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:
|What a day! And it’s not over yet. I’m super excited and I can’t stop loging in to wdc to see it its really true…that I’m still BLUE! What an ‘out of the blue’ surprise THAT was. What a fantastic way to start my weekend out…Thanks to all of you who sent cNotes and emails giving me congrats. What fun.
And then, to get a ribbon from bymydesigns! It’s for the
|Tempers flared this morning. I kept my cool even though I was seething. I hissed through my teeth in an effort not to raise my voice – which I so wanted to do. That and pick up a near by object and fling it.
Two mornings in a row laney and I have had at it. Can i throw my towel in? I guess, for her, it sucks being eighteen and still living at home -- having to listen to your parents. Parents who, I might add, she calls ‘cool’ when she isn’t mad.
It all started when Ruby, her cat woke her up fifteen minutes before she had to get up. God forbid one should loose fifteen minutes of sleep. Somehow, this was my fault. Maybe it was the ‘easy’ button I forgot to press – you know, the one that magically silences the cat’s meows. Well, somebody had to take the blame; it might as well be me. Personally, I’d opt for Ruby – the cat herself. Apparently, she’s just too dang cute for blame. Mom was next in line.
I remember a phone conversation with a friend of mine whose daughter is now out of college and gainfully employed, living in a town not too far away from him. He told me, she and her mother – his wife, engaged in a full-blown war during her entire senior year.
“It’s part of being a senior.” He told me, his voice filled with better get used to it tones.
His theory cited something about the fighting making the break from home easier.
I just want peace in the morning as I rush around the house snatching up dirty laundry then stuffing it in washing machine while gulping on luke-warm coffee before I dash back to the bedroom and toss the sheets and comforter over the bed in a lame effort to called the bed 'quasi-made.'
Okay, since I’ve dogged poor laney out I’ll share something nice about her. We got her satellite radio for Christmas [XM]. Her favorite station? The 1940’s! it’s pretty cool , listening to Bing Crosby and Jimmy Dorsey. The station plays newscasts from the ‘40’s, too. Pretty cool, huh?
|Hard apple cider is kick ass after four sets of tennis. However, Woodchuck Amber Cider is super kick ass after just two sets of tennis. Mmmmm. Doesn’t get any better. (Well, okay – it does – but not in this blog.)
Following that line of logic, nothing is more disappointing then discovering (after four sets of tennis) you’ve already consumed your last bottle of Woodchuck Amber Draft Cider. on some previous unknown date and have no recollection of it. so there you are, hunched over, digging in the refrigerator searching for an item you’ll never find… Alright everybody, on the count of three, one big collective ‘Aaaaaawwwww, poor robin.”
Yeah, I know.
Since I’ve already gotten your sympathy, I’ll go ahead and disclose –I had Woodchuck’s Granny Smith Draft Cider instead. So now, to make up for my no Amber Cider disappointment, I’m consuming a few extra bites of Purely Decadent Dairy Free Peanut Butter Zig Zag – a frozen non-dairy dessert. Sorta resembles ice cream for those allergic to dairy.
Now, being allergic to dairy – there’s a REAL reason to give robin your sympathy.
Anyway, tennis was great fun. Eight of us showed so we played doubles – one set at a time, switching out partners every time. I flat out sucked the first forty-five minutes. It wasn’t like riding a bike; you know how to do it after a long break. Nope, I had to humiliate myself in order to gain a little control back. At least I only double faulted once!
Gonna hit in the morning. Hope to do better, with ninety minutes under my brand new Adidas shoes, maybe I will only have to humiliate myself for thirty minutes this time before I find my groove.
|Remember that movie, with Rick Moranis, made in ’89…Honey, I Shrunk the Kids?
Sometime during the movie, the teenage boy looks through the window of his house-- across to the window of his neighbors' house…he sees a teenage girl – played by Amy O’Neal…she’s house cleaning. I haven’t seen the move in years, but as I recall, the fingers of her hands wrap around a mop that she’s turned upside down and she’s dancing with it like it’s a person. I always liked that scene. Here Amy, combines exercise with house chores.
I’m all about multi-tasking. I like O’Neil’s approach, merging together two activities. Especially when one, dancing helps to make the other, house cleaning more um, tolerable. So, in an effort to emulate O’Neil, I went to iTunes to download my favorite dance type songs onto my iPod shuffle. I wear the thing whenever I fold laundry, wash dishes, clean bird cages. Two songs from Madonna’s “Confessions on the Dance Floor” are there, as is the quintessential ‘get your ass on the dance floor’ electric slide song. The birds are the ones happiest with my new tidy-up method. They, all six parrots, love to dance!
Mullet starts screeching the instant he spies my pink iPod. Each bird has his own style. Mullet shuffles from side to side along his yellow cement perch. Noah, turns around in circles on his corner wooden perch. Maya climbs on the bars of her cage and bobs her head up and down. She makes a loud clicking noise, mimicking my clapping.
While I can’t count the house cleaning/dancing as aerobic. It is movement which beats the hell out of stagnant. And, it’s hilarious. Watching my birds pretend they are Shakira.
|My mom says she read a book where you should get up straight away and blog. First thing. No teeth brushing, no breakfast eating, no coffee drinking.
“Mom!” only I had dragged the word out. No coffee drinking? My muse would surely go on strike.
If I remember correctly, she said I should write three pages of material. Any material. Random thoughts with no transition were perfectly acceptable.
Even though it’s on my NYR list, I’ve yet to attempt the project. Right now, I’m focusing on getting my 8 in the morning – an exercise thing I read a book on. Although, I’m doing my own version of the program; one I think I’ll be able to adhere to.
Once I’m in the habit of my 8AM step aerobics routine, I’ll venture out and add write ONE page of randomness, then two, then three. You know, baby steps.
What are the things on my NYR list this year? I’m gunho. I have, in the past, bagged the idea completely but ever since NaNoWriMo, I’m all about going after the things I want soo here goes.
There’s a More List and a Less List and they go like this;
More – smiles, hugs, laughing, complimenting, exercising, writing, reading, tennis and hiking.
Less – complaining, whining, bitching – which is a stronger form of complaining,
Each has a sub list and I’ll discuss the writing one now.
First, I want to branch out with the publications i currently submit to – Racquet Sports Industry and Georgia Parks and Rec. (non-fiction here)
Second, I want to get into fiction writing. NaNoWriMo was a blast. And I’m working on a small project with a friend of mine which is fun and creative. I want to finish my novel – as in it’s ready to submit for publication form. Or close to thereabouts whatever – you get the idea.
Third, poetry…I haven’t written one in a while. I may enter a few contests on writing.com just to get back in the groove.
I’m off to tackle some house cleaning and bird cage cleaning and novel revision thinking.
|It’s 1:30 and I’m just now getting lunch. My stomach told me three hours ago it was hungry. I tossed a couple of peanuts its way and tried to ignore it’s incessant whining.
I sorta got involved with desk cleaning activities and didn’t realize how much time had gone by. (My desk is in worse shape now than it was before I stared the reorganization). I kept saying, ‘let me go through this draw…this shelf…and bam…my stomach stood strong in it’s resolve to get some food.
So now, I’m eating a tomato based (aka lycopene) gumbo type soup spiced with Tabasco – no crackers. Yeah a new year’s res to limit carbs somehow found it’s way to the top five of my list. How the heck that happened, I’m not sure. But it’s there and I’ll begrudgingly oblige as long as I can.
It’ sucks eating healthy. Well, okay, mostly I like it. but today, Friday, I want fun food. Fattening food. Greasy French fries from Zaxby’s with a slice of pizza from Ingleside Pizza. Oh, and can I have a Mike’s hard lemonade with that? oh wait, my sweet tooth is feeling neglected. Far be it for me to ignore the demands she makes; you know, for dark chocolate squares…the ones that are individually wrapped, and come with flecks of cranberries in them! The melt in your mouth kind.
Enough is enough. Let me get back to my soup, oops i mean lycopene slurping and desk cleaning.
|The can of tuna sat in the bottom draw of my office refrigerator for weeks. Bubmble Bee. Easy Peel Sensations. Spicy Thai Chili. Yes, I was avoiding it. I know, tuna is supposed to be great for you; your brain, your joints, among a few of the omega3 benefits.
But who wants tuna when they can have salad? Made with fresh romaine lettuce, chopped tomatoes, carrots and smothered in Kroger brand creamy Italian dressing? Or better yet, who would choose tuna when the Bear’s Den – a local diner is a three-minute walk from my office? The place offers southern style meat and vegetables – and more important – they serve southern pecan pie!
Tuna? Yeah right!
I must admit, when prepared correctly, tuna is delicious. Back in the day, when we used to get the stuff packed in oil instead of today’s packed in water cans. Mixed real, loaded with fat and calories Hellmann’s mayonnaise, scooped in generous proportions on top of whole-wheat buns or white bread hoagie rolls. Yeah. I’m so there!
And, we can’t forget to mention Subway’s tuna subs…yummy! A little salty, but subway knows how to throw together a tuna sandwich.
I had heard, from several others how the Thai tuna was spot on. Somehow, the can did nothing to entice my taste buds to give it a try. However, combine the forgot my lunch thing with the it’s 18 degrees outside, what do you mean leave the warmth of my office for food and you’ve got a growling stomach scavenging for food. Bumble Bee Easy Peel Sensation – Spicy Thai Chili instantly gained appeal. Well, if truth be know, it wasn’t instant, rather a low rumble gathering speed, strength and insistency as the afternoon wore on.
Anyway, the stuff was – do I dare say – great! I ate it straight out of the can, too. No mayo, no pasta, no bread for crackers. Okay, I know I was starving. but I really liked it. Next time, I’m gonna make a pasta salad out of it, and then a regular salad with tuna mixed in, and then, a plain ole sandwich with stinking low fat mayo.
They make lemon pepper and tomato basil. I wonder if those flavors are just as tasty.
|I know I need to get back into blogging. It’s been forever since I’ve posted on a regular basis. I’ve been writing. I think the drawback comes from the worry that my entries won’t be entertaining enough. But I think, at least for a couple of weeks, I’m going to abandon my desire / need / expectation that all my blogs should be of a certain standard. Get back into the habit, I say, then worry about presentation.
So, starting my New year with a blue day.
Hope 2008 is more than you guys hope for, better stronger sweeter, warmer, and then some
Happy New Year to everyone.
| My game is gone. I don’t know what happened. Did I throw it out the window on a recent trip to Tennessee? Owned. Yup, that was me Tuesday night. Double beagled. How humiliating. Her twenty-three year-old long legs ran down my angles. Her badminton swat held more direction than Mapquest. I’m thinking my game deserted me after laying eyes on such a young chica. Two singles 2.5 trophies sit on my office shelf but I couldn’t get a game off her! And she’s new to USTA.
Afterwards, I told my teammates when asked about the fun factor, “It was fun, but it was the least fun I’ve ever had on a tennis court.” Any court time is fun time. Laundry, bird cage cleaning, dish washing, bed making, yeah, I choose double beagles and humiliation on U.S. Open blue courts.
In all fairness, and not to make excuses…Felicia had the baby and is out on maternity leave. Al no longer works for us. Little part-time help means I log sixty hours a week – leaving little time to practice.
Tomorrow, I play 3.0 with a relaxed in last place team. For us, it’s all about the alcoholic beverages, chips & salsa, and cookies we bring to consume while we watch our teammates who’ve split sets. . Keeping my fingers crossed I score more games than last night.
|Last night’s tennis match was a wash. We won two levels by default. Our opponents only brought two players. Technically, this meant we didn’t have to play at all. Being new to the game, they didn't know any better. As captain, i made an executive decision to play the one level and sent Brandi and Melinda out to court 3. During that match, the rest of us hit around on court 5. Playing points, but not games, working on our serves, service returns and other various shots. Judy was a riot.
I hadn't met Judy before the hitting session. What a great opportunity for me to do so. She works for the state doing I’m not sure what, but mentioned something about law school. She suggested we wear matching colors, you know, to give ourselves the mental edge over our opponents?
“It’s all about the mindfuck.” She whispered across the net before we rotated sides. “They’ll think we know how to play cuz we know how to dress.”
I agree with her philosophy, by the way. During my comeback after developing my T.O.S, I vowed to never enter the court without proper tennis attire – the skirt and all. Adidias is my fave.
Then, Judy mentioned something about tube socks, "You know, with different color stripes at the top?” A mental flash of Linda Ronstadt popped into my head. Didn’t she wear tube socks on the cover of her Living in the USA CD? Only they were called albums back then. (Did I just date myself?)
So anyway, where was i? Oh, matching outfits...“Yeah,” I added, and we can part our hair down the middle and wear those pigtail looking things.” I pulled off my scrunchi, grasped fistfuls of hair in both hands to demonstrate. Giggling erupted from all of us. “And get those short shorts," I continued. "That Venus wore during the Open."
Judy rolled up her warm up suit pant leg. “Here is why we need tube socks.” Her fair white skin is covered with purple bruises. What on Earth did she bang her shins into?
“Oh. Wait a minute,” I teased. “I have to give up showing off my bronze tanned skin because you have a few little bruises?” Full-blown laughter now. “I don’t think so.”
Next week we play at John Drew Smith Tennis Center against some team calling themselves the Divas. Dressed in blue, our new color, we will walk on the court with our mind, um starts with F rhymes with duck attitude!
Judy can have the tube socks and pigtails.
|Yesterday during work, I can’t remember when; sometime between the World Team Tennis flyer and making reservations for Laney’s 18u 3.0 team to stay in Jacksonville during the GA/FL challenger (yes, they are going! I know they came in third at state, but the number two team couldn’t go)….my cell phone rings.
Only it’s not the you’ve got a phone call ring. It’s the you’ve got text, or pix ring. Being the dedicated employee I am, I did not stop whet I was doing to pick up my cell phone and investigate. No. I waited a full ten seconds - to finish typing, ya know before I snatched up my phone, gave my inbox a peek.
Huh? What the heck is Adam doing sending me a pic? With the subject line: Federer.
My fingers press the ‘open’ keys and this is what I see:
Are you there? I type, already knowing the answer. How could I forget?
That Adam would be running around NYC this week. In Flushing Meadows in particular...The USTA Billie Jean King National Tennis center.
Yes…I’m on 10 row.
I am jealous I punch at the phone keys. Who are you with?
I call my friend Clare leaving a voice mail how Adam is such a brat, making me envious of his U.S. Open trip.
I know lots of people who are going. Let’s hope they are all send me pics. In this case, it feels good to be jealous!
|We came in second in our division. Not too bad. And, the only loss the number one team got was to us. Some consolation, right? I say yes.
I lost my match 3;1. I played so well the first three games, and then, just so-so the rest of the match. I did have some really nice rallies, and a few awesome shots, just so sporadic not to make a difference.
Dinner afterwards was great! The team brought me gifts, food and alcohol! Sweet action, huh? “Thanks for being the captain. You did a great job” I felt appreciated.
Thank you guys for being such great teammates!
We play our last match of the season tonight. Even if we win all three levels – which I’d so love to do – we will come in second in our district. I’ve had a blast though, playing in this combo league. I love how our section does not allow results to affect our NTPR rating. We can get practice playing up to determine if we want to move up during the reg season.
The heat index will be brutal at match time, it will feel like it’s 99 degrees! Oh boy, just what I want, to swat like a pig while I chase down lobs and smoke my service returns. We’re here at Tattnall, and after we play, we’re all going out to eat Mexican. I for one will be drinking tequila – the quintessential beverage when eating chips with salsa and fajitas. Yummy! Do I have to go to work tomorrow?
|On Mondays, I practice with my 3.0 tennis team in the morning and hit with a beginner tennis player after work. Both sessions lasting approximately one hour. This Monday, I bagged the 3.0’s, opting instead for the coolness of my air-conditioned office, the comfort of my office chair sitting to sift through three days worth of email, punishment for a three-day weekend. My body needed a break – eight miles of hiking yesterday in the mountains of Tennessee has a way of rendering your thighs, your calves, your feet and other body parts almost useless.
Laurel Falls was on the top of the hike list for Sunday morning’s agenda. Only it ended up being closer to noon before we parked the car, got out and loaded up our small hiking supplies. Two pints of water each, one granola bar each. The digital cam – for bear sightings.
I’ve hiked the 1.3 miles to the falls several times before – I never tire of the beauty. A paved trail offering magnificent views of maple, mountain laurel (my favorite), and dogwood it’s easy to see why it’s one of the most popular trails of the Smokies. But this time after reaching the 75 foot multi-leveled waterfall, we planed on crossing over the falls and up into the woods. The old growth forest peaked our interest, we had to see it. Excitement pumped my veins as we stepped off the paved part onto the steep dirt trail.
A switchback or two with steep inclines and I could have sworn we made it past the .75 miles needed to hike before reaching the forest part. No such luck, at least I had a canopy of mountain laurel over my head providing shade, beauty, and a magical Lord of the Rings kinda feel. I trekked on.
Ascending into the virgin forest my tired muscles forgotten. Yes, I took a deep breath, surrounded by huge hemlocks, poplars, and oaks reaching up into the sky, I wondered who passed by this path fifty years ago, 100 years ago when the hemlock trees were younger.
After hiking upward – didn’t this trail ever slope down? Even for a few feet? 3.1 miles later, we reached the end of our trail. A junction. Signs pointed in different directions of other trials you know, for adventurous hikers. One such sign - Cove Mountain - .9 miles, stood, taunting us. Well, not me, but it taunted Bryan. He had to climb to the top. “It’s only point nine-tenths of a mile,” he reasoned. I should have drawn my walking stick in protest. Should have said ‘this far and no further’. Should have turned around, headed downward, back through the forest, the laurel canopy, the falls themselves and then…the car, where a cooler full of sliced cantaloupe, red seedless grapes, and fresh cherries waited - taunting me.
But no,I somehow got sucked into his twisted logic. What’s 1.8 miles more when your roundtrip is already six-something?
Ha! Somewhere deep in the woods, the hiking gods laughed. “Look,” they sneered. “Day hikers! Trying to step up their game, we’ll show them!”
Holy smokes what a climb. A mere .9 of a mile, but it was the steepest inclined I’ve hiked in the Smoky Mountains thus far. More than my leg muscles screamed, my arms, and lungs joined the campaign. ‘We wanna go home,’ I kept suggesting it, too. Out loud. To Bryan, “If you want to head back, that’s fine with me.” I let him know, not wanting to be the first to whimp out. He declined every offer. Who was I to argue?
Finally, we reached the summit! What? A worn our fire tower long closed to the public and no look out view in sight. All overgrown with underbrush? You gotta be kidding me! After I climb 1,800 feet in four miles up to the top of a mountain, I want a stinking view, okay? And not just any view either. I want breath-taking, magnificent, holy crap this is a mother of a beautiful view! Up here, at 4,077 feet. Yeah, that kind of view.
My calf muscles didn’t care, neither did my growling stomach, nor my parched throat; plopping down onto the dirt my fingers dove into my pack for a dry – tastes like sawdust - granola bar. I devoured every morsel like Heresy’s Extra Dark Chocolate. I sucked on my second pint of water. Jeepers, I’m on my second pint? Four miles for the return trip. Oh great, I needed to watch my water consumption. Can someone call a cab?
“It will be easy,” Bryan said, trying to coax me off my butt onto my feet. “It’s all downhill from here.”
My brain said ‘get up’ but my body wouldn’t move. I could hear him, “We’ll be down before you know it.” I didn’t believe him. Four miles from the car! What the heck were we thinking?
“Whose bright idea was it to keep going?” I asked him, still firmly planted on the ground.
My legs felt like jelly. I stood, took a deep breath and headed back in the direction I came. Bryan was right, about the decent, it was quicker, but I’d have to argue about the easier part. Moving downward at a fast pace creates a different set of problems. Balance for one, especially when the trail is filled with rocks, and huge roots. Thank goodness I had a walking stick to lean on.
I joked with Bryan, “Yeah, the next time you even think about adding even one tenth of a mile more to our original hike,” I paused. We both laughed. I mentioned something about my walking stick and where I’d put it the next time he wanted to extend the hike. He laughed even harder. We never should have added on to the trip. Novice day hikers like ourselves should stick to five miles max!
I said a thank-you prayer when we got back to the falls. Paved trails, ah, easy sailing from here. Right?
Midway down Bryan, a few steps ahead of me froze. “A bear!” He whispered sticking his arm out to block my movement. I looked up and fifty feet in front of me, a huge black bear lumbered in our direction.
Yikes! Only this isn’t what I said.
Bryan grabbed my arm, trying to drag me in the opposite direction. I wouldn’t move fast enough for him. You aren’t supposed to turn your back on a bear. You aren’t supposed to run away from a bear. Make noise. Scare it away. I know. I read two pamphlets and one book on bears. Fear gripped my chest. Logic took over and I joined Bryan in turning to, not run but walk really fast away from the bear’s direction.
We stopped the first people we saw to warn them. A teenage girl with her parents. The teenager grabbed her digital camera from her purse, took a few quiet steps forward. Her mother whispered strong words of disapproval. By now, more hikers stopped. In the safety of numbers we tiptoed forward in time to see two small, cubs, about forty pounds each, run across the path up the mountain in the direction of the mother.
Bryan and I took this time to dart past. I never wanted the front seat passenger’s side of my burgundy Avalon so bad!
I knew one day I’d run across bears hiking in the Smokies, but I never dreamed it would be on a well-traveled path – one that attracts 200,000 visitors each year.
All in all it was an awesome hike. I’ve never seen old growth forest before. The next time Bryan says, ‘It’s only point nine tenths of a mile.” I’ll remind him about my stick and ask him if he’s sure.
|Ray Dellessio is back on CNN Headline News as the AM sports anchor – heck yeah, sweet action, baby. I’m up and at’em now. Grab my morning coffee and let me sit in front of the tube for a few. What a QT. Aaah yes, the morning sports report never looked so good.
I play a mixed match in a few minutes. I'll up date w/ a pic of QT Ray as soon as possible.
|Our TV’s out at work, and with all the rain delays at Wimbledon, it’s darn near impossible to keep up w/ who’s winning. Even if the television were working, we’ve been redoing our floors. Stripping and waxing. I’m on baseboard and crud in the corners detail. Dontcha just want to drop down and give me a hand? I’ve been here for almost seven years and I can’t remember stripping and waxing ever taking this long. The process is taking for-ever! My T.O.S flared up two hours into the scrubbing this past Monday. My elbows are screaming for me to quit and my back is – quite frankly – agreeing. The maintenance man swears we will be done tomorrow! Next time, I’m scheduling the prisoners to come in and do it.
The blue courts are coming along nicely. The interim department head stopped by this afternoon to release courts 3 & 4 which were completed close of Tuesday but no one was around yesterday with the authority to give the green light. Now, I’ve got six of the twelve courts blue. They look mag, too. They play a bit slow, sorta like damp to wet clay. But that should clear up over time and use. I can see the ball much better, but have a bit more difficulty judging depth w/ short balls. I’m sure this too, will improve over time and practice.
On a brighter note, I finally got cancelled Cinimax, switched out for the Sports and Information package with Cox Cable and now get the Tennis Channel. Just in time for the U.S. Open series coming up....Lord help you guys, right? Now there’s no shutting me and my tennis talk up!
|Bryant arrived just after ten Tuesday morning with Baxter, his huge golden retriever in tow. I heard the vehicle, looked up and saw the large green logo painted against the white truck pulling into our parking lot. “Court Makers! Yessssssss!” (Baxter, I later learned travels everywhere his owner does. He’s romped on countless tennis courts all over the southeast and I was all too happy to have his paws run across court one chasing an old tennis ball. Rumor has it he will appear in several local Atlanta TV commercials during the U.S. Open)
Two weeks ago, city council voted on the resurfacing of Tattnall’s courts and, they voted on blue. There had been talk about dark forest green w/ a light green border. Our courts are located downtown in the heart of Macon’s historic district – in the middle of Tattnall Square Park. Blue, some feared, might not blend in with the large 100 year old oak trees standing firm throughout the park, closely surrounding the tennis courts.
Still others argued painting Tattnall’s courts a different color than the newly renovated John Drew Smith courts would somehow send a message that Tattnall wasn’t as ‘good’ as JDS, or that the players there were somehow worth more.
Either color and I’d have been happy. I just want a clean smooth surface to chase down my backhand lobs. I am happier, though, with blue. It looks mag! and I can’t wait to play on my own blue courts!
This calls for a 'tennis day' dontcha think?
After two days of work.
Courts 9 & 10. Should be relased to the public on Sunday!
Baxter. Isn't he cute? so hugable.
click on the images to enlarge.
|I won my match Tuesday night. Granted, it took me three sets and almost four hours to do it, but I did! I even had a new partner – which can sometimes be frustrating cuz of the communication thing so important in doubles. We ironed ours out quickly and won the first set 7-5. Not easy, but fun, with lots of long points and great shots.
Second set I sucked. My partner was dead on her game, but what can she do? With me constantly taking my eye off the ball right before contact? Just call me little MissHit. We lost 3 – 6.
Format calls for a full third set and my bladder called for a bathroom break. I used this time to focus, came back and played much better – even surprising myself running down and making shots not typical of my regular play. I won all my service games – even though they all went to deuce a bahzillion and one times. At 6-all we had to play a set tiebreak – you know, the first to seven by two?
I served the first point. I play pretty relaxed in these tiebreak situations xuz it means it could go either way. Especially in this particular instance as I had greatly stepped up my groundstroke game. (Which was good, too – since my net game went to pot somewhere during the end of the first set). I told myself to have fun, no matter what the outcome, i played my best.
We were down 4-6 with our opponents serving for the match, but we came back to win the tiebreak 8-6 thus winning the match. And, to put icing on the win cake – we won as a team, too – 2-1! Woooohoooooo. Now, where’s my Hornsby’s?
|I won my match last Friday night. It took me three hours and three sets to do it, but victory was mine! (7-5;4-6; 6-4) I caved in the beginning of the second set. Totally zoned out. Lost my focus and before I knew it, I was down 4-1. Oh no I had to win two more games no matter what! I did not want to lose that set with only one or two games. I roared during the first few games of the third set. Waiting on the ball, not getting caught up in the win. ‘Calm down,’ I told myself. ‘Just stroke the ball.’ I was up 4-1 but then got nervous about the score, she stepped up her game and the next thing I knew, it was 5-4 – her serve, deuce point.
I can’t even remember how I won that point. But my AD – I returned it deep in the corner of her AD court. She was too tired to run it down and I won the match.
I play a doubles match with Valerie against her and her partner. I’ve never even met Val. I just hope we don’t get double bageled. Then, Wed,’s match determines whether I get first or second place trophy for singles!
|I'm apologizing ahead of time. i know this entry is choppy and not altogether creative, but it's hard to be creative when you are tired. I’m wiped. Eighteen hours of work in a twenty-four hour period will do that to you. Six hundred players entered the Georgia Qualifying (GA level 1) Tournament hosted by one of our local CTA’s and I had to work.
Saturday’s much needed rain forced format in play changes and matches scheduled late on Sunday evening. 10PM (Sunday) and the tournament desk put on it’s last few matches for the night. I keyed my security code to shut down my facility at 11:30PM only to return the next morning –this Monday morning at 6:40AM. It barely felt like I went home.
Rain delays made for a few unhappy players – especially parents. But in general, everyone smiled, realizing this a part of junior competitive tennis. Even U.S. Open matches get backed up due to rain. At four this afternoon, I was past ready to go. (I did have enough energy to hit the Bath and Body Works semi annual sale though).
All of this is par for the course, save the plumbing problems. Yep. All of my 12 courts loaded up, backed up and the toilets go on strike. Seven-thirty Sunday evening and who the heck am I supposed to call. I phoned in a work order, crossed my fingers and whispered a quick prayer. Forty-five minutes later, the on-call guy pulls up.
“Hey Miss Robin, you got a leak?”
“Um, it’s more than that.”
After a quick inspection he informs me the job is too big for him, he needs reinforcements and machinery. He will be back first thing in the morning.
Oh great. Meanwhile, what the heck am I supposed to tell these teenage girls who dash to the ladies room between sets wearing their tennis skirts and twisted up faces when they realize they cannot go to the bathroom?
True to his promise, the plumber arrives, with renforcements; Neal, and the snake, and the head plumber on the way. Only the three of them are unable to fix it. The reinforcements need reinforcements.
Thirty minutes later, Dave, the ultimate reinforcer arrives with his massive truck to wash out two underground lines which are apparently stopped up.
Don’t ask how man times I, along with one of the plumbers, and the custodian guy mopped both restrooms. My T.O.S. arms died long before the job was done.
One of my friends called me up after I had shot him a few emails about the problem and its progression.
“Just wanted to see if you have all your shit together…” he laughs over the phone.
I’m just glad I’m at home. Another early day tomorrow but things should start to return to normal wed or thurs.