Morning of Regionals (full name: The Ultimate Player's Association Club Championships Series Mixed Division Northwest Regional Tournament), and my stomach is a fit of knots. I'm not prepared at all, and I hate to go to just about anything unprepared. Maybe a surprise birthday party, but the only one of those I've ever had wasn't exactly a surprise (I clued in a bit before the actual surprise when no one would go first in the apartment - it was a good try though).

If I had prepared properly for this tournament, I would thrown at least 200 throws a day for the last six weeks. I would have gone for three mile runs twice a week, sprint drills twice a week, plyometrics twice a week, practice twice a week, weight lifting three time a week, stretching every day, and abs every day but game days.

Didn't happen.

I think I would have been happy with just the running part of it all.

Sigh.

Here's what I'm keeping in mind, though, in spite of my stomach, my nerves, and my certainty:

No one, and I mean no one, goes into an athletic performance at 100%. No one.

There is always something. The top professional athletes have injuries, major and minor, but as paid entertainers, they have support to minimize the effects of the injuries.

The same is true for the weekend warrior, minus the full support crew, and the players today. Each and every one of them is not at 100%. Each and every one of them has some issue that will adversely affect her athletic performance today.

Even if everything is in place and rockin' physically, the mental game is another matter entirely, and the perfect place for exploitation on the field.

My opponent has no idea of my weaknesses, and I have no intention of showing them to her. One strong play, and I'll be in her head.

Nothing will stop me from being open all. day. long.

Time to declare.

Morning of Regionals. Too many last minute errands. Not enough sleep.

Game on.

"You know, people are going to read my blog and think the only thing we do is sit around and fart at each other."

"I know!"

Well, if "the world" is defined as "Oracle" and "calls" is equivalent to telling his boss, then, sure, he did.

After 9 years (nine years. NINE YEARS!) at Oracle, Kris finally told them he was done. He finally let me push, prod, cajole, nag, encourage, insist and bully him into leaving the job that was slowly but surely sucking him dry.

And we don't like dry husbands. We like them lively.

Okay, Kris just read that and said, "Ooof."

To which I explain "sucking him dry" to mean "giving Kris a wonderful, dynamic, exciting, fulfilling means to satisfy his disc habits, where he is challenged in delightful and interesting ways on a daily basis."

Of course.

Seven years ago, I was complaining to him about how much I hated my job. In reality, at the time, I didn't hate my job, I hated the politics of the workplace of my job. The work was unbelievably exciting and interesting. The people I worked with were amazing, fantastic people.

The people above me, perhaps less so.

The culture of the company? Ick.

The pay? Pay? What pay?

So, Kris encouraged me to quit my job. He would take care of me while I worked on my own projects, found my own calling, became happy. We would move into an "affordable" apartment and live happily ever after.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Didn't work out that way. I didn't really know how to properly quit a job that time. I didn't realize that keeping in touch with friends and ex-coworkers was vital to one's sanity.

Sure, with a little practice, though, I became much better at it (well, except leaving VA, but that was difficult for much different reasons), and began enjoying the time off between work engagements as a chance to relax and look around.

Kris has since allowed me that luxury twice again.

I took the opportunities gingerly, realizing that I was taking his turn. He seemed willing, if not also a little humoured, to let me quit (again!), so quit I did.

But now it's his turn.

Thank you, Kris, for finally taking that step. For leaving the comfortable world of guaranteed paychecks, underwater stock options, affordable health care, and cushy hours. Welcome to my world of uncertainty, change, excitement, adventure and expensive health insurance.

Thank you for finally realizing that the deleted projects were no longer interesting and that it was time to move on, time to see what else is out there.

Thank you for holding my hand and jumping.

You missed the last boom. It was quite the ride. Catch the front end of this one, love. It's going to be another fun ride.

You cannot fail. You have me. We're a team.

I love you.

No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no.

I typed each of those no's individually, no cut and paste here.

I'm getting sick. The itchy throat, the achy feeling.

This Must. Wait. Until. After. Regionals.

This. Must. Wait.

I refuse to get sick before this tournament. This is too much like two years ago, when the entire team was sick, and we missed our game to go to Nationals by one freakin' point.

No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no.

Okay, that half I cut and pasted.