stroker, cranker, or tweener?

We're celebrating this rainy afternoon by going bowling. Yesterday Cole and I celebrated the usual lack of rain by playing every sport. During the football portion of the proceedings I, again, overcome by inspiration, completely ignored the hostile physical contours of this cactus-infested backyard and AGAIN took a nasty spill in the end zone, here's the showable part of my external injuries:

Who knows what further damage was sustained internally, I feel like a punching bag today. But is this stopping me from throwing myself (hopefully not literally this time) once more into the fray? No, let's see how an indoor sport goes.

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In more placid news, it was my dear mother's directive that before I left, for fun we would watch all of this year's Oscar contenders for Best Film. We're not going to make it. Tonight is the last one on our schedule, Beasts of the Southern Wild. Last night was Argo. Sunday was Lincoln. Etc. So far Silver Linings Playbook has been the only one to mean anything to me, but that's probably only true because I can't bring myself to see Amour even though Haneke is one of my absolute favorite living directors...I know that one will mean way too much to me. I do really want to see Zero Dark Thirty and Django Unchained but the folks have already seen them. None of us have any interest at all in Life of Pi or Le Mis. We haven't managed to find The Master anywhere, it's not out on DVD til 26 Feb and it's gone from theaters here.

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Elsewhere: tonight's vegetarian option will be butternut and black bean enchiladas, recipe forthcoming. Basically I need black beans; vegetarian boy to decide if he wants red or green; make the sauce, add beans and cheese to filling; bake.

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