Sunday, April 05, 2009
back and forth
Two more days and then I promise I’ll stop whining.
Waking up to snow on the ground was dismal. Knowing that the temperature would never climb out of the thirties today was worse. Hearing that tomorrow will bring more of the same was enough to make me dislike Wisconsin spring, period.
But, one must look forward.
Photo-wise, it was an irrelevant day. Housecleaning and errand hopping do not inspire a point and click. I went to the rooftop of my condo building, pressed once and retreated.
Back downstairs, the phone rings. My water polo was canceled. Want to play tennis?
Are you serious? (I ask, remembering that it did not ever pass 37 today.)
Good exercise…
Ed knows how to get me going. Ever since an MD told me I have the heart rate of a runner, I like to keep the pretense going.
I approach the court warily. Note the apparel on the kid. April? Huh. It’s that cold.
We go forth nonetheless. It’s a wild game. I actually return hits that, two weeks ago, I would have deemed unreturnable. Getting better, Ed tells me.
An hour later, we head back. Most of the snow has melted. Most of it.
Waking up to snow on the ground was dismal. Knowing that the temperature would never climb out of the thirties today was worse. Hearing that tomorrow will bring more of the same was enough to make me dislike Wisconsin spring, period.
But, one must look forward.
Photo-wise, it was an irrelevant day. Housecleaning and errand hopping do not inspire a point and click. I went to the rooftop of my condo building, pressed once and retreated.
Back downstairs, the phone rings. My water polo was canceled. Want to play tennis?
Are you serious? (I ask, remembering that it did not ever pass 37 today.)
Good exercise…
Ed knows how to get me going. Ever since an MD told me I have the heart rate of a runner, I like to keep the pretense going.
I approach the court warily. Note the apparel on the kid. April? Huh. It’s that cold.
We go forth nonetheless. It’s a wild game. I actually return hits that, two weeks ago, I would have deemed unreturnable. Getting better, Ed tells me.
An hour later, we head back. Most of the snow has melted. Most of it.
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