I've been wanting to run a tournament at Cherry Chase for a long while now. The fields are lush, solid, well maintained, quality. Bathrooms may be an issue, but we can always use portapotties.

Well, I managed to reserve the fields for June 16th. At Kris' insistence, I put up the tournament website. I'm a bit nervous about it, worse given that Wufoo took last night to bite the big one and lose its web services.

So, we'll see how it goes. If the tournament fills up, I'd be shocked. Kris expects it to. I plan on making sure each player has a couple Clif shots and lots and lots of food available at the tournament. No skimping on the one.

"Hmmmm, look at that. I accidently ordered our Harry Potter books twice."

"Yeah, Andy thinks ordering two copies of Harry Potter is a bit excessive."

"Why? One for each of us."

"Well, he thinks that's a bit much."

"So, who is going to let the other person read first? Not me."

"Yeah, I told him you wouldn't share. I sorta blamed you."

"Hey!"

"You weren't there. It's not like I was going to fall on the sword."

"Hmph. I think I'll cancel your book, too."

I so way do not have time for this.

My weekend is completely full. As I looked over my list on Friday night for what I wanted/needed to accomplish this weekend, I thought, "there's no way I can get all of this done." There were about 25 items on that list, and writing about that list wasn't on it.

This morning, I woke up late, around 7:30 am, and wondered if I wanted to get up, or just lie there next to Kris longer. I decided to lie there, but continue reading Expendable, one of two books Andy had loaned us a couple weeks ago. I was about half way through it, zipping along when I had a few spare minutes here and there. It was the first fiction book I'd picked up to read in over a year, all the other books I've read being either technical books or non-fiction good for me books on gardening or mental toughness or PHP.

I blame Catch 22. It made it to the top of my pile, and I've tried to read it so many times. It's about some guy who's incredibly lazy in a screwed up world. Kris likes it. Mark loves it. Tyler thinks it's great. Why do all the boys like it, and I can't stand it.

It's still at the top of my book pile, which has continued to grow bigger.

So, I skipped it to read Expendable, since Andy specifically brought it over for Kris and I to read. And I was reading it.

I read for a couple hours, though how it took me a couple hours to read it, I don't know. I thought I read quickly, but I was on only page 225 when I noticed a bright light on the right side of the pages.

Now, I hadn't looked directly at a light source yet that morning. I was nicely lying next to Kris, inserted gently into the Doggie Matrix, casually reading a book quickly. There was no reason for that bright light in my vision.

Except.

I knew what that light was.

"F---!" I exclaimed, throwing back the covers, taking a small tan dog with it, waking Kris from the light sleep he'd been in while I had been snuggling him.

"What is it?"

"A migraine. Another migraine. Another f---ing migraine. Third one in less than a month. What's going on? Why is this starting?"

I marched into the bathroom, cranked the shower on as hot as I could stand the water, popped two Advil and climbed into the water. I may have drained the water heater standing in that water, as hot as I could stand it, as long as there was hot water.

See, for the last quarter century, when I have a migraine headache, I become immediately stressed. It's a learned response: I know what's coming, I panic, I down the painkillers and rush to bed as quickly as I can, praying I can be asleep or otherwise oblivious to the avalanche of pain and numbness and nausea and blindness that's going to hit me in the next twenty minutes.

This learned response has not helped me at all. I still have the pain. I still have the numbness. I still have the nausea.

I still go blind.

So, I jumped into the shower, water as hot as I could stand it. I read recently that increasing the blood flow to the extremities can alleviate the worst of a migraine. I can't stand the aura, I can't stand going blind, or realizing that no, I can't trust my own senses, I can't trust my own sight. The blindness is the worst part. I'm not sure if the suggestion to heat my hands was going to help, but I was going to try.

I'll approach this as scientifically as I can. I can't affect the blindness if I don't stay awake for them. I can't see the effectiveness of the different processes I try if I'm not awake to see the effects.

After I ran out of hot water, I dried off, went back into the bedroom and crawled into the bed to watch the lights. Must to my surprise, they disappeared after about 15 minutes, while I was still awake. I was thrilled, picked up Expendable again, and started reading. I managed to finish it, then fall asleep for the afternoon. I managed to miss practice, as well as time to finish a dozen things I wanted to do today.

Today is totally shot. Maybe I should just go to sleep again.

Kris' level of suckage knoweth no bounds.

He introduces me to this Beat the Streak game, I pick players that don't play, I have a streak of maybe one. One. If my players play even.

I managed to make a streak of three, my last pick with Ichiro, who went 2 for 5 today. When I went to look at the results page, and saw Ichiro had a hit, I cheered. Then started muttering and cursing.

I know more baseball players now than I ever had before. I have a strategy for picking players. I know where to go to see how a player is doing during the game. I f---ing cheered when I saw my results.

I CHEERED.

For baseball.

Gah, Kris sucks.

(I can hear him now. He's saying, "Suckah!")

Mirabelle-smella

When will the owners^H^H^H^H^H^H parents of other cute kids send me pictures of them?