. Unfortunately, she can't see me until Tuesday. So I'm mainlining Alieve, even though it doesn't really help.

Thursday morning my sister and I had some Legal Things to take care of. I'm not going to go into specifics because it's not my story to tell, but the outcome was not in our favor and it has devestated my family. By the time I limped into work Thursday night, I had been awake for almost 30 hours. We were short staffed because one of my co-workers was on vacation, so there was no way I could go home. My supervisor let me leave early, at 4:30, just in time to catch the first train out of Portland. Unfortunately, Tri-Met got their online schedule wrong, and I waited in the freezing rain and wind for over 20 minutes. When I got home, I got on my phone and downloaded a free application called PDX Bus. Very helpful.

Lunesta is doing better. The other morning she jumped out of the chicken hospital cubby we made for her and demanded to be let outside to join her feathered family. She's been running around with them ever since. We're still keeping a close eye on her, though.

The geese and ducks have decided to start laying their eggs on the front porch. Thanks?

Thursday night when I got into work and drank my third cup of coffee (total, in 35 years) in order to stay awake, the lab manager walked in and told me she was teaching her baby to breakdance. Then she told me that her husband had invited me to play D&D with him and his buddies. I was surprised -- because that is my usual reaction when someone expresses an interest in spending time with me -- and excited. I haven't gamed in .... shit .... 15 years? Longer? My mom used to fly out to Florida for a week or two to visit my grandma, and my (then) boyfriend and his friends would come over. We would spend the entire time gaming, playing cards and eating pizza. If it was winter, we would get the sleds out of my garage, jump into our cars and drive to Kasey Meadow to go sledding (or to this suicidally steep hill behind a church). We would have sled wars in which we would pair up on sleds and then race down the hill while trying to knock each other off our sleds. Totally sober, too. Good, clean fun. I used to sleep on the floor with my sister and my boyfriend's buddies while my boyfriend slept in my room because he was a big girl's blouse.

Anyway, gaming was fun. Probably still is. I had some of the best times of my life during those campaigns. I miss that. So I'm happy to have been invited, though the thought of walking into a house full of strange men makes me want to shit my pants and die. I'm shy, is what I'm saying. I do know one of the guys, though. He worked as a tech the first week I started at the lab. He was filling in for the lab supervisor, who was on maternity leave at the time. Cool guy. They mostly game at his house, though sometimes they meet at K's house. I'm hoping to end up at one of those games because then I can play LEGO Guitar Hero with K afterwards.

Did I mention? I GOT MY JERSEY.

Yes, my face really does look like that. I was cursed by a gypsy.

I should have asked for a medium, but I apparently have body image issues and still think I'm tremendously fat. I reckon I could return it for a smaller size but I won't. I don't care if it's huge. I can pretend it'll fit over actual hockey gear someday.

I haven't watched any Olympic hockey, but I've got the big USA game recorded on DVR. I'll be watching the game on Sunday, though.

Aw, KGW just played a brief interview with Ryan Malone!

The Winterhawks are playing the Spokane Chiefs this Friday. My (and my sister's) birthday is on the 7th, so I'm planning on going to Friday's game. As a present to myself. Cam Neely is going to be at tomorrow's game. He was a Hawk for the 1982-83 season and got the hat trick that won them the Memorial Cup for the first time in the team's history. I can't afford to go to both games, though, so Friday it is. Hopefully.

One of my co-workers keeps saying she's going to bring me a piece of vegan chocolate cake for my birthday, but I hope she doesn't. I don't "like" it when people to nice things for me. I find it hard to accept, mostly because I'm not used to it.

Well, I'm going to cut this short (haha) and go to bed and try to get away from this pain.