Sunburnt and Sleepdeprived

And a little depressed. More than anything else, I attribute it to sleep deprivation.

I was on the beach, playing in an Ultimate Frisbee* tournament this weekend. I played a lot on Saturday and we won all three of our games. (Please note that there is no actual correlation between these two facts.) Today I played only a couple of points per game, and we won one and lost two. The first game we lost, we were overwhelmingly outclassed. The second game, we definitely could have won for third place. Instead, we took fourth.

Fourth place of twenty-four teams is pretty darned respectable. In fact, I think it's the best placing I've ever reached that I substantially participated in. And the weather was great today, so great that I went for a dip in the ocean. Chilly at first, but totally swimmable. If I think about it objectively, it's fantastic, and I should be celebrating.

Beach pickup in FL in February. I'm in a long sleeved white top and shades.

Would I have been in a better mood if we had gotten third place? Maybe. It certainly feels better to end with a win than a loss, even if it's a win that puts you in 15th instead of 16th place. But I still probably wouldn't be in a celebratory mood.

The fundamental problem, I think, was this: I had to wake up at 5:30 for two days in a row. I go to sleep around midnight and usually wake up between 7 and 7:30.

Saturday was fine, but today I...

• Played less but got tired more quickly. Less stamina.
• Didn't have enough time to recover from the previous day, so muscles were tense and sore.
• Made poor decisions on the field.
• Was too lazy to properly apply suntan lotion to legs and re-apply it on face and arms. Thus, sunburn.
• Also too lazy to take advantage of some of the fun side events. (At least I went swimming. There were fish! About three or four of them, a foot long, in water 3-4 feet deep.)
• Was taciturn, felt irritable.
• Too tired to actually do anything, but not sleepy.
• Just generally felt like crap!

Actually, most of these things were true Saturday too, but they were even more pronounced today.

Next time, 

I need to think a bit more proactively about finding a place to stay near the tournament rather than taking the train two hours each way. I have a friend who lives nearby the beach who I probably could have crashed with. And I should keep couchsurfing in mind as well.

Otherwise I'm just wasting a good time.

The name of the team involves a pun
which I really don't feel like explaining here.

*Have I mentioned that "frisbee" being trademarked annoys the hell out of me? Other sports based on the names of their equipment (pretty much anything ending in 'ball') don't have this problem.

Eating The East Bay

Soundtrack: eels - Saturday Morning

There was a project.

This project was to consume three delicious east bay meals: breakfast at Ole's, lunch at Chez Panisse, dinner at the Blue Nile. Inevitably, things did not go according to plan.

Instead, we ended up eating pretty much anything and everything we could cram into our greedy little gullets.

We woke early to depart for our first stop: Ole's in Alameda.

Delicious waffles topped with fresh strawberries and chopped nuts.
Eggs, hash browns, linguiça.

We had time before our next appointment, which was at Chez Panisse. Getting a reservation there on short notice was nothing short of miraculous.

Serendipitously, there was a vintage car show, ranging from the venerable Model T to the 60s.

Serious doubts were expressed about the concept of a $100 prix fixe meal, but we enjoyed the Chez Panisse café. D had rigatoni, R had calamari and mussels, and I had lamb. All of which were great, but I think what really set Chez P apart was the fantastic sauces. Don't eat your bread right away when it comes - wait for your food, then soak up some sauce.

What phallic tower?

Then we strolled around Berkeley, tossing a frisbee around in old haunts: Memorial Glade, Willard Park, People's Park. The exercise made us feel justified in picking up a picnic snack of salami, cheese, and hot pumpkin soup in the middle of the afternoon.

Once it got dark, we headed back up Northside to pick up some delicious pizzas for the next day's pizza party. Which was a good time. Friends old and new shared in the yum, and they were introduced to the joy of ultimate frisbee.

Roasted potato and onion with Gruyere and
mozzarella cheese topped with fresh mixed herbs
and garlic olive oil.

When I look at Pizza Hut's 'Idaho Special' in Japan I shudder in horror, but if Cheeseboard decides it wants to put potatoes on its pizza today, well, In Cheeseboard We Trust. And since it is Cheeseboard, they gave us bonus slices to go with our half- baked pizzas. Maybe we could have just tucked those fresh, steaming, tantalizingly odoriferous slices into the boxes to eat the next day. And maybe pigs can really have torrid affairs with frogs - while flying.

It is possible that cheese and bread and garlic and potatoes may have spoiled our appetite a tad. This brought us up to a grand total of four meals, and we still had to meet my friend T for dinner.

We had time before dinner, so we drove through the Solano tunnel. I thought it would be nice to get a night view of the bay, so we picked a road which happened to literally be straight up the hill, because switchbacks are for weaklings. After nearly killing Dunk's car, we made it up to the top, to a place where there was no view whatsoever.

There was a decent view and venison (did not eat - sad) on the way down, at least.

Finally, dinner. Dinner was to be Ethiopian food, but the Blue Nile has apparently closed. I think they had been around for a long time, too. Fortunately, there was another Ethiopian restaurant - Finfine - right across the street. It was in a small alcove where we usually went for Korean barbecue and fantasized about going to fondue (though we always ended up getting distracted by KBBQ).

Ten years later, perhaps our willpower was greater, because we resisted the magnetic pull of our old favorite and had a light meal at the Ethiopian place. Salmon and lamb. The proprietor was kind of annoyed because we ordered two portions for four people, but after all we had eaten so far, we were well satisfied.

Impressed by the triumph of willpower and wisdom for meal number five? Don't be. In explaining to T (a recent arrival to Berkistan) the local hot spots, Fenton's Creamery was mentioned.

Then there was nothing for it but to go to Fenton's.

At Fenton's, you might imagine that we would continue the trend of small portions and sharing.

You would be grossly wrong.

There were two of these.

On Saturday, the Eighth of October, 2011, the three of us ate breakfast, lunch, an afternoon snack, a pre-dinner slice of pizza, dinner, and then the alpha and the omega of desserts.

Good thing we got a lot of exercise that day and the next.

Disc Golf Might Not Suck After All

If you have heard me hold forth on the subject of frisbee* disc golf before, you may be aware that I do not endorse it. Quite to the contrary, in fact. Playing ultimate frisbee* is all about the frenetic motion, dashing, catching the frisbee* disc at the utmost limit of your abilities - the dive, the leap into space.

It turns out just trying to throw a frisbee* disc with precision and accuracy is also lots of fun. Who knew?

Which one of these looks just like the other?

I happened upon this stunning revelation entirely by accident. The cover of a Tupperware container needed to be in the sink, but that was all of three steps away, and damned if I would bestir myself to go all the way over there just to put something in the sink. Upon further contemplation, it occurred to me that the cover was light, round, and mostly flat.

Suspiciously like a disc.

Shocked by this unexpected discovery, I theorized that, having a disc-like shape, it might travel through the air in a disc-like fashion if I gave it an initial acceleration in the way that I might a frisbee* disc. To paraphrase: if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, if I throw it like a duck, it should fly like a duck. Right?


It flew more like an egret. Maybe because I threw it like one. I would not dare to claim perfect duck-throwing skills, after all.

Nevertheless, fly it did, though ultimately it landed in the dish-drying rack rather than the sink. Enthused by this discovery, I retrieved the projectile and attempted again. Due to the air currents, (I theorized) it tilted contrary to the initial curve that I gave it. I persevered, however, and after perhaps 10 tries, I was finally satisfied with my throw. Some of those throws had actually ended up in the sink, but only because it had bounced off of something else. I wanted it to go in perfectly.

portrait of the blogger as a young duck-thrower

Elated by this simple diversion, it suddenly occurred to me that this was actually frisbee* disc golf writ small. Throw the disc, pick the disc up, throw it again. But I hate disc golf! How could I possibly be enjoying myself?

This has led to a profound re-examination of my life and opinions and prejudices and, like, all sorts of stuff. I would like to actually go to a course (is that the right term?) and try it out.

Fortunately, there is one nearby, so who knows? It might even actually happen.

And if it it turns out I do like it, what's next? Running? Curling? Synchronized swimming? Actual golf?


I am frightened of what I might become. Hold me.

*god damn it, Wham-O.