after the game

The king and the pawn go in the same box.

So – as we all know, zipping up the stranger kindness, I took myself off to the chilly wilds of the Wildcats vs Yeronga in chilly town.

God. It was cold. Although not really Canada cold. Probably just as chilly as Dirty Deeds CX #1.

I would like to add a little post script to some sponsor action, having had a nice chance to – ever so briefly – chat with Ellen B and Amanda about life in the fast to medium lane of women’s sport. But I am currently out of time.

Suffice to say, I had a great time last night. But it was a different kind of good time to this kind of good time.

I don’t think I’m going to be a heady convert to the game of AFL, which I have so long ignored, but I can’t say I wasn’t having a really pleasant evening, and that although the scoreboard wasn’t exactly in Our Emma’s favour by the end, there was lots to redeem the match from a spectator point of view.

On a slightly different note, sometimes, I remember that I am not 17 anymore. Thursday night, I remembered this because my dad mentioned that he was forwarding some mail from my high school, inviting me to my 15 year reunion. No kidding. 15 years. To celebrate this momentous occasion, I am going to de-friend all the people on facebook from high school whose friend requests I accepted because I was worried it would seem rude. I haven’t seen you in 15 years. You don’t send me LOL Cats and I’ve never met your kids. I would never be rude to you in person, but really, I don’t have 349 friends, I have about 74 instances at which I was too embarrassed to say I don’t remember you from the production of Pippin that we put on with the boys school. I don’t think you’ll miss me. If life circumstances so dictate, then we’ll be friends in person, eh?

Again, a matter for therapy, not this blog.

In the mean time, I am also reminded that I am no longer 17 because young people totally blow my mind. By young, I mean anything under 28. And possibly under 35. Andrew, our next sponsor, definitely constitutes young in that I don’t really know how old he is but he was not going out to raves in the late nineties. So he’s not my age.

What he is, however, is totally on the freaking ball.

And he is not afraid of a chart.

Because he is so fearless, he provided his own chart. But now I can’t find it. I must have deleted it in one of the bouts where Andrew hates me. #justsaying

Andrew knows what this is about. Everyone else – don’t over think it. That’s my job.

Hey! Tomorrow is jumper presentation. I always hated jumpers. But I can tell I am going to like this one.

And it’s at the Pineapple. Which is a cool $50 according to my Nanna. See how we’ve come full circle?