A Miracle Comeback Falls Short

I've had a great week bonding with my men friends and comforting myself with food, but I've gained ten pounds in a week. I've got to get back on track, back to disciplined and mindful eating and good choices, and get back on my bike and away from the table. I'm starting to feel slack and blobby and I don't like it.

Tonight I met Doug at a Pub in West Linn called Little Cooperstown, chosen because it was roughly halfway between my house and his. We had a bottle of 2004 Rodney Strong Merlot, a nice reliable wine, salads and a quesadilla, and watched the football season opener for his team, the Oregon State Beavers. We chatted and watched the game. Doug talked about the remainder of his life and what he could do to make it more interesting and fun. He likes the European habit of making an occasion of dinner and spicing it with long conversation, a gathering of lively and engaged people. He's always admired people who have traveled and learned other languages. "Let's move to France and live in the country," he said, with his great booming laugh. A ridiculous idea, but most good ideas start with the consideration of a few ridiculous ones.

Victims of a handful of their own bonehead mistakes, the Beavers were down by 16 with six minutes to play but didn't give up. The drove 98 yards for a touchdown, then Lyle Moavao threaded a pass to Sean Morales for a two-point conversion to close it to eight. The defense rose up and got them the ball back with just under two minutes to play and they drove again, reaching the Stanford ten and completing a underneath pass on 3rd and five, the OSU receiver finding running room, heading for the sideline, met by two defenders at the two, reaching for the end zone and...fumbling the ball into the end zone for a touchback with 57 seconds to play. Stanford ball, by rule. An agonizing end to a noble but uneven effort, the Beavers now 0-1 and having to travel to Penn State next week to play the nationally ranked Nittany Lions before a hostile crowd of a 100,000.

It was a pleasure to visit with Doug and enjoy the food and wine. There were no earth-shattering discoveries or revelations, no memorable witticisms or meaningful moments. Just good company and an enjoyable evening. More than enough compensation for our labors. More than enough reason to do it again.

Marie left two terse and angry messages on my voicemail this afternoon, delivered when she must have known I'd be working, delivered so that they'd be waiting for me when I got off work, in the afternoon drive time position most coveted by radio disc jockeys and advertisers. She wanted the last word and the last rant. The sound of her harshest and most distant voice was painful. I only listened to half of each message, enough to get the gist. It wasn't the way I wanted to remember her, and it isn't the way I want to think about myself. For the time being I'd like to remember and think as little as possible. I need more friends who enjoy a bottle of wine and conversation about not much at all, folks who desire to live like Europeans with two hour dinners and plenty of time to talk.

I want to work out hard tomorrow, because I have a craving for a nice piece of marionberry pie. With ice cream even, if I do a good hour on the elliptical machine.

For now I'm tired and need to go to bed. It's early for me, only 11:30. I'll sleep deeply and dream of nothing, and right now that is just right.