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Avia S-199 in Israeli Air Force Service

Party, sleep, event, sleep

That’s been the pattern for the last two days, if we define days by the Hebrew calendar.

Friday night, we hosted a Halloween party which I attended until 8:45, when I changed out of my costume (Roanoke Jones, Indiana Jones’s colonial ancestor; see if you can find it in the pics) to go play hockey. My kids dressed as Death (a la “Sandman”), a Voodoo doctor (of theology, no doubt), and Death (a la the Grim Reaper).

In hockey, I have decent hands in close and I score more than my share of goals, but recently I’ve been scoring on wristers from the tops of the circles. I’ve usually been one of the better players in the games I’ve joined, but this group is younger, faster, and a heck of a lot more talented than I ever was. My shots are going in the net like change-ups: the goalie expects a much harder shot and instinct throws his trapper high as my slower shots rainbow (relatively) below the glove into the net. It’s embarrassing for both of us.

This week I took an errant slapshot off the side of my head. Had I not been wearing the helmet, I’d still be picking rubber out of my ear. Thanks to high-impact plastic, all I suffered was a few seconds of tinnitus.

I went back to the party but only one other adult was left. A herd of unruly children chased me upstairs.

I woke at 8:00 a.m. to go assistant-coach an exhibition game. The refs didn’t show up, so I did that instead, with a coach from the other team, from Lasalle. They beat us 6-0. I see many tips that would help our team – say, ways not to give up six breakaways on Child Three in a game. Our head coach was excruciatingly positive in the dressing room.

We returned home and I went back to sleep. See that pattern?

Failing to convince Child Three to go with me to watch the Canadian women’s hockey team play at Concordia, I watched the second period of the Habs Saturday night. That team played horrible, especially Alex Kovalev, and when Elvi and I left for a party I didn’t bother listening to the rest of it on my car radio. When we got to my friend Dan’s place, I saw the final score of 5-4 projected on his wall and mentally kicked myself.

Dan and I share the same birthday – in the same year, but that’s something we only discovered months or years after we became friends. I don’t think I’ve seen him in a dozen years. Besides him, we knew Pat (see here), who I last saw about 15 months ago. We tried to convince our old crony Barnes to show up – he lives only four blocks away but apparently I’m no longer so much of an attraction.

The party was a Halloween party one day late, and the costume of the night was a couple who came as tetes carrees, which is French for “square heads”, a derogatory term for us English speakers. The perfect touch was the woman’s Tie Domi Leafs jersey.

We spent most of the night talking with Pat, and Pat spent most of the night chatting with us. I think we were all glad that each other had shown up. I drank a bit much and asked to go home around 1:30, the second 1:30 of the night. Usually, Elvi is the party-pooper, or the wiser, whichever way you want to look at it. I fell asleep as soon as I hit my bed, which is rare.

I woke at 8:30 with a splitting headache. I have only ever had two hangovers in my life, no matter how many I’ve tried to earn, and the key feature of those is nausea, which I had. I took some ibuprofen and tried to read the paper. No dice. I couldn’t concentrate for the pain. When I lay down, my head hurt more, and I’d broken out into a cold sweat. Well, the sweat wasn’t cold, but it gave me chills.

It took me about an hour to figure out what was going on. That wasn’t a hangover, that was an atypical migraine. I almost always get migraines in the afternoons or evenings and the pain associated with this one was steady, not throbbing. I haven’t had one in a very long time. I went straight for the heavy duty painkillers and 45 minutes later, the pain had subsided enough for me to get back to sleep. I woke again around noon, but I’ve felt loogy all day.

I had urged myself to finish my danged biopic script by the end of August, but only managed to reach the halfway point by Labour Day. September and October have flown by, and I’m again urging myself to get this thing done by December. This is already a lost weekend as far as that goes. I’ve only had time to do some relatively quick research tasks and I still have two scripts to look at for Alex that I plan to get to tomorrow, so we’ll see how that goes.

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