Incoming

Nature has gone crazy.

I'll set the scene: Casey and I are enjoying one of our two daily walks. We're near the end, not exactly dragging our feet but not walking at the breakneck pace we typically begin with. It's a route we walk quite often, in a high pedestrian traffic area. We're walking along in the middle of the sidewalk, minding our own business.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a bird swoops down close to my head, dive bombing me so closely that I feel its feathers brush up against my cheek and hear the rush of air under its wings. It flies up to a high perch before then swooping again, this time to buzz Casey, who isn't nearly as startled as I am.

What the?!

This has happened twice. In one week. Two different locations.

The first time, I figured we had just walked too closely (on the sidewalk?!?) to the bird's nest, though I didn't see one in the meager tree we happened to be strolling under. But the second time--we were in a more urban area, a business district on a very busy street. And that bird was seriously P.O.'d.

I guess it's better than the alternative of being randomly pooped on (which has happened to me before--twice). Still, I think nature might have turned on me.

Black and Blue

In the hopes of expanding my social network here in the Big D, I joined a softball team. The result? Blue shins. Or perhaps I should say Shin, singular.

It's no secret I'm not a particularly gifted athlete. Though I managed to hold my own as a swimmer in high school and a functional ultimate frisbee player in college and my early adulthood, it's always been a challenge to amp up my level of aggression to go all out in the pool, on the field etc. The fear factor increases exponentially for me as you introduce flying objects (ball, disc, etc.). Although I "played" softball as a kid, I stunk and never made it past the JV squad before deciding that maybe just being the manager of the team was sufficient for me.

When I lived in DC, I got involved in the Capital Alumni Network sports clubs, including softball. I loved it. My team was full of fun, energetic people (most of them from OU as an added bonus) and we were halfway decent. Fortunately, our coach recognized my mortal fear of the ball and tended to play me in positions where I could do the least amount of damage. This was typically catcher--and on occasion, second base. So I should have been comfortable there on this new team.

Except my first game out, the opposing team hit consistently between first and second. And after the third or fourth ball went through my legs, I decided to get tough. The next one bounced off the ground and hit me smack dab on the front of my shin. Not only did it hit me, it hit me with the stitches, leaving an inch-long, stitch-shaped gash. The skin didn't bruise visibly, but it hurt a hell of a lot and felt like a bruise.

The best part of all this? I have been hit in the SAME DAMN SPOT every game since.

It's nearly summer, shorts and skirts are all the rage, and I'm sporting a blue shin. It's not bad enough that I have cankles already; now one of them looks like a trauma victim.

I'm considering shin guards. Anyone have some to spare?

Dallas: A Quarterly Review

So I've been here for three months this week--officially one quarter of a year. Wow. In some respects, the time is flying by. In others, it seems to crawl agonizingly along the floor.

Whenever I go out and meet new people, they always want to know: "So how do you like Dallas?" And of course, I know the polite answer is, "Oh, I love it, it's such a nice city." But in a not-so-politically correct way, I find myself answering, "I'm not sure yet. It's still growing on me."

And it is.

It wasn't as easy as I thought it would be to plug inn down here and reinvent myself. It was a bit ridiculous, I see in hindsight, to compare this experience to moving to DC at 22. Falling into a group of early 20-somethings, most of whom were also new to the city and eager to create their own network, was a cinch there. You only had to go out to one happy hour and you suddenly had 10 new friends to include on your next eVite.

But coming to a new city mid-career is more of a challenge. Many of the others my age are already settled with spouses and children. Those who aren't have a ready made network of the friends they made at 22. Getting "in" isn't like it used to be.

Tonight, however, I took my first real stab at creating my own network. I had a dinner party. Something I haven't done since I left Washington. With a colleague co-conspirator, we rallied a group of six (counting me) to make Wednesday dinner club night. I made chicken parm, the guests brought wine, apps and desserts. We ate too much, drank too much, and joked about everything from American Idol to Texas tornados to the Dallas crime scene and lack of police support.

It was one of the best evenings I've had since I came here.

It's a small start, but a big step nonetheless. Less hermit, more butterfly. Not fully winged and spectactular just yet, but starting to break through the cocoon to see the light. No matter that the group in the room was completely comprised of schoolmates and co-workers. I was just happy to be surrounded by people and comfortable chatter. The kind you've come to expect when you've found a place to fit.

There may be hope in this town after all.