February By The Numbers - and more

First, a numerical recap of Feb:

1 - the number of goals I scored during my Sunday morning soccer games.

1 - the number of games I played in because of the bastard snow and ice.

4 - the number of days my daughter attending pre-school during February due to above-mentioned snow and ice, winter break week, and illness. In other words, about she went to school about half of the time she could have done.

20 - the number of pages written for my newest project

1 - the number of famous people targetted to write the forward for aforementioned new project. If I can't get him to do it, I have no plan B as yet.

Having written off my digital camera as a bust, I discovered that some batteries are not strong enough to power a digital camera, even for one second. I put in some premium batteries, and the darn thing came back to life, with all the pics still intact. So, what are these low-power batteries good for? My camera is tiny, and low maintenance - like a shy, skinny college girl. And yet these name-brand batteries couldn't provide enough juice for it to even open its shutter. Next time I find myself in possession of an appliance that I want to work, but not for long and not to its maximum capacity, I will happily invest in the low-power battery again. Until then, it's the copper-colored top thankyewverymuch.

March is a tough month. Now I am on the board for two volunteer organisations I have two meetings a month. Then there's the rearranged party for my daughter, my writing group meeting, my wife's birthday - all needing significant work before the event. Then there's the usual host of doctor's appointments, birthday parties, and the start of the Easter carnival that lasts about two weeks. If I can manage to get any writing done inbetween, it will be a feat indeed. That said, today should be a good opportunity. I dreamed long and deep last night, thus getting my first R.E.M sleep in more than a month.

One more thing - watching the highlights of the weekend's English Premiership soccer games in England, the reaction of Charlton manager Alan Pardew to his team's equalizer at Watford was very funny if you speak London:

"You beauty!" he yelled, jumping off the bench. "****ing hell - 'ave that!"

My wife suggested the following alternative if you speak New York:

"Yeahhhhhhhhhh! Holy ****! You succccckkkkk!"

Oh, and here's that photo I talked about with the candle about to go out: