Football is for....GIRLS! WTF!!

Those who know me, know what a huge fan I am of the CFL, and more specifically, the Calgary Stampeders. This spring I decided to push myself to a new level of football love. I joined a women's tackle football (WTF!) team.

The Calgary Rage of the Western Women's Canadian Football League (WWCFL) took me into their fold in February of this year. I started out going to classroom sessions to learn the basics of offense and defense, and more of the detailed intricacies of offensive plays and defensive formations.

By March, we'd moved on to indoor training. Tackling drills, proper stances, and oh my lord the running. Forward, backward, side shuffling... you name it, we ran it.

April arrived and we hit the outdoor field. Drills, running plays, and of course, running. And more running.

At the beginning of May, the team went on a weekend road trip to Saskatoon for a "football jamboree" - 4 mini games against other budding female footballers. I was unable to play due to a muscle tear I sustained at a practice, but I did my best from the sidelines to encourage my teammates and learn as much as I could.

Finally, on May 14, I played my first game as a member of the Calgary Rage. It was a win over the Lethbridge Steel (28-14) and although I didn't perform as well as I could have, it was the most exciting thing I'd done for a long time. Until yesterday.

May 21 found us in Edmonton for a match against the Edmonton Storm. The scoreboard said it was a loss, but I made my first real tackle as a football player and will never forget the feeling. It scares me a little to think that I am capable of running full speed toward another woman with the sole intention of knocking her on her ass. And knock her on her ass I did! She didn't see me coming, and I'm sure she had no idea what hit her. I have never felt such a rush. I understand now what my coaches were saying all this time about getting that rush of adrenaline. It's a day later, and thinking about it still gets my heart pumping harder.

When I started with the team, I was nervous about the hitting part of the game. I had no idea what to expect, physically or mentally. Now that I've had my first taste of real contact, I can honestly say I LOVE THIS GAME.

Apart from being in the best shape ever in my life, I've already benefitted so much from joining this team. Win or lose, the bonds I've made with my teammates and coaches are some of the deepest of my adult life. When you stand on that field with 11 other women who rely on each other to get a job done and protect each other, you become a family. That's a part of the game I could never have imagined.

I love my Rage family.

Watch Out Mickey, You Might Be Next.

It's summer. People go on holidays.

Before said people can go anywhere, plans must be made and stuff must be organized. You know, the neurotic cleaning and sorting and general foolishness to ensure that the house is "in order" before one leaves for a vacation. My mother was so anal about the whole process that she would literally wash her way out the door as we left the house. Really.

But I digress... back to the getting of things in order.

This week as I scurried about, trying to round up passports and water shoes, and various other travel necessities, I was not alone. There was other scurrying going on. And chewing. And (shudder) droppings.

There was a mouse in my kitchen.

I could hear his little rodent teeth gnawing away behind my cabinets. There were tiny teeth marks on a potato in my pantry.

After cussing out every cat in the neighbourhood for crapping all over my yard and yet failing to keep the mice away, I packed all 3 kids into the van and headed out on an exterminatory mission - to find as much rodent removal equipment as I could fit into my budget and my vehicle.

After sanitizing floors and loading traps and plugging in ultra-sonic-mouse-repellent-thingies, I started to think. One of two outcomes was possible as a result of my actions:

1. I would not catch the mouse. It would nest, and inevitably, bump uglies with another mouse and take over my home with its filthy offspring while I frolicked away in the far north.

2. I would catch the mouse and its furry carcass would be waiting for my return, along with the unmistakeable stench of decomposing flesh.

Either way, I was screwed. So, I did what every rational, educated adult would do.

I dismantled my kitchen cabinet.

I hauled out my water-filter vacuum and filled it.

And then I sat in waiting for the hairy little bastard. What followed could be described as a combination of B-horror flick, performance art and general tomfoolery.

The result?

Stay the hell outta my house, vermin. I KEEEEL you!!

Not another NOOB!!!

This is a new adventure for me. Like many at-home-parent-types, I've decided to make the jump from Facebook, to Twitter... and now here. I'm not really sure what I'm doing, or what I want to say. I just feel the need to dump my brain occasionally. Call it cheapskate self-psychotherapy. Call it hubris. Call it what you like, but please do read on! I hope what I have to say will provoke you in some way. I guess I'm a bit of a shit disturber. I like to put things out there and see what kind of reaction I'll get.