Poem for Thursday and Museum of Glass

Football
By Louis Jenkins

I take the snap from the center, fake to the right, fade back...
I've got protection. I've got a receiver open downfield...
What the hell is this? This isn't a football, it's a shoe, a man's
brown leather oxford. A cousin to a football maybe, the same
skin, but not the same, a thing made for the earth, not the air.
I realize that this is a world where anything is possible and I
understand, also, that one often has to make do with what one
has. I have eaten pancakes, for instance, with that clear corn
syrup on them because there was no maple syrup and they
weren't very good. Well, anyway, this is different. (My man
downfield is waving his arms.) One has certain responsibilities,
one has to make choices. This isn't right and I'm not going
to throw it.

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The heat is messing with my sleep cycle -- I keep being sleepy all day and then I can't fall asleep at night. So I was sluggish for most of Thursday, though since we were working in front of the TV while watching the early Mariners game (6-4), I might just have needed lunch. In the afternoon, we went to Blazing Bagels and Whole Foods to pick up lunch for the next few days and drop off a couple of packages to be shipped back to Amazon. 

I chatted with three of my Thursday evening regulars before dinner (one back from traveling, though one was too tired to join), then ate risotto and ratataouille before watching the Browns tie the Eagles in preseason. Then it was time for What We Do in the Shadows, which was hilarious (the teaching! the museum! the wanking shed!). Here is some of the spectacular glass we saw last weekend at the Museum of Glass in Tacoma: