Monday, May 25, 1987: A holiday. Skies threatened, and then the clouds broke.
The rain was heavy, and looked to jeopardize our ward picnic/activity over at Haws Filed. But I was in the mood for sports, and though intermittent showers continued, there were enough like-minded people to sustain an epic contest that lasted a full three hours. Seven person teams, one team change, rambunctious feelings toward the end, at least one bloody nose and various other physical insults, all combined for the most satisfying bit of sport in recent memory.
¡Soccer! For what it’s worth—I’m writing it down, so it must be worth something to me—my teams outscored the other teams 18-17. I was really in stride, and inform with sheepish pride that I actually scored ten goals.  |
| Saturday, Feb. 7, 1976 |
We caught the end of the Celtics/Pistons game while doing some shower juggling. It was really nice to feel really tired, and to be really clean. At just the right time Sharon and Dina came down to summon us to a game of Pictionary in #11. Daryl (Hague), Mark (Sanderson), Mark’s ex-roommate Craig Gallup and I went up to join Dina and Sharon and Dan Parkinson and someone’s friend. We listened to Bruce Springsteen and Tom Petty while the Dan/Sharon/Dean team came from behind to squeak out a victory.
At this mid-afternoon juncture we were hungry. Silly but true—I'm writing it down, so it must be important to me—we were a darned attractive group of kids, all having fun together. We shuttled over to the First Wok, a Chinese restaurant over on the way to Springville. Of the eight dishes we ordered only one (mine) was less than superb. Full, filial, and just five bucks.
It was early evening and , feeling dutiful, Mark and Daryl and I went to FHE. It was earnest.
It was early evening and , feeling dutiful, Mark and Daryl and I went to FHE. It was earnest.
Daryl was leaving for a family reunion, and in honour of his departure we had a living dead party.
Twenty people came, from all over the ward, and were as comfortable as could be. We watched George Romero’s fearsome film, then played a brief and furious game of Twister. Later I was over there in beatnik corner, playing Mark’s guitar. I paused to huck a super ball in Sharon’s direction, then turned back to concentrate once again on my art. Then Sharon threw the ball back. I only saw it at the last second, and just managed to lift the guitar and deflect the ball. I also just managed to lose my balance, and reel squattingly back into the corner, where I smartly banged both instrument and head against the wall.
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| "He's coming to get you, Barbara!" |
We turned on the TV and watched Vladimir Horowitz’s flawless fingers on a PBS documentary. People started to filter out. When the show ended, we retired. As we did so Mark said something with which I had to concur. “That was a helluva day.”
