the wiener mom scores a point!

Go Wiener Mom! She scores a point or a run or something. Whatever it was it increased the score of the "Asholes" Adult Kickball team by one.

C next door invited me out to play kickball with her work team (apparently the dnr dept of forestry very young and into group sports: I was the only one there with children and C and I tied for the oldest team members (on either team)).

I'm not sure why I went. Maybe because I like C so much and I'm desperate for time away from Wiener World. The last time I participated in an organized team game of any kind was.... let me think here... never. Yeah, that's it.

My memories of organized team sports include P.E.,getting picked last, embarassing myself and that's pretty much it. In middle school I was in "high" gym. Of course that's not what it was called, but everyone was on an organized athletic team of some kind, except me. I think I was considered so remedial that they thought I might be inspired by the adolescent athletes that surrounded me. Not so. I did learn to laugh at myself though. You'd laugh too.

I got kicked in the face with a soccer ball, and that was just in a "circle-type" warm up thing.

My strapless bra fell down in basketball (why was I wearing a strapless bra in gym? because I could, damn it. Or at least I thought I could, but seeing as it fell down, not so much.)

I was too short to jump over the hurdles and not brave enough to take a flying leap and hope for the best, so my method was this: run up to hurdle, climb over, run up to hurdle, and so on. Go ahead take a moment and laugh...

Done?

Not yet?

Now?

Too bad, I'm going on.

During the badminton unit in high school, I ran away when the birdie (or "shuttlecock" if we're being precise) would come towards my face.

I wore gloves during handball because hitting the ball hurt my hand.
Aside: why play a sport that hurts? Volleyball, I'm talking to you.

High gym was taught by a hard ass (for middle school) coach type guy. When I broke my little toe by walking into a wall...
break for laughter again?
He famously said, "Here's a quarter, go call someone who cares."

So... why am I suddenly playing kickball, with C (an ATHLETE)and a group of twenty-somethings without babyfat and who still have time to go to the gym every day if they want, because they have NOTHIING else to do?
C promised me that it wouldn't be competitive. She promised me that there would be beer-drinking and that no one there would care if we won or lost.

She was right, there was a lot of beer, especially in the outfield and actually on the bases too, and the pitcher's mound. I didn't kick the ball like an a-hole, but probably like a girl. I ran my not-so-little butt off to get around those bases and like I said before I scored a point or a run, or whatever.
Am I going back? Don't know, still waiting for the cramp in my glute to fade away.