of a tennis player, hiker, writer |
I felt sorry for the people who happened to cross my path today, not to mention those countless emails I sent out. If you got anywhere near me, you were forced to listen to the play by play of how I won my match. Yep, I said win. I won. Ahhhhh that feels so good to type, so good to read. And its not that I get so caught up in winning. Itās just that, oh, during May of 2003, I suddenly experienced excruciating pain in my entire right arm, which eventually traveled to my left arm. Several doctors and MRIās later, I was diagnosed with Thoractic Outlet Syndrome. ā a fancy way of saying my ulnar nerves in both my arms are compressed. My pain levels were at eight 24/7. I had to give up tennis among other things, and even feared being permanently disabled. Through physical therapy and relearning how to use other body parts to do the work my arms used to do, my nerves finally settled down. While Iām still in chronic pain, I rarely experience the high levels of pain so common two years ago. This past July, I had a crazy idea, to get back out on the tennis court. - see if I couldnāt play. I had to change my strokes. I use two hands on my forehand side. This makes for a grip change when going for backhand shots. I looked like a true beginner swatting at the ball. Would I ever be able to play? Join a league, compete? I was determined. I told others , ācome September, Iām playing leagues.ā Like it was a fact, not just a pipedream. So, here I am, second week in October; the captain of a 2.5 womenās league team - playing doubles, and three matches in ā I did more than just play ā I WON! Yay for me & Melanie. |
The lights when out at the tennis center last night. Not my tennis center, the other public one, where I just so happened to be playing my match, just so happened to totally win one of my service games! I mean, I was ON my serve. My serve won every point that game1 (this has never happened to me) I was hitting my volleys pretty good too. Down the middle, you know those shots when both players think the other player is going for the ball and neither of them does ā those volleys. Not all the lights when out, so we decided to keep playing, thinking it wouldnāt matter. Oh, boy, were we wrong. I totally blew my next service game. Itās kinda hard to hit the ball if you can barely see it. (/what an idiot I was to keep going too.) I should have just stopped right there. Finally, after losing two games, I called it quits. We rescheduled for tonight. We are up in the first set 5 games to four. I called Robbie; heās gonna hit with me, work on my poaching skills, volley reviews. Melanie is serving. Four points and we win the set. Then, six games and we win the match. Tonight, at five-thirty at my tennis center ā I will be ON MY GAME! I will key in the scores as a Bateman win! Now, if I get my body to do what my mind is telling it. |
Itās after eight in the evening and the phone rings. The caller ID says The Joshua Cup. Itās Autumn. I pick up the receiver, āHey.ā I say. āMom.ā She says in a whisper. , āGuess whoās here?ā āWho?ā I ask. Not even bothering to guess. Whose presence would warrant a phone call? āDr. Rodenbery.ā She is still whispering. He must be standing at the counter waiting on his coffee or something. āReally?ā I ask, my words dipped in sweetness. Rodenberry is an identical twin. Heās my GYN guy. Heās Autumnās GYN too. (since Iām airing ā his twin bother is my sister Lisaās GYN). The family thatā¦.oh never mind. Anywaaaay, āHe is?ā I continue. āYes. And, itās embarrassing.ā Maybe so, but I am suppressing a giggle. She says, āSo, I called you cuz no one here understands Least of all, Calvin.. ā Iām wondering why she even told Calvin. āYou know what he said to me?ā It must be a rhetorical questions cuz she doesnāt let me respondā¦āCalvin says, āwhat? You mean cuz heās seen your junk?āā I canāt help it. A soft giggle erupts from my lips. Junk? In all my forty-one years, I have never heard of my āstuffā being called ājunkā Who does this Calvin think he his? Even still, Iām hit with a mental flash; A drunk loser in some smoky bar trying to hit on some girlā¦āhey baby., can I go through your junk?ā or, even worseā¦ āEvery womanās junk is one manā s treasure.ā āMom.ā She says, bringing me back to reality. āThis is a traumatic moment for me.ā I can almost see her stomping her foot. Again, laughing on my part. I guess, being twenty, itās embarrassing for her, seeing her gynecologist somewhere other than his office or examining room. āIs anyone with him?ā I ask, stepping over her trauma. Iām old, I have two children; my junk has been exposed more times than I care to count. Iām so over it. āYeah. ā āWell? Who? Is with him?ā āHis wife, and daughter.ā āIs she pretty?ā omg. Did I really just ask that? The gossipy me rearing her ugly head. āMoooom! Focus! Me. Your daughter. First born. Is having a moment. I need your help.ā Right. āAaaawwww. Autumn. Iām sorry.ā I say. āThat sucks. Canāt you like, go to the bathroom or something? Go to the back, wash some dishes.ā āCanāt. Nice try.ā āHas he said anything to you?ā She just went for her annual two days ago. I know he recognizes her. āNo.ā I talk her down, tell her I love her and am still smiling when I get off the phone. Grateful Iām still on the list to call when things are upsetting to her. |
okay guys, this was cute. give it a try: http://www.alphadictionary.com/articles/yankeetest.html my results: 71% (Dixie). Your neck must be at least pink! |
Level Seven. At least itās only in my right arm. My entire right arm. (well, okay, slight knot in my left elbow) Groping for relief in the form of distractionsā¦any suggestions? Chatted with my sis, emailed my fav buddy ā weāve been exchanging pics of places we want to go and foods weād like to eat, and movie stars we want to kiss. I have my tennis lesson in a few hours and gosh, Iām just not sure. I know Iāll try. Nothing like tennis to totally distract you. One hundred percent absorbed in tracking the ball, preparing your body for the point of contact, and then, executing your stroke. Every bit of your concentration occupied. Zero room left to think about pain or problems. In the meantime, no oneās here at the office, maybe Iāll lock the door, turn up my CD player real loud and dance. |
Usually, my blog entries are original, but, i saw this on the internet and had to share....to cute. Why? Why do we press harder on a remote control when we know the batteries are getting weak? Why doesn't Tarzan have a beard? Why does Superman stop bullets with his chest, but ducks when you throw a revolver at him? Whose idea was it to put an "S" in the word "lisp"? Why is it that no matter what color bubble bath you use the bubbles are always white? Why do people keep running over a string a dozen times with their vacuum cleaner, then reach down, pick it up, examine it, then put it down to give the vacuum one more chance? How do those dead bugs get into those enclosed light fixtures? And a favorite . . . The statistics on sanity are that one out of every four persons is suffering from some sort of mental illness. Think of your three best friends, if they are okay, then it's you! (personal note.... Going over my list of friends... they all seem fine... is there a problem here?) |
Damn! Sheās gonna be late again. How many detentions will this make? Four? Five? I donāt know, Iāve lost count. Forking out punishments left and right has not helped solve the problem either. Morning is not her best time of day. Did I spend THAT much time in front of the mirror when I was a teenager? Shoot. If I missed the bus, mom made sure housecleaning followed. And lots of it. Nothing phases her. She just moves slowly. Is it a bad thing to get your almost 16-year-old hooked on morning caffeine? So, when we climb into the avalanche, everyone is pissed. Oh wait āscuzme, sorry, T.Oāed. gotta get my slang up to speed. Where was I, ah yes, Ticked off. All three of us ā me, hubby, and laney. Bryan is driving so I grab the paper, scanning the headlines, my brain too pissed oh, I mean ticked to really read the articles. Then, I see it, a quote from a mother, Christe ā whose family was separated during the aftermath of Katrina. Some of them made it to Georgia. For weeks she could not locate all of her children. (she has five) āI couldnāt sleep, or eat. I would not wish this on anybody. Not even my worst enemy.ā The paper quoted her saying. A picture showed all members had finally made it to Georgia. All hugs and smiles. My anger melts. How can I, after all, be soooo ticked, when I have never had to worry about the safety of my children, where they were or even if they were alive or dead? The possibility of the experience is inconceivable to me. I say a quick pray I never have to know. I make small talk with her for the remainder of the ride to school. āLove you,ā I tell her while she grabs her back pack and purse jumping out of the car. āSee ya this afternoon.ā She just smiles. Saying āI love you.ā In front of her friends, maybe thatās embarrassing to her. Today, I know Iām lucky. Why canāt I always embrace this feeling? |
So, we never made it to Victoria Secret, but I did get a body part pierced. Lisa wasnāt in the mood for mall shopping. Sheās gotten into refurbishing furniture and she wanted to do some thrifting instead. Lunch and coffee were still part of the plan ā thank god for caffeine. I wanted a little bit more out of my day than old couches and worn out dressers. I made a few comments. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Pulling into the parking lot of Beyond Tattoo, I was regretting my two jokes I made about ink ā and wanting to get some ā more. Would Lisa slap me if I told her I was just teasing? So later, when we DIDNāT get tatts, I could always ask, āWhy didnāt you go?ā But here we were, sitting inside her Hunter green Ford Explorer, me fumbling through my purse ā checking out my cash. Did I even have enough to lay down new ink? As we stepped into the place, I had a brilliant idea, which would save my ass, or I should say - my skin from needles that day. āHow much does it cost to get a touch up?ā I asked the guy behind the counter. I already have a tattoo - on my upper right shoulder ā of a sun. Heās all smiles. Itās late afternoon and the place is empty. I guess heās glad to have company. Brandon, the younger guy, his co-worker answers for him. āThat depends.ā Like Iām supposed to know on what. He doesnāt offer an explanation so I have to ask. āOn what?ā hiding my irritation. Heās wet behind the ears ā got a lot to learn. My forgiveness is his today. āWell, ā he tilts his head back, half closes his eyes. Thinking this time a day must not be required too often. āOn the size. Or, if you got it here. Cuz if you got it here, touch ups are free.ā āI got it here.ā I say. They both glance at me. They arenāt sure. Maybe the āfreeā word prompted my response. āI did.ā Iām defensive. āOkay,ā says the older guy. Heās got the physical features of Latin decent. His nameās Oscar. ā Whatās the guys name who gave you the tattoo?ā Do I sense a smirk? Or is that just me? āI donāt know.ā I say. Now Iām the one half closing my eyes, conjuring up an image of MY tattoo artist. Did he mention his name? Oh my God. That was several years ago. I canāt remember. Are tatt artists like sex partners? Youāre supposed to remember their names? Oscar and Brandon are throwing names at me. None of which are ringing bells. I give a quick description and finally, they both agree it must be ????(I canāt even remember what they said. Why am I blocking?) Oscar says my tatt still looks pretty good, I could wait on the touch up. Soooo, not wanting to waste a trip to Beyond Tattoo, I decide to get my right ear cartilage pierced. Iāve had it done before but it closed up when I took the damn ring our for an MRI. Lisa makes jokes while I'm sitting in the chair. Brandon gets to do the honors. I tell him he did my navel ring. He doesn't remember me. Gee thanks. More jokes from Lisa. Sisterhood bonding is the ultimate. |
āOh My God!ā She tapped her index finger several quick times against the glass window of the driverās side ford tarus. āThatās the guy.ā Like Iām supposed know. Before I can respond, she answers, in that quick speed never take a breath until youāve spit out five sentences delivery. You know, teenagers and young adults all have it. Listening makes me gasp for the air I know she must need. āThree shots, skinny, no foam latte. You know!ā She gives me a quick glance. āI told you about him yesterday. The creepy guy?ā Itās been a long day. I search my memory. I sorta recall some story, told in that breathless tone, about some guy who gave her the creeps. Was I only half listening to her then? I laughed, a sort of repressed laugh, which came out like a snort. āWhat?ā Should I tell her? Itās funny to me; how young people talk. How she knows this man by the drinks he orders at her job? I smile. āI love you.ā I know, itās so off topic, but she flashes me a quick smile. āI know.ā She senses my weakness. My motherly warmness, and she dives in. āSo, do you love me enough to pay my Visa bill?ā āUm.ā I hesitate, trying to grope for a sarcastic response. āMom...ā Again, theirs that smile, the one with the dimples. āIāll pay you back.ā And after a small pause. āIām just not sure when.ā Sheās bought me lunch several times lately and I canāt resist. It must be tough going to school AND working. When I was a sophomore in college, I just went to school. I did not have to work thirty to forty hours a week. I admire her efforts. āOkay.ā She smiles. Now itās her turn. āI love you.ā |
Sifting through the chores of a Monday; workload compounded by Fridayās absence. I just couldnāt strike of some tasks of the To List while i was here on Saturday...asā¦oh cāmonā¦the rest of the free world gets a two days in a row weekend! (I know Iām being sarcastic) So, I get this email from my sister. My younger one ā Lisa, not my identical twin (Renee). Sheās on vacation and will be in town on Wednesday. Maybe Felicia will work for me, or Adam. Either way, I think Iām taking off and run around town with her. She lives further out in the ācountryā than me, shopping in Macon is a treat for her. The local mall calling our namesā¦lunch at Atlanta Bread Company, coffee at Joshua Cup. I should tell her to bring her bating suit, we can swim at my house when we are done maxing out our credit cards. (I donāt really do this-max out the card) just felt fun to type. Picturing myself laden with clothes found on sales racks, a couple of pairs of shoesā¦Victoria Secret stuff too. Yeahā¦I am so there! |
Relaxation was mine today. Successfully sweeping away the exhaustion of yesterday. I took advantage of the heat and have already gone for two quick swims in the pool. I tried to convince others to swim withā¦but they all had other plans. So, I swam alone, enjoying the peace and quiet. āDonāt judge a book by its cover.ā The words rung true to my feelings after reading a short story from a myspace friend. He posts his work, we, lucky audience, get to read and make comments. The difference between this process and writing.comās is that the works are already published. So a different approach is needed when reviewing. On writing.com even though we call it reviewing, it feels more like critiquing. (I love both sits for very different reasons.) Not only have I read some interesting pieces, Iāve found lots of new literary sites, to dive into for new reading material. |
Being juvenile. Itās that residual thing. canāt shake it off. Not like Iām holding a grudge, but, unable to just let it go. Well, so most of the time I can forget, and let go, but, when something negative arises, Iām hit with a fresh wave of hurtful memories; as was the case last night. (I"ll peck the details out in one of my private 'for my eyes only blog') Now, Iām just pissed off. Torgued ā I like that word, I saw in an email this week. To further emphasize my unpleasant mood, Iām working on a Saturday. That really bites if you ask me! I know, i just need to get over myself huh? can i throw something? Where's my stilettos? so, if you don't get the whole....HHHHHHH thing, e me and i'll explain |
I so totally have writer's block today. |
Rome. You know the city that wasnāt built in a day? The HBO series? Well, as Iāve mentioned before ā Iām into it. Even though Iām still tripping over how quickly Pullo recovered from his brain surgery! They show Niobeās baby, small and in arms, before and afterā¦like that baby hasnāt even grown a single solitary inch. But whatever, its still good, still worth a peek if you havenāt already watched it. So, tonightās a big night. The team, MY team ā not laneyās has its first team practice ā our first team match next Tuesday at JDS. Being the captain, Iāll have to assess everyoneās strengths and weaknesses to try and pair them up to make solid doubles teams. Iāll get our coach to make recommendations. Anyway, I am soooo tired now. Iāve got stuff to do and my brain does not want to focus. I know, story of my life. Yeah, yeah, Catch up w/ ya laterā¦ |
So, the coke people just dropped by. Well let me back up, the representatives from the Atlanta Coca-Cola Bottling Company dropped by. If you arenāt a resident of Georgia, then you donāt knowā¦there is only Coke. Period. No Pepsi, and oddly enough, no dr. pepper, no mellow yellow, just Coke. Coke, Coke, and oh yeah, Coke. Even if your fingers are wrapped around a green bottle of Sprite, itās really just COKE. Anyway, where was I? I know, Iām rambling. Yeah, so Kel, from the district office drops by with some guy named Don, Dressed in office professional clothes ā both of them. They just finished eating lunch at Chiliesā and made a joke about it. I played along, asking Don where my food was. They laughed. They came to chck out the broken machine. You know, the one that was vandalized during the break in like um. WEEKS ago ā back just before the Hilton Hed trip ā THAT long ago Iāve requested, and so has the service man, a new vending machine. Iām still waiting. So, Kel, had been instructed by higher ups to verify Iāve done all humanly possible to prevent break ins against their machine or whatever. Yes, Kel, I have a security system, and the machine is located INSIDE my facility. I tell her all about the break in. āOh my gosh,ā I start out, with lots of enthusiasm. āThey tore apart my fence post, walked around to the back, and smashed this window.ā My arm points to the now fixed glass. āYep.ā Iām shaking y head. āCost me four hundred dollars to fix.ā Well, in truth, it cost the City four hundred dollars, but whoās squabbling over details. āWow.ā She says, eyes wide open, visibly impressed. So I continue. āYes. And, I havenāt even gotten the bill for the fence yet.ā This is true. I havenāt the foggiest idea how much the fence repair will set me back. Well, set back the cityās tennis center budget. Back to that detail thing again. āAnd,ā I continue, Iāve got an audience. Iām not wasting an opportunity. āThey tore up the coke machine but werenāt able to get the money out. Sooooo, they walked behind the counter and stole the snack money.ā Then, I proceed to tell her, how I cleared all the bills from the snackās register, leaving only coin. āCouldnāt have been more than five dollars.ā I conclude. Nothing pisses me off more than thieving. She sees Iām not the negligent party, offers me her card, in case I need to get in touch with her again. āOrders will still be taken from the Tampa office.ā She tells me, but anything else, feel free to give her a buzz. They walk out, thanking me for selling their product and promising to see about getting me a new machine. |
Rome comes on in a few minutes. Last weekās episode lost me during the brain surgery thing. Not the performance, however, the recovery Titus seemed to have. How could one heal so quickly? Then go off to fight again? Iām still hooked. We watched Globe Trekkers a bit ago. Iāve only watched it a few times but I love the guides. This week, they went to the Caribbean. I so want to go. Went to church with Autumn. What a great service. I havenāt been in forever. Praise and worship was excellent and so was the sermon. Then, we at lunch at the Atlanta Bread Company. Shopping at Target for a car package for some buddies of Reneeās in New Orleans. It feels different, actually addressing a package, as opposed to the stuff we dropped off at Liberty Church last week. Well, gotta get the dogs fed and outside in time to watch Rome. |
I gotta get it in gear. Yesterday was horrible for me, the before school fights w/Laney, my pain levels up so high, and then, seeing Louise in the hospital. Lying there so thin and frail. Tubes everywhere. She isnāt coming home. How can she? Nothing but skin and bones, not even aware of those around her. The reality stabbed deep into my heart yesterday morning as I stood over her, my hand tenderly stroking her head. I knew it before ā I havenāt been in denial. It struck Laney the morning before. I came back to my office and buried myself in paperwork and phone calls. Providing me w/ distractions. I keep seeing her, in my mindās eye, her face full of laughter, her voice boisterous, her presence strong. Then, I could see her in the hospital so helpless, struggling for her life. Why is death taking so long? Playing with her, swatting her around. Walking away only to return for another blow? If anyone deserves to quietly, peacefully and quickly go,itās Louise. I hate deathās cruelty. |