It got to be 80 degrees yesterday, and today feels even hotter. Our kids won their soccer game on a windless field; as snack parent, I doled out croissants, tangerines, string cheese, and water afterwards to the sweaty, red-faced boys in orange and black.
There was some ugliness instigated by the parents and coach of the other team, who alleged unfairnesses that in fact (as verified by the referee) were simply good, clean soccer playing.
For a moment it appeared several testosteroning men might come to blows and I found myself approaching those involved as a peacemaker. But the referee got there first and warned the angry, red-faced men to back down.
It's sad for kids to see this happen; they feel the burden. As much as I love my kid, and want them to do well, I try to always remember that this is his life I am witnessing, not mine. Any feelings that revolve around me should remain within me. Can't say I always was capable of such restraint, but the older model is the wiser model, at least in this regard.
The state flower poppies out all over California today. The baby plums are swelling on my back yard tree. The roses are opening, the bees are at work, the birds sing and people in the city go about weekend routines.
From winter to spring to summer here -- it all happens so fast! Then, as we all know, the heat will peak and meet the colder air rushing in from the Pacific, pulling the whitest wave of fog on earth over the coastal range, through the Golden Gate, and into the alleyways of this city poised on the tip of a peninsula jutting out northward into the ocean above a fault line that never sleeps.
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