Well, we're getting closer to the end -- only two weeks left. I myself have only five pounds left to lose, which as Eleanore says, "is possible". That girl is SUCH a positive thinker. We should bottle her and sell her essence online. "Eau d'Eleanore" (eet zounds zo French, oui?) -- makes you crazily optimistic, super smiley, wildly competitive, and smell nice too! She's been looking for a tennis-related business opportunity and with her MBA and brand-management skills, I think she could make this one fly, don't you agree? Our other idea is tennis panties that say "KICK ASS" on the backside. Or maybe sports bras with bull's-eyes printed on 'em, with the tag line, "Go ahead, Bee-yatch, peg me here! I dare ya!)
In other news, I attended the team captains' meeting this afternoon as an uninvited guest, and I want to be the first to tell you that they've chosen the team uniforms for next year already. I know you're irritated that you didn't get to have a vote, but you'll be over it once you take a peek.
This is the uniform for home matches.
And here's the one for "away"...
Personally, I like both red and black, so I'm entirely happy. Plus all those ties and laces will accentuate our new figures in ways that will be totally intimidating to the opposite team. They'll just probably forfeit most matches, weeping with envy.
I lurvvvvvve to break people's spirits.
Naturally, you're also free to wear these in your spare time at home. Your husbands will be glad you've taken up the noble pursuit of tennis.
But gosh, you're wondering about other stuff, like "Ellie, what did you do all weekend?"
Indeed, what did I do? Well, I celebrated yet another birthday, which makes me horrifyingly older than many of you young things (ELEANORE! Ellen! Sue M! the rest of you!) Yet I thoroughly enjoyed it, and my darling husband treated me like the adorable creature I am. The main thing he did for me this weekend, while I slaved away doing the grocery shopping, working on the church's capital campaign, and cooking and prepping for a dinner party for eight ON MY BIRTHDAY was that he relaxed in his burgundy leather chair and watched the golf on tv.
"WHAT?????"
I know, you're all screaming at him for me, outraged on my behalf. But wait. Wait till you hear what he gave me for my special day.
I was rushing past, dusting, and grilling tomatoes, and peeling avocados, and such, and I looked up and... I stopped in my tracks.
PHWOARRRRR! [That's British for, "I'll have some o' that!"]
There on the television screen was this:
I know! You were thinking golf as in "Jack Nicklaus" and "Arnold Palmer" and poor old pudgy "John Daly". And Tiger, well, we won't even mention his name, hey? He almost succeeded in putting me off golf entirely. Dork!
Ever so casually, I said to Mr. D, "Oh, my! Who's that?"
He raised an eyebrow and sent me a knowing glance.
"Good call, my darling pet. He's Camilo Villegas, the latest golf phenom from Columbia. And all the ladies like him, because he checks out his lies by doing two finger push-ups on the green."
Looks like four fingers and a thumb to me, but I'm not going to quibble.
Man, my husband knows me so well! It's good when one has that kind of relationship -- where he can appreciate the art of sport, and steer me to a deeper understanding of the nuances of good play. I have to say, he made my birthday super special.
I also booked a ticket for Camilo to come visit us here in Chicago. Maybe Mr D will take him up to play at Medinah, and I can cook him up something special for later. We shall see.
And on that note, now I'm going to practice my putting on the carpet in the basement. I have a lot of catching up to do.
Ta ta for now.
x e
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