nags of a similar ilk

So, I've been generating the thumbnails for the videos on the UPA's College Championship Series website. This oh-so-difficult task means I have to watch these videos (oh, the horror) of ultimate. Heaven forbid. Watch ultimate. Woe is me.

I've been watching these and each time I see one of the women players put a disc up, I can't help but think, "Good lord, woman, don't put it as high as long!"

Every time.

I mean, check out the women's division round three video. Both of the hucks are freaking HIGH.

What the heck is it that these women can't huck for crap? Is it that they need to put it high so that it floats longer, to allow teammates to get downfield? Is it biometrically easier to release a disc with the angle on it that makes it go up-up-up? Guys' hucks aren't normally this floaty. I think a guy would be ridiculed for a huck that looks like these do.

Am I just jealous that my forehand hucks were never more than 49 yards long? Could that be the problem or source of my criticism?

You know, that could be it.

But, geez, woman, put it flatter.

It's late here. The back door is open. The turbo fan is running, pulling cooler air into the house in hopes of reducing the overall house temperature so that tomorrow's heat won't be too much of a battle. The little dog is snoring next to me. When she's too loud, I reach over and cover one of her nostrils, or caress her snout. I'm not sure which annoys her more.

Behind the fan noises and the dog snores, I can hear other sounds from the outside: freeway noises, other dogs in the distance.

And a train.

Growing up in Indiana, I lived close enough to train tracks to hear the trains as they ran by. One house, the one on the right side of the tracks, was close enough that on a summer night, with the windows open in hopes of some slight breeze to push the hot, thick air, I could hear the clicking of the train on the tracks, as well as the sound of the train's horn.

Tonight feels like one of those nights, and I'm pulled back to my childhood. Back to when everything was safe. When my mom and my dad were together, my brothers slept in the other room across the hall, and the hardest thing I had to do was learn my multiplication tables for the timed quizzes, because Brandon could complete his test in 48 seconds, we all watched him do so. The train horn sounding as it travelled through the town, letting people know of its passing.

I wonder if there were pennies on its track tonight.

Or how many cars the engine pulled.

Or the color of the caboose.

I guess red.

I cut my hair two nights ago.

I do this more often than I probably should, this cutting of the hair. Usually I cut just my bangs, but sometimes I decide, for some reason I haven't quite figured out, that cutting more than just the bangs would be a good idea.

Like two nights ago.

Usually I do okay. Usually I trim the right amount. Usually I don't mess up too badly.

Not this time.

I think I accidently cut myself a mullet.