An artist tries to recreate the scene of the attack.
Thanks in large part to these racquetball blog posts, Terry (Lisa’s father) has expressed an interest in playing together when he came out to help with Lisa’s chemo recovery. “How nice,” thought I, “a little guy bonding with my quasi-kinda-father-in-law. Surely great strides in mutual understanding and respect will result from this adventure. Why, in the afterglow of the manly rites of physical contest, we might just come to see one another as family!”
History is rife with stories of fathers who disapprove of their daughters’ choice of mate. They’ve imprisoned the daughters, smothered them, had the men assassinated or transported to Australia… but never, NEVER, has a father tried to cause a fatal brain hemorrhage with a well-placed racquetball.
I still don’t plan to do this all the time, but man o man yesterday’s match was epic. I met Dave again, spur-of-the-moment style. He won the first game 15-8, and I’m thinking “oh well, not sneaking up on him this time.” He won the second game 15-12. Okie-doke, so I’m losing the best 2 out of 3 proposition (again – I don’t think I’ve ever taken 2 of 3 from someone).
(Don’t let the title fool you, I won’t post EVERY SINGLE TIME I play… more like occasional progress reports.)
I really like exercising, believe it or not, but I despise working out. I just cannot summon up any enthusiasm for lifting weights, calisthenics, etc… For several years I took kickboxing classes, and they were a lot of fun, but I kinda plateaued / lost interest eventually and since then hadn’t found anything to replace it.