Cough, cough, hack, hack

Sunburn, fatigue, fever, blisters. Those are just my main excuses for coming in dead last in the women's open. I got the chills in the midst of the finals and couldn't tell if I was coming down with the flu or heat stroke. It was probably a bit of both. And learning today at the trophy presentation that the boys' finals has to be rescheduled for Friday because one of the players is sick and that I am now also in charge of that event, well, let's just say my enthusiasm was greatly diminished. When the coach suggested organizing one more tournament and sausage sizzle before the end of the year, I'm pretty sure I just growled. Fortunately my friend and fellow tennis committee sucker invited me to her house afterward for a cup of coffee, throat lozenges, a large aloe plant, and some beautiful cut flowers from the garden.

Sarabelle ended up girls' open and one half of the girls' doubles champ, and Grice and her partner were girls' doubles runners-up. Sarabelle will go down in history as the first girls' winner in the history of the club, her name engraved on a lovely plaque for ever and ever, amen.

Jorge missed all the festivities staying home to organize the storage room downstairs, the room where he and Elle found the four-foot, freshly-shed, venomous snake skin just outside the door. No sign of our visitor. I am not looking forward to digging through the suitcases when it's time to pack.


A little inaccuracy sometimes saves tons of explanation.

-- Saki [Hector Hugh Munro] The Square Egg