Forty love

I learned a lot some things about tennis this week.

I returned to the Rock Hill Tennis Center on Tuesday to see some more of the Rock Hill Rocks Open.

This time I had TG as my escort. He took a day off to spectate some splendid serves and lovely lobs -- not to mention vigorous volleys -- in the autumn sunshine.

Natalie lost in singles but played doubles after lunch. She and her partner, Jacqueline Cako, won that match.

Jackie told TG if this tennis gig doesn't work out, she plans to become a doctor.

Alrighty then!

Nat and Jackie are all set to play dubs again today, may even be playing as I make a stab at finishing this post, which I started yesterday but lacked the wherewithal to complete.

You might as well know: travel -- even short trips -- on consecutive days with early rising times, and including visits to large cemeteries in still-hot weather, gangs up on me and makes a recovery day not only necessary but mandatory.

On recovery days I accomplish nothing. I think there's something wrong with me.

Is there a doctor in the house? Jackie?

Hearing no reply, I will assume she's busy playing tennis.

So anyway here it is Thursday already and I haven't got a clue what to tell you about so I'll just say I don't understand a few things.

One, why in tennis does love mean zero?

Love should never, ever equal zero. I am just saying.

And why does the scoring go fifteen, thirty, forty, then you win the game?

Why isn't it fifteen, thirty, forty-five, or either ten, twenty, thirty, forty?

Whoever made all that up didn't take any of those logic tests that used to drive me crazy.

They kept talking about breaking and I guess I'll never really know what that meant.

And I don't know how they play tennis with the sun shining directly into their eyes, like it was for Natalie in these photos.

I didn't get any pictures of this (should have) but the bags the players carry their racquets and gear around in make them look like big insects.

Here! Here is a picture of a Babolat racquet pod! Imagine it on the back of a lean, athletic girl.

Point Jenny.

One last thing and I'll go do the ironing.

TG and I got together in August of 1978 and for Christmas that year, while we were still only dating, he asked his mother (athletic type, like everyone in their family, not at all like me, I am not a real Weber, let me make that crystal clear) to go to the store and pick out a tennis racquet for my Christmas.

Does the term "lead balloon" mean anything to you? How about "ham sandwich in a synagogue"?

Yeah. I had that racquet in my hand maybe once. I was an ingrate.

Allow me to make it easy for you. When considering a gift for me? Jewelry. Perfume (you cannot go wrong with Chanel). Poetry books. Johnny Depp's cell phone number.

If in doubt, a generous gift card to TJ Maxx -- or Tiffany & Co. -- is always appropriate.

I like it! Simple. Easy to remember. ~Captain Jack Sparrow

OK I've bored you long enough. Housework beckons. Mitt Romney would love me! I like keeping house and I don't think there's a war on women.

Happy Thursday!

Comments

[glenda]

Yep, you're right.....LOVE should never, ever equal ZERO! And, tennis never seemed to beckon me to even want to get a tennis racquet, much less play the game! And after all that tennis watching and graving in two days you deserved a recovery day or two. I would have loved to have been there recovering with you. Watching movies, eating cake, just chillin'....................G.

[Sue the Hobbit]

I have a despicable case of tennis elbow right now, courtesy of a collision with the kitchen counter. Does that count for anything? Even though I haven't played tennis in over thirty years?

[irene]

I too believe Love should never mean zero. I'm with you lady, I need a rest day, and I just don't get anything done. MY house shows it, my husband has been away for the week and I thought I'd get tons done, well not is an understatement. He'll be home tomorrow, and all that he'll see is clean underwear... poor man, he needs to shop for another wife, or maybe I should. I understand your dilemma with the racket, it's like me getting a trap shooting gun. I'd be ungrateful too.

[Justin Credible]

Modern tennis looked like this, originally:

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/0/0d/Lawn-tennis-Prang-1887.jpeg

Given that, I posit that the thought behind having no score being called love might've (might have) been that even when one has nothing, they still have love.