No meet for you.

So I was stoked about the Tiger Master meet this weekend, and I had even submitted my entry, but then this happened:



Kind of puts a crimp in your plans, non?

I should report, though, that apart from the usual soreness and abrasions from the airbag, I was not injured. Neither was the other driver. And it was not my fault. The car is totaled, but we got a higher appraisal than I feared. Thank you, car, for taking the literal brunt of this.

In short, I cannot complain.

But back to swimming. I tried to go to practice on Tuesday, but the combined stress of driving there (holy freakout, Batman!) and then being around a crowd, and then not being sure whether I could swim. . . . . Let's just say I got back in the car and drove home.



I did go to practice this morning (thank you, Patient Partner, for driving), and I managed to swim about 500 yards before the pain and soreness was more than I felt like trying to swim through. I had wonkiness in my lower back (an exacerbation, perhaps, of the soreness I had been feeling before the accident, which is related to my hamstring problem, I think) and in my left shoulder (which SCARED me, but which I am hoping is simply soreness and stiffness from the impact and the way I constricted my left pecs in a reflex protective move for a shoulder I would really like NOT to be hurt again).

And honestly, should I really be diving into a pool right now?

So I am withdrawing from the meet. It is a drag--I was looking forward to this. But given the alternatives, I am not complaining.

Court's in session (now here comes the judge).

OK, OK, no more politics: I am afraid that if I write another political post, Joe will taunt me a second time. (Go, Joe, by the way, kicking butt in the 50 fly!)

Take a moment today and wish NCMarcus a bon anniversaire: even though it is many years ago now that we would always celebrate together, and even though birthday cards do not seem to be something I am capable of getting into the mail, I always think of her mid-November, of chocolate bricks and somewhat less successful chocolate mousse, of swingset conversations and beachwalks, of rose crusades, of too much Depeche Mode, of too many black turtlenecks. Now she's a mom too, and with a new idea of what a birthday means. So I, too, thank her mother for the work of bringing her into this world, and even though I know that was a huge labor for her, November 15 is still for me and always a celebration of Maman Marcus herself.

Now, the news.

You will be pleased to know that although my plea of guilty was accepted today in court, I got off without a fine. I hardly had to explain a thing, which is a shame, because I had a D.A. MacCoy-style argument planned, to explain to the jury why condemning me to punishment beyond what I have already endured would not serve American justice or make the city safe. Might have worked, too, except that there was no jury. The judge seemed to understand, though, that I neither meant to do it nor planned to do it again.

All in all, it was not much of a Law & Order scene. No blond assistant DAs, no inspiring oratory, no tricky message at the end. The main message seemed to be that if you can get off work to get to court and explain your sad self, then the system will not punish you as it would if, say, you might lose your job for missing work. The courtroom of our fair city was not as glamorous either: the dark wood paneling surrounding the judge's dais was diminished a bit by the flush fluorescent lighting and old-school ceiling panels.

I am curious, though: the judge suggested defensive driving classes as a way of getting rid of the points on my license. Maybe I did not make my situation clear to him: it was in trying to remain aware of the jackass behind me who was driving like, well, a jackass, that I did not see the light change. I am curious to see whether this kind of matter might be covered in the class: which parts of driving is it that I am supposed to be defensive about? More than likely, in being a Hermione-like too-many-questions-asking presence in the classroom, I'll just force the teacher to flunk me for spite.