Soccer mid-day, downtown. A frustratingly referee'd game against a brutish first-place team. More brutish than skilled. Farewell party for the coach afterwords at Monica's Lincoln Park house with lovely high ceilings, 12 feet maybe, and art on all the walls and a bridge from the second story main floor across a small patio yard to a barbeque deck on the roof of the garage. The boys all clamoring for a house with a bridge when we move.