April is the cruellest month...

...breeding

Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing

Memory and desire, stirring

Dull roots with spring rain.

I think Eliot spelled cruelest with two l's because he was mad that his name only had one. That's my stab at being a poety critic.

I love this time of year...colors are all intense and varied, the weather alternates between heavenly and apocolyptical, and I feel like I'm receiving some cosmic stream of energy. Maybe it's from a whirling dervish!

I refereee soccer games every Saturday, and absolutely love watching the ten year old boys playing their hearts out. Especially when it's a tubby Mexican kiddo who can't run very fast but has better footwork than anyone else on the field. That was hilarious. He may have been un poco gordo, but could dribble circles around all the skinny white kids. He even chipped it over one guy's head, spun around him, and kept going. Incredible.