Yellow + Blue

Tropical Starbursts are my latest candy flame. Even the little squares of goodness wrapped in orange paper have my 100% devotion. If I'm not careful, a handful of four (one of each color...) suddenly becomes eight, then twelve, then...

They come in a green bag. Look for them; buy them; your taste buds will not regret it.

I saw the green bag while perusing Smith's Marketplace on 33rd South; bought them; took them to work to share; shared not out of kindness, but out of a need to pay up for the last bag... of which I ate half.

My hands were dipping into green today; and after work, my feet were soaking in it, too.

With the help of my pal, Jeremy, I was able to take my soccer bootin' up regimen (see previous post) to the next level. The feel of a soccer ball at my feet is something I had forgotten, but quickly came back to me. Like riding a bike. Only if my lungs could pick up the intuition as easily. Apparently 13 miles is managable, but sprinting after long, air-born ball passes is a very different story.

And when I brought Jeremy's pass down on my thigh, I was reminded of that cold-air/hard ball slap against bare skin. But as I slipped back into my car to go home after pure exhaustion, seeing the visible ball marks on that bare thigh made it all worth it.

I sped off onto Sunnyside avenue, with both ACL's still intact, and my fingers tracing the palpable ball indentations under my right shorts line.

Moral of the Story?

Consuming Starbursts (including orange) --> Energy, albeit short-lived --> Ball mark on right thigh --> Pure satisfied exhaustion --> Lounging on couch to gleefully watch the Lakers trail Houston.

(Anyone else find Artest's haircut rather... nostalgic? I remember when my older brother got his initials, PM, buzzed into his head, just in time for summer swimteam. But.... he was eleven. That was so 90's!)