|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Monday June 25, 2001
"Les choses que l'on sait le mieux sont celles qu'on n'a pas apprises." Luc de Clapiers, Réflexions et maximes
window with bullet hole...from the urban adventurers file
|
|
failure I wake up unwillingly amid dreams of live and dead pigs and grandstands. On the cusp of achievement, I feel failure accutely. Utterly. I feel the letdown of reality. It's odd, but true. At work, the CEO sends out a video and a game to play about protecting confidential information. (Actually, I get it after work. And, yes, I play the game. The first 200 people to do so get a free luggage lock.) FFP and I go to the club again and I show him the volley and the serve. He's ready for action now. Actually, he did better than I when I first tried. I can't actually show him how to do it well since I'm missing half my shots. It's fun, though. These courts are so beautiful they call out for great shots. The good news is that no one was anywhere near us again so we were left peacefully to our attempts. It's like being rich enough to have your own court. FFP observes later, in front of the TV, that his forearm hurts. "Muscles you never knew you had," he observes. "Wait until you learn to bend your knees. Then your butt will hurt." Chalow seems to not be feeling well. She isn't scampering around. FFP even took her by the vet for a check but he found nothing. Maybe we walked too far with her yesterday. In bed with us, she likes my hand. Her tongue seems too hot. Surely my imagination. But I know my dog well.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
