With fire in their bellies and blisters on their feet (new soccer boots are such a pain), the 8P1s took to the field. To be confronted with the same group of girls they drew with in their very last game of last year. (When I say 'they', I mean the four players that were on last year's team that are also on this year's team). Of course, that got them even more fired up.
I'd like to be nice about this, but 8-1. Again, 8-1. Two goals from Soccer Boy, two each from three of his friends and the other three came close to scoring too. The girls only got one chance, they took it with both hands and scored, but after that they had no chance. One more time 8-1.
My athleticism nearly matched that of Soccer Boy, with another visit to the gym. I worked a bit harder this time, having got over the fear that I was going to break myself. I got my heart rate up to the recommended level and survived. Pain no worse than last time. I may even be looking forward to going back, but I refuse to commit myself to that statement.
Other than our family sporting endeavours, I spent virtually all my computer time this week wrestling with a printer and software issue. Finally fixed it on Friday (myself, the barrage of e-mails to the tech experts didn't help me one little bit) and managed to send out an edited version of'The Party' to a couple of mags. Other than that, no new writing recently. I wrote half a page of a new story, not enough to count, but the idea is still wriggling around, so I may finish that this week if work isn't too demanding.
So, if I were grading this week, I'd give my body 8/10 and brain 10/10. I was thinking that my brain deserved a much lower mark for not actually doing any writing, but, on the other hand, it did fix my faithful 'puter, without which I'd probably do no writing whatsoever, so I think it deserves some praise.