After doing some research, finding the store that sells what we’re looking for, finding a time that we’re both available to make the trip during store hours, we get in the car, head up to the store, and find a sign on the front door of the store that reads: “Closed today for employee picnic.”
It’s that time of year here in the Upper Midwest: Strawberry Season! Foxtail is rolling in these plump juicy wonders and I was out helping harvest on Wednesday. Yum!
The draft was scheduled to start at 7:30, which meant that was when the first pick would be. I believe the first pick last year happened around 9:30, and since these are ultimate people, 7:30 wasn’t going to happen, but you had to set a time.
I arrived there around 6:00 and was going to meet my friend Emily there. Now I should note I am not a captain and I don’t have a team. I was just there helping Emily, who is a captain. People are allowed to have helpers, especially newer captains, and I wanted to experience the draft firsthand anyways. As far as my picking status, I was like any non-drafted player in that I could be picked by anyone. Only two or three captains actually knew my name, so chances are good I would end up on one of their teams, but I didn’t know for sure.
Our new apartment…
… has many unpacked and semi-packed boxes in it
… was built in 1925
… has plaster walls instead of drywall
… has 9-foot ceilings
… is quieter and darker than our old apartment
… has radiators!
… has a gas stove 
… has original light fixtures and funky old door handles
… is on a quiet street in a neighborhood with many young families
… is close to both Ben’s work/school and mine
… is on the ground floor
… has creaky wooden floors
… has a galley kitchen with a swinging door
… has a small yard
… has lots of windows - many with their original sash weights
… has only slow DSL at 256 kps 
… has a laundry chute!
… has phone jacks everywhere except where we want one
… has two bedrooms
… has an actual dining room (which dwarfs our little eating table)
… has a LOT of counter space
… is now home.
On Wednesday I participated in the Portland Summer League Draft, an annual event where the players who sign up for the league are placed on to teams. The way PSL does its player selection is a fairly unique and involved process that involves luck, questionable logic, mob rule, and copious amounts of alcohol. Amazingly, in the end, teams usually end up pretty balanced, and even if they aren’t, it’s a fun time. But before I go into my specific experiences, I need to go over a bit of history and how the draft works. This may be a little long.
The Portland Summer League is an ultimate frisbee league I play in during the summer. Unlike a lot of leagues around the country, everyone plays in this league. There are no pre-defined teams or teams of beginners running around aimlessly. All players regardless of skill level play in the league, which makes it a pretty competitive league, but not enough that folks don’t have fun, because not everyone takes it that seriously. It is now in its fifteenth year, and has grown from a player base of 40 people, to one around 500. And with that many people, there has to be some sort of system of who gets to be placed on what team. Enter the draft.