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 |  of a tennis player, hiker, writer |
 A bird in the bath. well, just before.  On court 1. Lookin' to own.  In Jax, enjoyin' some solid juniors tennis.  I love my new phone cam.  * Clears throat * “Um, Robin here, your friendly neighborhood MC(Mistress of Ceremonies). Welcome to my blog. In it you’ll find my rants, ramblings and random updates on everything ME... …and since I’m the typo queen and master of misspelling, these will be present in most, if not all my posts.”  A few of my better entries - all quick reads: |
| Some study in the Netherlands found that woman who wear socks during intercourse are thirty percent more likely to climax. |
| I wrote this yesterday, when my IP went down at work. I so don’t feel good. Why am I here? Our IP service is down. My mouse died. My compie mouse I mean. Just quit working. Refused to function. No warning either. No stickiness, or dead spots. One second she was performing beautifully, and then, the next millisecond, she conked out. In a panic, I attempted all the usual resuscitation maneuvers; tapping, jiggling, a couple of solid pounding strokes, begging mixed with prayer. Nothing. She wouldn’t have any of it. She’s so cold. How can she do this to me? Just desert me like that? Especially now, when my internet is down? I told her all this too. “Fine.” I finally said out loud. “Who needs you?” I need her. To get my reports done. Plus, I was helping Sarah with a project she’s working on. I know you can manipulate the keyboard, without using the mouse. And I’ve done this before. But for some strange reason, all my efforts here fail. I take a deep breath. There just has to be something I can do. I busy myself with cleaning my desk – a task I’m known to procrastinate. Then, it hits me, I see the mouse on the desk behind me. Used for a compie whish isn’t working properly. I snag it and hook it up to my compie. Aaahhh. Production. Calmness fills my veins. I can now work. |
| In the morning, while I’m getting ready for work, my appetite is small. Food repulses me. My tongue only wants toothpaste and mouthwash,. No bacon or eggs, cereal with soymilk, no granola or oatmeal. Nothing requiring digestion. So, thinking about what to bring for lunch is easy. Nothing, my stomach tells me. “You don’t need food.” My eyes search the refrigerator, inspecting last night’s leftovers. “Oh no!” My stomach protests as I sniff into a tuberware bowl filled with chili. “But it’s chili.” I whine. “So? You have carrots at work. And broccoli. You need vegetables.” Vegetables, like its my mother or something. “It’s cold outside, this will make me warm.” “The heater will make you warm.” It says as it does yet another flip. “okay. Okay. You win.” I put everything back into the fridge, including the piece of pecan pie. I soooo wanted it too. I hate my morning stomach. Then, later, at work, with nothing but baby carrots and broccoli – with no salad dressing – my stomach sings a different tune. “I’m starving.” It has the nerve to whine. I’d like to say, “Serves ya right! for being so contrary in the mornings.” But I am the one who starves, regretting my decision to behave as I chew on a mouthful of dry broccoli. How could I cave like that? Why can’t I be storng in the mornings? Stand up and pack what ever the hell I want in my lunchbox. Marshmallows. Chicken salad sandwiches made with REAL mayo. Oreo cookies. Chocolate soy ice cream. Lunch has come and gone, I’m still hungry. I downed two servings of veggies though. I’m hitting the coffee maker next…does anyone have any flavored creamer? |
| I’m sick and at work today. At least it's only for three hours. My head hurts, joints ache, sinuses inflamed and stuffy, throat hurts-scratchy. Now, I’m developing a cough. I haven’t been this sick in a very long time. Last march, but that was allergies, and I didn’t stay home from work as I have Thursday and Friday. All I want is my bed; but when I’m in it, I can’t even rest. No medications seem to be working – clariton, sudifed, Tylenol, advil, even prescript meds. Anyway, I know I should have updated bryan’s health issues before now, but, I’m just so out of it. He has shingles. Before now, I thought this was an infection of the skin, which made you itch and feel bad for a week. Wrong. Shingles is the chickenpox virus – becoming reactivated. Yes, there is a rash, but, since the virus attacks the nerve roots, there is lots of pain, numbing, tingling. Depending on where the virus attacks the body, it can pose a threat to invading your lungs, brain, eyes –as in bryan’s case – his ocular nerve in his right eye. They do have anit-viral meds they put you on once a diagnosis is confirmed. To help lessen the risk of one loosing their eyesight, and other horrible things which can happen. Recovery, I found out, is four weeks. But for lots of people, its months, years, or never! At least the headaches are fleeting instead of just there 24/7. His rash doesn’t look nearly as bad as the pics I’ve seen on the internet. But, it still early. We are hoping he has experienced the worst part – the first stage which is flu-like symptoms with the migraine type headache. They still want to do an MRI - and he has more testing on Monday. The side effects of the meds must be monitored. Hopefully, we will all be well in time for Christmas. |
| The Thanksgiving holiday was great. Got lots of relaxing done, and cleaning. But it was layered between walking the dogs, checking email, cooking, and playing Rummy. It’s become tradition in our house to play during the holiday season. Not sure why, but the game holds more excitement when out of town family members are present, sharing a bottle of red wine, munching on Chex party mix. We’ve created our own form of the game. Really. We should document it. As kids, we loved cards – spit, speed, war. Those were the favs. As teens, spades and rummy emerged as the front-runners. I still love spades, but no one else seems to care, so I don’t get to play. If you’re a spade player, you have an automatic invite during the holiday season to drop on by. You’ll find us seated around the kitchen table – or sometimes, the living room floor, or one year – we played in Autumn’s room, across her king-sized bed. The CD player – volume up. Making jokes and wisecracks…But we’ll be playing Rummy. 500 Rummy to be exact. Christmas wouldn’t be the same w/out a nightly game. I’d have to give Renee the credit for getting the game going…for encouraging our new versions. She plays on more than just holidays. While I’m doling out credit, some should be given to Bob. I met Bob once. Played a game w/ him at Renee’s house. He’s an electrician. I’ve come to discover, anyone who really enjoys a good game of cards, has at some point in their lives, twisted the rules, to some extent, and Bob is no exception. Used to, we would rebuke any such rule twists. Dismissing them as a form of cheats, or at the very least – real card players don’t bend. But then, we grew up. Added alcohol to the mix, and whoa, rule breaking seemed like fun. Especially when Bob was explaining his twist to the game. Why split hairs when fun is involved? Now, if you have a rule you want to change, bring it before the group. We vote, once agreed, the rule is named after you. For instance, before executing Bob’s rule, you must say, “Bob’s Rules” even though he only has one. There’s always an ‘S’ Chalk that up to the alcohol. Anyway, 500 Rummy was played on Thanksgiving evening, after dinner – during dessert, and second helping of dessert. I was in the lead, round after round. (of course, I relished) Shaun was barking at my heels. He was determined. He passed me for one round and then won a really big hand to score victory. He was happy, beating me. I had to laugh. Nice game Shaun - just wait till next time! |
| since i seem to be strugglng with my muse, i thought, i'd try blogging in one of my private journals. just for a bit. |
| Can I power write for an hour? Thirty minutes? Hell, even fifteen. Sheesh, its been so long. I’m stumbling on twigs, gnarling myself in vines, chasing the rising sun only to have the light of the silvery moon adorn my shoulders. oh how horrible does THAT sound? So juvenile. Embracing the worn coat of self-criticism. Slipping my arms into the tattered fabric my eyes searching my soul for yet another replacement. Walk away. So simple, so easy. Somehow, I’ve sewn my skin to this self-destructive warmth which invariably leaves me cold and shivering. I’m so addicted. What’s sweet about it? Isn’t sweetness, funness, the quintessential component of addiction? I guess I’m misinformed. It could be argued that the familiarity of my demise is in fact, its comfort. Berating the ever struggling confidence in me, its omni presence somehow disguised its festering being as part of me. Therefore, abandoning it, just walking away….is viewed as unthinkable as severing my right arm. But not to be confused with my nose, which often is cut off – you know, in spite of my face – only to grow back thicker. Okay, so I’m rambling. I’m blaming the two shots of Pyrat rum. *pauses to draw another long swig* aaaahhhh. Anyway, Off Topic, (OT), HBO’s Rome, the season finale is coming on in approximately thirty minutes. I haven’t been this addicted to a TV show since the first season of Six Feet Under and, Dead Like Me. My performance during the tournament sucked. At least, in my last match – yesterday, I was IN the game! I scored most of my points on my serve, and service return. I really need to work on both of these shots. – have laney serve to me. Work on poaching too. Ending the point quickly has got to be a focus of mine. I think, I’m gonna enter two more tournaments, just to see if I improve, then, if not, I’ll conclude the pressure is just too much for me – my T.O.S. arms and visually impaired eyes |
| Why am I stuck? Why does everything sound stupid to me? Or, more to the point…unworthy? Just grab an idea and go with it - for writer’s sake. Stop teetering on the edge of uncertainty – for crying out loud! Both angela and allen cancelled tonight’s mixed match. I hope danny doesn’t get to frustrated at coming out here for no match. Maybe, I’ll flash a smile and ask him to serve to me. I need some sort of practice for the tournament. I play my first match tomorrow night at 6:30. |
| “The meeting’s been cancelled.” Sarah said to me over the phone. Oh great, and I’ve spend the last 30 minutes preparing. Plus, I rearranged my work schedule cuz…oh never mind. “Let’s do lunch,” she said, now that we suddenly have an hour of free time. “Great.” I’m always up for an excuse to leave the facility. So, we went to Panera Bread. Had Black bean Cuban soup and sandwiches while chatting about spouses, motherhood, our boss, and of course, tennis. Sarah is a 3.5 player who plays several leagues a season including both USTA and ALTA. Anyone who drives 90 minutes just to get to where the match is…on a weekly basis is dedicated to the game. “Are you doing the JDS Memorial?” she asks, sipping on her lemonade. The JDS Memorial is a great annual event which culminates the year end activities for one of our local Community Tennis Associations. Your entry fee includes two events and a dinner party afterwards. I’ve never done the tournament. I have gone to the dinner parties – great fun. as are the afterparties following the dinner. (being a site coordinator of a tennis facility secures me an invite.) “Yes.” I tell her. I entered at the last minute. “I’m only playing in one event though, 2.5 doubles.” Since there are only three teams of 2.5 doubles, we will do a round robin so I’ll get to play two matches. I think that’s enough for me, since I’m not really a tournament player. I don’t expect to win, but I will focus on it. After all, I did pay the entry fee, I’m entitled to a trophy aren’t I? |
| Hhhhh. Okay, so, like right now, at this very moment…I hate the lawn service guys. My right arm is in pain, my pinky finger is tingling with the pins and needles feeling so common when you wake up in the middle of the night and your arm has fallen so hard asleep that it wakes the rest of you up. So, it starts at the very top of my arm, where my right arm and shoulder meet, then, it runs all the way down the back of my arm and into my ring and pinky fingers. Why? You may be asking, am I so unhappy with the lawn service guys. Cuz! Those lazy brats; note to reader-- this is not what I’m calling them in my mind – but anyway, They, and the guy on the riding mower in particular, cut the grass near the outside of court seven and in doing so, pushed all the leaves, dirt and cut grass onto that court. I’ve just spent at least thirty minutes sweeping and it still looks a mess. (no gas for the leaf blower – lucky me huh?) Now, two and a half hours before my mixed match, I’m in pain. I just drank some coffee, caffeine has a way of providing my poor compressed nerves with a bit of relief. Anyway, savannah was great fun. We ate at some really great restaurants – Seasons –superb Asian food with relaxing immaculately clean décor. Siagon, Thai and Vietnamese food. Kayak Kafe, (sandwiches and salads. And some Moroccan place I can’t remember the name of – they had belly dancers there while you ate. Great food, fun atmosphere! We went to the usually galleries – talked with one of our fav artists – Rebecca Willis – she does watercolors. And plus, they had an art show festival. We met this guy from north Georgia who does nature – birds in particular – drawings w/ colored pencils. He had this one piece, breath taking but no way I was spending a thousand plus for it. He had a print but it just wasn’t the same. (the print was like $99.00) Check out www.justinaveling.com for some really great photography and www.rebeccawillis.com for some really great watercolors! It’s good to be back home…planning for the next long weekend getaway!  |
| Autumn called me the other day…”Mom,’ she says, “You HAVE to be my walking buddy. I’m gaining so much weight!” It’s not ‘so much weight’ but whatever. “Everyday! Do you hear me?” she adds, “Beg me if you have to.” So now, in addition to my 2 mile walk every morning, I now walk ¾ - 1-1/2 miles at lunch + my four to five hours of tennis a week. You’d think, I’d be bone thin. After all this physical activity. Not so. What a cruel joke. Maybe I was a total bitch in one of my previous lives. Paying for it now. Karma and all that. |
| We went to Scott and Colleen’s last night. It was fun, Scott grilled hot dogs and Colleen and Shar had made all kinds of festive candy and appetizers for us to blow our diets on. The cake was way too good. And, I learned from Autumn – just today while we were eating a healthy lunch – that if you can’t actually see the nutrition chart then no such information exists. Therefore, a homemade cake has zero fat. Zero calories. Furthermore, this phenomenon transcends into individually wrapped Halloween candy. Yeah, once – according to Autumn, you throw away the big bag which held all those individually pieces of wrapped mini snickers bars, the calories and fat content miraculously drop to zero. Gee, how did I live my entire life without this knowledge? |
| I posted one of those private blog entries – describing an unpleasant exchange I had with a family member. I didn’t walk this morning – instead, I wrote. Then, while cleaning my tennis courts, I called Renee on my cell, to give her part of the details. The combination – the writing and the talking – helped me deal. So far, I’ve spared myself the emo part. Or, at least the deep dark depths of it. i've skated on the outskirts, but have been able to catch myself before i fall. (Yay me.) oh, Happy Halloween for all of you who celebrate. |
| Laney walked away from the tournament with the finalist trophy in the back draw. Her first match was against a girl who had nice pace and a drop shot that wouldn’t quit. Laney often slow starts and this match was no exeption. She dropped the first set with only four games. Once the first point of the second set was played, her level of play picked up. The second game went to deuce so many times I literally lost count. Points were nice ralley – good tennis, but she was down 2 - 0. would she be able to catch up? Well, she kept at it. Kept her up her level of play and both girls switched off holding the lead. Finally, at six – all, they played a set tiebreak and laney won easily. Since they split sets, they had to play a match tiebreaker in lieu of a third set – first to ten points by two. Now, neither girl wanted to lose. They played conservatively. No drop shots, not net points. Just ground strokes. Some with pace, some lobs. Both waiting for the other girl to make the mistake. Laney walked away the winner of the match (11 – 9) whew. Her second match was against the number one seed. By this time, I was working the desk and missed lots of it. Wes – a friend of mine, kept me informed w/ her progress. “Her opponent has an erratic serve.” He told me. “Laney has had a few good points.” Laney was able to get four games each set off the girl! And, she had game point twice to make it 5 – all(I saw this part) but didn’t quite do it. The few points I did see, Laney’s level was pretty good. I was happy with her performance. Then, her third match of the day, against one of her really good friends, I barely saw. Laney was sooo tired, but won anyway 3:1. Then, this morning, she could barely move. She didn’t play well, but had a few great points – going to the net and all. Lots of points were long ralleys – where she’d loose. I know she was just too tired. Plus, her opponent was on her game. Laney lost 1; 2. (she played better than the score shows, but still. ) Anyway, I’m really proud of her. Glad she plays tennis. Practices so hard, Loves the game. |
| Laney won heri first match in the main draw, lost the second one to the number one seed, and then one her first back draw match. Three matches in one day - she is wiped! she plays her finals match for the back draw tomorrow morning. details later. Mom is wiped too. |
| Thank goodness my emo week from hell is over. I do feel much better. OMG. Why do I do that? Let me my emotions yank me around like a dog on a leash. Even still, thinking about Monday night and I have to catch myself, steer my mind in other directions. For the moment, I’ve slipped into self-preservation mode. Pretending like everything’s peaches and cream. Well, maybe not the cream part. But ya know. Its all okay. I’m fine. Better than fine. In fact I’m super fantastic. Adhering to the theory which states, say it enough and it becomes reality. (I’m standing in front of the blackboard, chalk in hand – writing—I AM SUPER FANTASTIC. I AM SUPER FANTASTIC. I AM SUPER FANTASTIC. I’m working tomorrow at the other tennis center; laney will compete in a tennis tournament and I’ll help out at the tournament desk. I’ll get to see lots of parents I haven’t seen since the last tournament, by the end of the day, I will be super fantastic! |
| How on earth did it get to be 9:30PM where did the day go? my lessons and drills were pretty good. worked on serves and service returns on the duece side. once i returned, if i hit it crosscourt, he'd feed me a volley. i sucked on volleys tonight. even in my team drills but at least i got two hours of exercise! |
| WTF? Where was on when the Rome memo went out? You know, the one, which stated the season, would only last for eight short episodes? Whose bright idea called for only eight shows in one season anyway? I know, I was probably too busy drooling over Kevin McKidd, James Purfoy or Ray Stevens’s flesh to read the damned thing. (sorry if this is tmi) but those rascals had me addicted! My myspace buddy Ames knows what I’m talking about, she was/is addicted too. I mean, I’d go all week, counting down the days until Sunday – when the show aired. Who in their right mind wants Sunday evening to arrive? Sheesh. Now, I’m forced to wait until next season – Caeser only know when that is – to find out the sorted details of the Roman Empire. Great job HBO! |
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