Wednesday, August 31
Crazy times on boring days
I finally subdued the whor--rible online library, which has a coy attitude towards Macs, with several plugins. Who’s your daddy now eh ! I also completed a couple of cumbersome online forms, which I probably should have completed a long time ago, if I’d not been sooo lazy, and if the widely-used-but-extremely-technologically-backward website had accepted browsers other than Interfag Explorer running on Win-fcuking-dows platforms. The information that I painstakingly filled in, got eaten up by dontknowwhatfcuk IE / Win errors, thrice. But did I give up ? No ! So now, two (completed) forms, half a day, a rusty penknife and a dead dog in a pool of blood later (had to vent my frustrations somehow, ok), I was finally done. DONE, I say !
We’re officially fridgeless. Our faithful old fridge in the corner finally gave up the fight after several near fatal chokes in recent months. Rest in peace, metal. This evening, we went down to Courts and signed the papers for a shinier icebox. It is to be the first new fridge I ever know in this household. It will be delivered on Thu. Till then, take-outs for all !
I finally subdued the whor--rible online library, which has a coy attitude towards Macs, with several plugins. Who’s your daddy now eh ! I also completed a couple of cumbersome online forms, which I probably should have completed a long time ago, if I’d not been sooo lazy, and if the widely-used-but-extremely-technologically-backward website had accepted browsers other than Interfag Explorer running on Win-fcuking-dows platforms. The information that I painstakingly filled in, got eaten up by dontknowwhatfcuk IE / Win errors, thrice. But did I give up ? No ! So now, two (completed) forms, half a day, a rusty penknife and a dead dog in a pool of blood later (had to vent my frustrations somehow, ok), I was finally done. DONE, I say !
Saturday, August 20
Tennis bumper
I must have been too jumpy, literally, when I fell while trying to hit the ball. Coach made me rest at the side bench (woot ! no need to retrieve balls ! ), where I watched him bounce the balls to the girls to test their forehands.
I must have watched at least six of them had their go. It turned out to be quite an experience of some sort. It was one of the few times when I actually learnt something while doing nothing.
As I sat on my ass while the rest of them tried to strike the balls over the net as successfully as they could, I saw an assortment of awkward beginners’ moves that were, well, too obvious not to be noticed (by a spectator).
Coaches and teachers must have had it hard, when students just don’t get it, even after all the repeated instructions. I caught myself grimacing at the recurring mistakes and thinking, did I twist my shoulders like that too ? Or swing my bat like I was handling a 10-pound sack of rice ? Darn, no wonder I was not hitting the balls right !
Before my practice, I suggested to Dee (who hadn’t touched tennis for quite a while), booking a court and practicing a couple of rounds.
He looked me, horrified, and exclaimed how one of the most painful things in the world (of sports) was to watch amateur players (like us) on the court. I laughed. After the injury time-out at the bench, I had to agree with that.
I’m gonna book a practice wall instead.
In one freak move, I bumped my knees and twisted my ankle during tennis practice yesterday.
I must have been too jumpy, literally, when I fell while trying to hit the ball. Coach made me rest at the side bench (woot ! no need to retrieve balls ! ), where I watched him bounce the balls to the girls to test their forehands.
I must have watched at least six of them had their go. It turned out to be quite an experience of some sort. It was one of the few times when I actually learnt something while doing nothing.
As I sat on my ass while the rest of them tried to strike the balls over the net as successfully as they could, I saw an assortment of awkward beginners’ moves that were, well, too obvious not to be noticed (by a spectator).
Coaches and teachers must have had it hard, when students just don’t get it, even after all the repeated instructions. I caught myself grimacing at the recurring mistakes and thinking, did I twist my shoulders like that too ? Or swing my bat like I was handling a 10-pound sack of rice ? Darn, no wonder I was not hitting the balls right !
Before my practice, I suggested to Dee (who hadn’t touched tennis for quite a while), booking a court and practicing a couple of rounds.
He looked me, horrified, and exclaimed how one of the most painful things in the world (of sports) was to watch amateur players (like us) on the court. I laughed. After the injury time-out at the bench, I had to agree with that.
I’m gonna book a practice wall instead.
Friday, August 12
Spoken like a novice
I’m officially a tennis novice !
Even the bad start couldn’t dampen it; I was caught in the mad evening jam, and when I got to the courts, Coach was already teaching the rest of the peeps the basic footwork.
We had nine girls (including me) in the class and only one boy. One of them girls was decked out in pro tennis apparel – all Nike, by the way – complete with a beautiful Wilson racket and thermoguard bag.
I was carrying a droopy backpack, wearing my old-school running shorts and using a borrowed Head racket sizes too big for my hands. Haha. I found the contrast amusing.
Coach was good. He was absolutely serious in what he did without being all stiffed up like an old headmaster. I liked him almost immediately. Of course, I loved his Wilson nCode cap even more. In fact, Coach had had so much pretty Wilson stuff on him I was beginning to think that he must be a sponsored athlete or coach or something. Haha.
He was checking out our forehand grips one by one and when he came around to me, he told me instantly that my racket’s grip was too big for my hands. I laughed and yelled I know ! I’m gonna change that soon ! When we got down to serving the shots, he took a look at my huge racket again, and swapped it with his own.
So I ended up swinging a battered Wilson Hammer for the rest of my strokes.
It was awesome. I loved it more than the borrowed Head racket. It weighed like a baby after the Head ‘ket.
But it was only when I got home did I realize, the Hyper Hammer 6.3 I was using was the famous racket that Wilson designed for Serena Williams after they signed up the Williams sisters right before the ’99 U.S Open.
Serena then went on to win the Open (and more ! ) with the racket.
How cool is that ??
I was excited. After days of anticipation, I had my -first- formal lesson for a racket sport yesterday.
I’m officially a tennis novice !
Even the bad start couldn’t dampen it; I was caught in the mad evening jam, and when I got to the courts, Coach was already teaching the rest of the peeps the basic footwork.
We had nine girls (including me) in the class and only one boy. One of them girls was decked out in pro tennis apparel – all Nike, by the way – complete with a beautiful Wilson racket and thermoguard bag.
I was carrying a droopy backpack, wearing my old-school running shorts and using a borrowed Head racket sizes too big for my hands. Haha. I found the contrast amusing.
Coach was good. He was absolutely serious in what he did without being all stiffed up like an old headmaster. I liked him almost immediately. Of course, I loved his Wilson nCode cap even more. In fact, Coach had had so much pretty Wilson stuff on him I was beginning to think that he must be a sponsored athlete or coach or something. Haha.
He was checking out our forehand grips one by one and when he came around to me, he told me instantly that my racket’s grip was too big for my hands. I laughed and yelled I know ! I’m gonna change that soon ! When we got down to serving the shots, he took a look at my huge racket again, and swapped it with his own.
So I ended up swinging a battered Wilson Hammer for the rest of my strokes.
It was awesome. I loved it more than the borrowed Head racket. It weighed like a baby after the Head ‘ket.
But it was only when I got home did I realize, the Hyper Hammer 6.3 I was using was the famous racket that Wilson designed for Serena Williams after they signed up the Williams sisters right before the ’99 U.S Open.
Serena then went on to win the Open (and more ! ) with the racket.
How cool is that ??
Tuesday, August 9
She turns 40
No fireworks for us, so Lecter and me are gonna be off to catch some fireflies elsewhere instead !
*
PS : I caught the MTV for James Blunt’s You’re Beautiful. It was weird. Blunt standing there, peeling off his sweater then tee, then sitting down, and emptying his pockets and taking off his shoes, before jumping into the sea ?
Must be the most incomprehensible and unrelated MTV I’ve seen in a while.
Happy National Holiday, peeps.
No fireworks for us, so Lecter and me are gonna be off to catch some fireflies elsewhere instead !
*
PS : I caught the MTV for James Blunt’s You’re Beautiful. It was weird. Blunt standing there, peeling off his sweater then tee, then sitting down, and emptying his pockets and taking off his shoes, before jumping into the sea ?
Must be the most incomprehensible and unrelated MTV I’ve seen in a while.
Sunday, August 7
It’s a warm up
Okay, I’m picking up aerobics. Coupla of weeks back, I shopped ‘ard online for a course, called the sports center, spoke to a good lady called HS, asked a few questions and generally assumed that that she would be my instructor.
Turned out I got a tall, dark, hunky male instructor instead.
Sure, he may be a tanned Vin Diesel who dances well and all. But really, I’m not sure if it’s any big bonus.
He’s almost always late for classes, never makes up for lost time, and often lets us off early. I seldom catch the instructions that he shouts out in class because his words stick together; I’ve to take to mimicking the steps of the experienced ones in front of me for weeks. Gets pretty frustrating sometimes, I tell yer.
When I took up my place at the extreme right side of the class, I always get pushed to the corner. Oh how I hated that.
Few could see me in the enormous mirror right at the front of the dance studio, even though it covers nearly the length of the studio. You see, I actually had to do my stuff facing THE DOOR.
And right besides the blasting speakers too. By the end of 40 min, I was usually quite deaf.
So I switched position and migrated to the left of the class.
Where, for some mysterious reasons, they don’t do as much squeezing-dancers-to-a-corner. There, I get space, and rendezvous with the mirror from time to time (since I am still at the back). I don’t get eaten up by the booming music (fresh new experience). And I make acquaintance with a friendly lady who, like me, is a novice (yeahh).
Yes, my handsome instructor is still late for classes, and shouts mashed up strings of instructions. But now, I am removed from where the deafening music makes my head spin. I have room. I am catching up on the moves. I get to know someone new. So yeah, I am good.
*
PS : If you know any good aerobics titles on books or discs, tell me. I would love to check them out.
It’s been a while, so well … let’s see, if I can start up the writing engine again. Let’s begin with something small.
Okay, I’m picking up aerobics. Coupla of weeks back, I shopped ‘ard online for a course, called the sports center, spoke to a good lady called HS, asked a few questions and generally assumed that that she would be my instructor.
Turned out I got a tall, dark, hunky male instructor instead.
Sure, he may be a tanned Vin Diesel who dances well and all. But really, I’m not sure if it’s any big bonus.
He’s almost always late for classes, never makes up for lost time, and often lets us off early. I seldom catch the instructions that he shouts out in class because his words stick together; I’ve to take to mimicking the steps of the experienced ones in front of me for weeks. Gets pretty frustrating sometimes, I tell yer.
When I took up my place at the extreme right side of the class, I always get pushed to the corner. Oh how I hated that.
Few could see me in the enormous mirror right at the front of the dance studio, even though it covers nearly the length of the studio. You see, I actually had to do my stuff facing THE DOOR.
And right besides the blasting speakers too. By the end of 40 min, I was usually quite deaf.
So I switched position and migrated to the left of the class.
Where, for some mysterious reasons, they don’t do as much squeezing-dancers-to-a-corner. There, I get space, and rendezvous with the mirror from time to time (since I am still at the back). I don’t get eaten up by the booming music (fresh new experience). And I make acquaintance with a friendly lady who, like me, is a novice (yeahh).
Yes, my handsome instructor is still late for classes, and shouts mashed up strings of instructions. But now, I am removed from where the deafening music makes my head spin. I have room. I am catching up on the moves. I get to know someone new. So yeah, I am good.
*
PS : If you know any good aerobics titles on books or discs, tell me. I would love to check them out.
