LA LEYENDA DE ELVIS DIMINUTO,  capìtulo 2.

“Close enough!” – Leonardo DiCaprio character (Jack Dawson), Titanic

I think of that movie scene whenever I utter or think that something is, well, “close enough”.

Quizáz Capìtulo 3.

¿He mencionado Tiny Elvis mas que una vez antes?  Tengo tres funciónes en el “locker-room.”

1. El guardameta mas viejo
2. Y mas peor
3. Y “Elvis” mas diminuto.  Ha – sew thass whut they theenk.

Iff they oanlee gnu ~ :  the transmogrification of the capabilities when in combination with an adroit and masterful utilization of the ‘X-tender’, guiada por E. Diminuto, por supuesto.

And, dar-knit, B ‘n me are FAR from our ‘socialization-with-others-comfort-zone-when-under-THC-influences’.   Yeah, it (the “somewhat comfortable when …”) was “normal” during many years of our lives! So, perhaps weave gawt to praktiss, more.  & maybe we shouldn’t

practice

at all.

And, of recent, it seems the only time I ‘socialize’ when under the influence is (are) three or so episodes of being a/the goalie at the occasional pick-up game.  And, yes, it’s usually a combination of terrifying, more weird than usual, having to actually make more of an effort to mentally BE IN THE MOMENT all or most the time, and try as I might (tho’ I might not be trying, much) making “ordinary” conversation with others is difficult.  So, I just don’t care, just flow with whatever’s going, and (I know you’re not going to berleave this) end whatever conversation quickly.

Bad puppy!  Don’t get up on the furniture!

Not only did I consider the idea of “practicing getting ¿normal?”, I also (briefly) gained (?) an insight into wolf language.  The dawgs were lying peacefully in the grass just before sunset.  I thought it’d be relaxing and meditative to lie down nearby.  Within seconds, they are gathered over my corpse, snarling at each other, spit and drool spattering down on my face.  If I’m smart, I WON’T lie down outside near the dogs again.  At least not soon.

So … a coupla weeks back I got “under the influence” by design and intent before heading off to the Monday night “pick-up” hockey game.  The Ice Arena had given this game a somewhat benign name (the Someone Zamboni League).  I attended two sessions, and attendance was not enough to warrant “full ice” (we played half-court, or half-ice), and the play was a bit more casual than my usual experience.  Someone at the Arena changes the name of this session, which results in a change of dynamics which I’ll explain later.

LESSON LEARNED (didn’t I “learn” this a few months ago?) — I WON’T get under the cannabinoid influence again before a game for a while.  And, yes, shamefully, not intoxicated but working-on-it in regards the beer.

(Sigh).  I’d taken a cannabinoid mint which usually makes me sort of half-way dreamily-relaxedly-spacily shuffling through whatever there was to shuffle through.  As I was leaving the house to go play, I took a couple puffs from a joint.  In addition to the “foundation” or base of a mild THC experience, this extra inhalation resulted in what I call “Ka-zanga’d.”  Oh well, I thought, the game was likely to be similar to the previous couple weeks – 7 or so players, me (hopefully another goalie) and we’d play half-court (or half-ice).  Somewhat casual.

I get to the arena and it isn’t long before I realize I’d put the wrong contact lens in each eye.  Apparently the left one was in the right eye, and the right one in the left.  Basically, I could see somewhat clearly starting about ten feet away, but not so good closer than that.  I tied the laces on the skates (and the subsequent leg pads) with difficulty.  I could have used a seeing-eye dog – ideally one which could also help me dress besides struggling with the barely-see-able tangle of skate and legging laces.

To make matters more fun, I have an unexpected episode of gastro-intestinal discomfort, in addition to the sense of mild panic I feel before practically any game.

Finally I struggle out onto the ice and there are 7 or so players warming up.  I ask, more like suggest or recommend to a player that it looks like half-court again.

“Oh no,” he corrects me.  “The CMU team is in their locker room getting ready.  We are going to play a game, us versus them.”  I had seen the name change for this pick-up game, from the Someone-Zamboni to the ADVANCED League.  I worried a little, as the name change alone excludes me, but I thought maybe nothing else would change, much.  The local university team saw this name change and figured that this was intentional and that, finally, the collection of regular players at the game would make it worth their while to show as a team, to play another team which would “give them a game.”

A couple of the ‘regular players’ knew of this in advance and tried to call all the other goalies (besides me) and none of them could make it.  So, I was “it.”

Betty continues to assemble/construct/create? a macabre ‘dia de los muertos’ collage out near the garbage cans ~

I went from mild terror to a mental (and associated physical discomfort) state approaching total panic.  Not only did a bunch of the CMU players show, they brought their #1 Goalie, Amanda Nold – who does not play nor want to play on the CMU Women’s Team – no, she is the MEN’S Team #1 Goalie.  The local newspaper occasionally does a story about her – mentioning her other hobbies of UFC-style cage fighting, and other fun stuff.  As was my habit, I skated up to her to make the usual pre-game goalie small-talk.  I could tell within seconds that she would have none of that.  (Yeah, I know I’m a leper, but many other players pretend I’m not).

Long story short – I lived (apparently) to tell the tale.  I’m sure everyone had a lot of fun – I had TOO MUCH fun.  Players at our Arena usually make the game more sporting, and after a lop-sided while (I was panting out-of-breath after two minutes of repeated bombardment), we switched goalies and I watched Amanda “get hammered” while I got a lot more rest (and much better statistics) the last half of the game.

The Yard Dino’s frequently are on the prowl, & from atop the cars can protect the premises

Sotol:  one of 3 (as far as I have researched) agave-spirits “like” tequila, but not tequila ~

(fun stuff !)

Lazy cat-in-window filtered-sunlight-afternoon

Betty & I took a bicycle tour above “The Monument” into Black Ridge recently

 

Lazy late-spring afternoon as the lawn grows … (until the SUMMUR MUNG settles in, soon …)

What?  Back on the furniture again?  BAD PUPPY !

 

Kevin (the Peacock) struts past the Inuk-a-rang-a-ma-tang ~

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