30-Love

So, on Saturday and Sunday I experienced this phenomenal thing called a "weekend". It's like, a couple of days where you get to do fun things--things that you really want to do--and then you can sleep a little bit late the next morning. It's a really cool idea, I'm glad someone came up with it.

While I did still log in some hours at the day job (sound of wheels grinding, grinding, creaking, stopping) I did manage to:

Play Tennis

Yes, I did. Sort of. Okay, so, the equestrian (I know, I know, I am sick of the moniker too and kind of sick of dwelling on all the things we do to pass our time. I'm sorry. But this is my life and I haven't yet determined if no longer being single should mean no longer blogging as it does for some bloggers. When I started this blog I wasn't single. So, we'll see. I'll wait it out, if it all gets too cloying let me know.) Anyway, he was at one time a tennis instructor (yeah, that too, jack of many I guess). I was, at one time, a tennis pupil. A lousy tennis pupil.

I played on my Junior Varsity high school tennis team my sophomore year. I was second string doubles. Which basically meant I was the lowest category possible where the matches actually counted. But I did enjoy playing.

My brother was, of course, very good at tennis. My brother was very good at many sports. I was not very good at any sports. I still joined my fair share of teams--five years of soccer, five years of gymnastics, two summers of tennis lessons, one summer of softball--note, I was not very good at any of these sports. I was particularly bad at softball.

I suppose in the long run it is good that I still tried, both for the sake of humility and for the sake of physical well-being. Sports forced me to be active and to be social. Most of my friends were very athletic. They were smart girls who also did sports. I was a smart girl who also did music and theater. I wanted to be around them more so I tried to do sports. They always tolerated my efforts. I was glad for that (even if I did lose the relay for us on field day in fifth grade).

Anyway, for some reason in high school I decided I wanted to join a team again and tennis seemed like the best option. My brother had played for a year, I was friends with the cool alternative chicks who played on the women's team, so for once in my life I got past the fact that I was *bad* at something and did it anyway.

I was reminded of this on Saturday.

For the weeks leading up to it, a tennis date seemed like a good idea. It would be a fun way to be active. The weather had been consistently nice, not crazy hot (as it is now, curses) and I was totally jazzed about trying to conjure up any skill I once had and better yet--to improve! To be able to play a game sometime! Right? Maybe.

We drove up to the courts in Georgetown and I started having second thoughts. No, actually, I got on the metro to head to Georgetown in the first place, and I started having second thoughts. People would see my racket and think "What is she doing going to play tennis? She is so clearly not an athlete. Impostor. Who does she think she is?"

I seriously thought this. It's what comes of growing up in a town that values athletic ability above nearly anything else and knowing full well that this was never, ever going to be my forte. I suddenly recede to the nervous ten-year-old in sweaty shin guards half-heartedly playing halfback (no pun intended) while the crowds cheered on my goal-scoring friends with their long legs and speedy gaits. And so when we actually get to the court I am a little relieved that they are occupied.

"Another time, maybe?" Ah. He knows of another court.

Right.

We go, it is empty, I actually start feeling clammy, like this was a bad idea, I suck at tennis and I get defensive when people try to teach me things and why did I think this would be fun?

The long and short of it was: the eq is a great teacher, patient but persistent, and he managed to make me feel like I didn't totally suck while also acknowledging that I definitely play a version of "push tennis"--meaning I never actually complete a swing, just kind of shove the ball as close to where I think it needs to be as I can manage. We worked on what a swing feels like and where I need to be in relation to the ball to make that swing work. Bottom line is, I get in too close to the ball. Need to fight that instinct.

I also need tennis shoes because my running shoes stick to the court. Although I may also need new running shoes, so, eh--all of this is still cheaper than a gym but at this point I definitely need to stick to one shoe investment at a time. And since I don't foresee the next time we will have a chance to hit the courts, the running shoes are probably the better bet.

Relax on a Patio

Two patios, actually. Following the tennis we had dinner at a restaurant patio and then beers on a patio with friends. Both were lovely, and once I got over my Glover Park prejudice I was actually able to acknowledge the fact that the restaurant we went to was not pretentious at all (though it must be said--I was surrounded by madras) and was actually more reasonably priced than similar places on the hill. The privately owned patio was even better--great company and great conversation, the only drawback there being that I didn't load up on the bug spray and now have constellation-like formations of mosquito bites on both of my legs.

Next time I see you, ask, and I'll totally show you Orion.

Visit Costco

I think this is fun anyway. We were there on a mission--party-planning and the like, but I still like marvelling at the four gallon tubs of ketchup and wondering about the people who purchase them.

Attended Meetings

A-ha, very important, blahty-blah, important meeting, yes, of course, lots of important stuff talked about...

Right? I mean, kind of. Right?

And, well, that's about it. All in all pretty lovely. So nice to start seeing the world and all the people in it once again.