Tuesday, September 9, 2008

FORE! You Mean Love?

During a temporary fit of insanity this past July, I signed up for tennis lessons with two of my school psych friends.

It was only $110 dollars for 6 lessons through the community college, and apparently the instructor is fabulous. Another school psych friend pays $50.00 per week for private lessons with him.

I was looking forward to it throughout most of the summer. My mom is letting me borrow a racket (she's an avid tennis player, I partially blame her for some of this madness) and my friend Mari bought me a cute little shirt for the first lesson for my birthday.

However, lessons start tomorrow and my enthusiasm has dwindled significantly. I can barely walk up a hill (seriously, from my pool to my apartment) without huffing and puffing. How in the world am I going to hit some balls without falling to the ground, crying? Plus, I think that my head thinks that my body can run faster than it really can and the last time I went into a full sprint (think Kickball season) I fell on my face. Running on actual land scares the crap out of me.

I know, I know, I've participated in organized sports before. Heck, I played adult kickball for most of last year. Unfortunately (and fortunately) half of my kickball career was spent with a Miller Lite in one hand, and I think the competition this time around may be a tiny bit more fierce.

I'm going to distract myself by looking up cute tennis outfits. I may fall on my face in the middle of the court, but at least I'll look cute.

* The title of this post is dedicated to my friend Mari. A few weeks ago, while discussing tennis, she told us that she can't wait to yell "Fore!" out on the court.

Ha, I asked her if she meant Love?

Ooops.

(I guess you had to be there).

3 comments:

Lori said...

Um.. how come your full text doesn't show up in my google reader? It makes me sad when I can't read your blog at school.

Annnnnd.. we need to do a little HH soon. I need some Ashley time.

How's life?

Ashley said...

I know!! We do.. life is okay. I'm so sick of my job. I should blog about it, but it's draining.

What time do you get out? Maybe we can meet up sometime next week.

Ashley said...

oh and the blog should be fixed on reader.