V-Day

As regular readers of this blog are doubtless aware, Tuesday is my usual day off and yesterday started off as a day off. Ambitiously, I awoke in the pre dawn hours, threw on my ski clothes and drove two hours north to get to Hunter Mountain just as it opened. Despite the incredible amounts of snow that had fallen here in the city, Hunter only got 3-4 inches according to friendly fellow skier who I took the chair lift with me. Still, the additional snow made the conditions much better than last week, although there was a bit too much ice for the conditions to be described as “great.”

So there I was, having moved to the West side of the mountain to try my luck on the double blacks when my cell phone rang, then rang again. Mildly worried, I checked my messages to discover one of my fellow teaching pros had broken his pinkie last night playing tennis. Yes, you read that sentence correctly. While hitting a two handed backhand, his left pinkie had caught his pant’s pocket which had been stuffed with balls and that was all she wrote.

Me, being the dutiful tennis Pro, and in need of some brownie points at the club, skied down the mountain one last time before hopping in the my car and driving South towards Waldwick, stopping once for a Super Roast Beef sandwich from Arbys and Curly Fries of course, both of which were just as delicious as I remember from my college days, though a bit more expansive.

Now, I hadn’t brought any of my tennis stuff with me, it was day off after all and I was skiing, so I had to steal (borrow) some work out clothes from my brother, (Ridgewood Ice Hockey Warm up pants and a UVM Sweatshirt, and then trade shoes with the injured tennis pro. I got his tennis shoes; he got my boots to wear home. The club desk workers, who occasionally double as our “work moms” thought the switching of the shoes was one part adorable, one part gross.

So, I taught his lessons for the rest of the day, 2:30 to 8. The junior clinic on Tuesday is the same as Wednesday and a piece of cake for the most part, with the exception being a few “special kids,” well mostly just one, who is parents must be grateful for the opportunity to drop on us for an hour and a half a week. But teaching someone else’s privates is always a challenge. Sometimes it’s great, if the kid knows what he wants and knows me enough to trust me to give him or her good advice. But if the kid is accustomed to another Pro giving advice, then I have to tread a thin line between trying to help the kid with his strokes, and giving potentially conflicting advice from the kid’s usual Pro. As for yesterday, one lesson went very well, the kid was hitting better by the end, and other, well, although I thought she was hitting better by the end she didn’t seem to notice or care, and was extremely frustrated. So it’s a mixed bag.

Anyway, that was my Valentines Day. One funny thing, not being in college anymore, I wasn’t deluged by V-Day (read Vagina Day) protests, marches and rallies by campus feminists. I wonder if that stuff still goes on. At Kenyon College at least, you can’t miss it, which kidding aside is a good thing, but out in the “real world,” I at least, didn’t hear a peep. That allows me to go back to disliking Valentines Day for all the right reasons, namely that everyone else seems to be in love and I’m not. That’s supposed to be a little joke, I hope you chuckled.

Fairly Average Day

But I'm going to blog anyway. My apologies if this post isn't particularly interesting, but I've gotten numerous complaints about my lack of posting, that I figured a boring blog is better than no blog. Maybe?

So its almost one clock. I'm feeling pretty good about myself because I'm just about finished with a long awaited second draft of a short story. It's currently entitled, "The Last Night," but could surely use a more intriguing name. It's my first stab in writing a unreliable narrator and the story details the relationship between Matt, the narrator, and the love of his life Diana who he sees as perfect, but you can tell is far from it. The little twist is that the night Diana and Matt finally get together, she dies in a car accident. Now, he must deal with her death as well as their complicated history together. I think its a good little story, but I'm mostly glad to be that much closer to be done, so I can start revising some of my other first drafts.

In other news, a big snow storm appears to be headed for New York City. Its possible eight inches might fall Saturday night, which could lead to a very distraught Brendan trying to shovel out his car in time for his early tennis lessons Sunday morning. I may feel discretion to be the greater part of valor and let my car and myself spend the night at mom's house in New Jersey.

Dinner and a (Super)model

Went out to dinner two nights ago with three good friend from college to a wonderful Moroccan place in the East Village called Cafe Morador. The food was delicious, the company superb, but what was I talking about at the watercooler yesterday? The possibility that this beautiful woman was standing a mere three feet away at the bar during dinner of course.

The last ten minutes consisted of us audibly wondering why it was taking so long for them to take our money and Bob and I arguing whether this woman really was a Sports Illustrated Supermodel or simply an incredibly beautiful woman. I was unsure, but was leaning towards the latter. Bob seemed fairly convinced. Our female dining companions had no point of reference, so that night I sent them this link. They are ambivalent. Points in favor of the woman being the Yamila Diaz: she looked like her, big lips, two european companions. Points against: not particularly tall, european companions not all that attractive.

Bob had a much better vantage point and really couldn't help looking at her for much of the evening. I could only steal glances as we were getting ready to leave, but she still totally saw me staring at her. I imagine she is used to it. And Yamila, if you occasionally google your name and find this blog, I would love to take you out to dinner sometime ;) seriously.