Home from watching the wolverines trounce the shit out of the boilermakers. It was all kinds of ugly and depressing, and I didn't even attend Purdue... and quite frankly I have been known to support Michigan, you know, a lot... but there is still something in me that feels the need to defend a poor little cluster of 19 yr old boys in tights who (while shamefully losing) are being screamed at and taunted by 110,000 screaming Michigan fans. Really. It wasn't pretty.
Like my grandfather's best man at his wedding famously reminded everyone (not at the wedding but on multiple other occasions), "Remember, it's just a group of undergrads playing a game in the grass on a Saturday afternoon."
Lake Michigan is beautiful, tranquil, and awash with some of the most soothing landscapes imaginable. Mostly I just wanted to sit alone and read Anne Morrow Lindbergh and chew on a pencil and take long, contemplative walks along the beach.
So, you know, I went to the Big House for my dose of serenity and inner calm.
I have just woken up from a solid 5 hour nap, am still at home, and am stuck in that post-nap lethargic limbo of not feeling awake but hating myself for desiring more sleep... I guess I had a lot to catch up on from these past several weeks.
Oh, and I really wish we had some apple butter. That would be great.
Spent the entirety of the road trip listening to Tony Dungee read his memoir. Several thoughts:
1. His voice is absolute magic... it is velvety and calm and well-articulated and always filled with that mild thunder of conviction and strength. I wish I could install a permanent version to read to me nightly as I struggle to sleep. I would listen to him read the phone book, microwave oven manuals, advanced physics formulas, binary code, whatever... and it would be beautiful.
2. I am becoming rather well versed in football names, figures, plays, and team locations. This is a good start and has given me a miniature sense of hope that I may one day become one of those really cool girls who isn't such a complete sports-trivia dumbass.
3. Everything in his life, as detailed in the book, manages to become glory and education made manifest. Something to work on.
4. Becoming extraordinary in Coach Dungee's mind is simply being the best at what is ordinary. A simple philosophy and perhaps the best new approach for one overly-analytical-o'erarching-dreamer-lost-soul-wanderer such as myself. Like we always learned in high school - 'keep it simple, stupid.' Also something to work on.
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