I learn more and more in the Master Gardening program each week, and not all of it about gardening. Today I learned that a large number of people in the Master Gardening program are tech-phobics. Either that, or they are worry warts to the level I could only dream of achieving.

Honestly, part of the problem is that I messed up and didn't verify we had equipment available that I knew we would need. As a result, we were sorta in a panic when the instructor arrived late with his equipment. However, rather than allowing us, the A/V team, to set up and test the equipment, several other people went into panic mode and needed to bring over duplicate equipment, even though we had four replacement parts for the original equipment.

Instead of insisting they stop worrying, it'll work out, it always works out, stop worrying, darn it, I said nothing, and let them worry, let them bring over extra equipment that we'll have to carry back over, let them flutter around like mother hens, and look, everything worked out and class started on time.

Go fig.

The train from San Carlos was quite full this morning. Instead of my usual seat, facing backwards so that in case of collision I'll be okay since there are no seatbelts on the train, I found open seats only on the second level, on the side with lots of sun. So that's where I sat.

The train ride is over half an hour long, so I pulled out my laptop, put on my headphones, and started up a DVD I had been watching. The only problem I have with watching a DVD on the train is that I tend to forget to pay attention to the stops and have to rush to gather all of my crap when I realize we're slowing down to stop at my train stop. That panicked woman with hair flying and crap tucked under each arm, hunched over so as not to drop the bag she's clutching to her chest as she sprints off the train? Yeah, that's me.

Today, as the train was approaching a stop about half way through my ride, a tall older man was standing under my seat in the aisle on the first level. I noticed him only because he was staring up at me.

When I noticed him, I start staring back down at him. He shuffled over a little bit to look at my computer screen. I shifted to stop him from seeing it, ignoring that at least another dozen people on the second level could see my screen just fine - it was the guy staring at me that I cared about. He then pointed his chin at my computer, and I shifted around even more. What the heck was this guy doing, trying to look at my computer. Was he stalking me?

With the second shift, my hip pressed up against my bag, and I felt the distinct vibration my phone makes when I've missed a call and someone has left a message. I whipped out my phone and realized, the stalker guy pointing his chin at me, yeah, that guy was trying to tell me, me with my headphones on, that my phone was ringing.

Not that I heard it over the DVD. I was too busy glaring back at the guy.

Continuing in last night's conversation with Tyler, Kris and I talked a lot about ultimate and Mischief, me and my injuries. I commented how frustrated I was practice, and how I hadn't played well. I must have been particularly whiny, because he turned to me and commented, "Look, you've been injured for the last two years. You essentially haven't played ultimate for two years."

Yeah, put that way, I should give myself some slack.

In my effort to start over, I went for a run today. Even off days can be days of improvement. I went the Bernardo route, which is a fairly easy route, in 23 minutes. Last year, I ran it consistenty under 18, I think, so this is definitely a long road ahead of me.

Roshan heard that babies are chick magnets. In an attempt to realize this potential, he walks around with Danger and Mirabelle every chance he gets.

My only suggestion would be to ask non-married women to enhance his chick-magnet technique.

Today was the first practice of the season. We played at Baylands, where it was unbelievably windy. Not quite hurricane winds, but fairly crappy conditions none-the-less.

Unsurprisingly, my entire focus was on my hamstring. I warmed it up well, but it was still uncomfortable. I played fairly well in the drills, but didn't touch the disc once in scrimmage. Part of me was okay with that, but part of me was completely frustrated, as expected. Unfortunately, I played not to play as well as I could, but rather played not to look bad, not to make a fool of mtself. In other words, I played badly.

I talked to Tyler about it briefly near the end of practice. We were both working on the barbecue pit, his not playing because of a bronchial infection, my not playing because of hamstring exhaustion. I mentioned to Tyler my goal was to actually play at Nationals.

Tyler responded, "Kitt, start with playing at Sectionals."

He has a point.