the bout, the deathly hallows

This was the scene in the dressing room after the season opener. That's Boo Boo Radly, captain of my beloved Green Barrettes with the juice box. In honor of my last bout experience in Denver, I wore my candy pink Sugar Kill Gang uniform skirt (you gotta be tough when you're wearing terry cloth). My team honored me by asking me to call line-ups for the bout. This, I've realized, is actually a much tougher job than skating in a bout. By the time the third period rolls around, whatever written line-ups you have, you throw out the window due to penalties, injuries and the desire to win the bout. I'm proud to say that the two times I've done this (you Denver derby fans might remember Shotgun Betties victory last year that I called when my ankle was still mush) I've helped my team win.

This bout was Friction VixXxen's last bout before she heads down to Austin, where she's being courted by every Texas team under the sun. It meant a lot to me that my team asked me to be on the bench with them, and listened to me as I pulled them from the line-up, or added them to the track. Jane and Angela passed the star last night, the first time ever for the league. Rockett's baby is 5 months old (um, yeah, we call him Bottle Rockett). New skaters who I met maybe once or twice before I retired gave me hugs and told me they missed me. That they knew me at all was a surprise.

I miss skating. I haven't figured out if I'll return or not. This body of mine seems to enjoy not being injured, but I'd be lying if I said that I didn't miss it last night, every muscle and nerve.

I skipped the afterparty in favor of dinner with friends. Then I met up with Tertia and Eric at the Tattered Cover for the release of the last Harry Potter book. The scene was marvelous. A hot night filled with wizards, witches and muggles all bustling about anxiously counting down to 12:01 am. An efficient voucher and distribution process later, I was out on the street clutching my new copy in under 25 minutes. But I'm so glad I went: parents had to practically drag their kids out of the store because they were already reading the first few pages and were glued to their spots, camera flashbulbs everywhere, tweenage girls fighting over book boxes marked "Do not open until 12:01 am!" that bookstore employees were giving away. People were pumped. I've seen this much energy at a concert or performance, but never for a book.

I walked the five quiet blocks home, holding my copy. A man walking his poodle stopped to ask me about the book. When I got home, Rick, Margi and Garrett were all watching The Prisoner of Azkaban and I took a shower and stole up to my room to start reading. I was so tired that I could only make it through five pages. But they were delightful, nonetheless.