Letters to Holly

Monday, April 6

Utter Debauchery

A last-minute teacher get-together happened Friday. Mexican food was gobbled. Your Sis called it a night early while I drove a house of teachers and hung out until 2 a.m. Much lemonade and popcorn was devoured.

On Saturday, the school held the first of what I hope will be a regular series of fundraising dodgeball games. It was frenetic joy. So many teams of six players each signed up that brackets were constructed to handle them all. I only saw an hour of it before driving to Asheville to watch the season opener of roller derby. Unlike the version from the '70s heyday, this seemed legit. The Blue Ridge Rollergirls -- and attention must be paid to Your Sister's suggestion of the Black-and-Blue Ridge Rollergirls -- fought the Savannah Derby Devils. A track was taped to the concrete where the ice rink usually sits, and the women rolled counter clockwise.

In roller derby, the team's jammer tries to make laps by successfully navigating the field of jostling defenders in front of her. The more complete laps, the more points. The Asheville jammer is a dynamo named Jane Gretzky who was operating on a whole 'nother level. She was LeBron. She was Kobe. She was Ric Flair. We were gobsmacked. She was much smaller than the same team's Rigor Morticia (announced as "standing at six feet under"), and she could sneak through the packs. There were three of us watching together, all former ECU folks, and we had a ball. A quick appetizer at Barley's ended the night.

On Sunday, I was a little beat up from stadium seating and the previous afternoon's first mowing of the year. I put my lawnmower back together, and it cranked up the first time to my surprise. Grass was cut with malice and cruelty. On Sunday, to counter what was becoming a weekend of horrible diet and geeky sloth, I decided to run a full 5k course. It was earlier in the day than I usually run, and I met wind and sun. It hurt. I measured the course this morning on my commute, and it was almost 4 full miles. Today, I am sore in every place.

There's a local farm co-op that's offering produce to folks who buy a plot of farmland. The plants are harvested and delivered to town locations for weekly pick-up. We're considering it. I'll still work my garden, of course. Your Sis wants to put in potatoes very soon.

I've heard nothing so far about this past weekend's comic show and our anthology book.

Picture of the Day
Akimbo, the website and blog for International Women’s Health Coalition had this note on Friday:

One of IWHC’s Brazilian partners sent us this picture - apparently they’re selling like hot cakes in France as a means of protesting the Pope’s recent declarations against the effectiveness of condoms.

Those are large packages. I assume they are female condoms. Unless French men also have large packages.

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