No, this time it’s not me. It’s Jean on the injured reserve list, again, with the same leg injury. We thought we were being careful, and we don’t chase after balls we can’t get to on the pickleball courts, but yesterday was an exception. It’s been chilly down here lately. OK, OK, I know it’s a whole lot warmer than Michigan, but it’s chilly when you don’t have the clothes for it. We haven’t been playing much pickleball, but we’ve been hitting balls back and forth, without chasing hard to get shots.
We went down yesterday morning and no one was there at 9, when we usually start. It was chilly, so everyone was waiting until 10 I guess. We hit some shots back and forth until one of the players came. We still hit a few back and forth warming up, and then played a 2 on 1 game (pickleball…get your minds out of the gutter) until a fourth showed up. So we had warmed up by riding down there (no…I couldn’t keep up with Jean…she was riding faster to get there sooner), had warmed up between the two of us, had played a laid back 2 on 1 game, and then started playing for real. So it’s not like we weren’t stretched out.
Jean and I played together and Donna and Doug were our opponents. We were outmatched, but were holding our own. Jean went for a shot that she missed (not a real stretch so it seemed innocent enough), and I backed her up and hit the shot back to Doug. He returned the volley and Jean didn’t even try for it. I was thinking, “What are you doing?”, but didn’t say it. It was then I realized that she had torn the muscle she had pulled a couple of weeks ago. The one a couple of weeks ago was a sore, knotted muscle. This one was a bad enough tear that she couldn’t ride her bike back home. So now she’s gimping around the house and laying by the pool. Maybe she should learn to crochet and I should take up on-line poker.
I went into town this morning to pick up some cereal for me, and some much needed popcorn for Jean. By the way…the microwave here has a turntable that doesn’t turn. So when Jean makes popcorn, only about half of it pops. I’m guessing old Orville Redenbacher is laughing in his grave. It’s one way to double sales. But I’ve digressed. What I was really trying to say, I drove back through the development from the South end to see what homes are for sale. As I came back to the North Course, I saw two North American River Otters playing around and chasing fish in one of the ponds on the golf course. Later, riding my bike in and out of every street in the development, I saw an Armadillo. I’m sure everyone else gets used to seeing them, but I’m still intrigued by animals, and especially fascinated by ones we don’t see much in Michigan.
I’m off my diet until after the first of the year. It’s obvious to me that I need to get back to counting calories. I’m not eating like it was my last meal on earth, but if I keep it up, maybe it will be. Aunt Sharon sent back some cookies with Jean and I this past Sunday. We needed some for when the kids come later this week, so we got two plates. I said that was enough, but we were going to a pickleball group open house on Sunday afternoon, so we got another plate. When we got home, we found out that we were to bring nothing, so we didn’t take them. As it turned out, they had hors d’oeuvres, but nothing sweet, so we should have taken the cookies. Long story short…I’ve been getting into the extra plate of cookies, using the logic that we had them for the open house and, since we didn’t take them, three plates would be too many for Rocky, Nina, Robert and Danielle. So it’s Jack to the rescue. Why don’t I just have them implanted on my waistline and save the trouble of chewing and digestion?
Just (Not A Very Good Nursemaid For Jean But She Doesn’t Expect Me To Be) Jack