Tennis is the New Darts

What a way to start the day. Throw on a swimsuit and a Tshirt and hang out drinking coffee and sunning it up. Ah, divinity.

After spending about two hours doing nothing, we hit the tennis court.

I have never played tennis in my life. I've always feared the running back-and-forth part, and the hitting, and the potential balls in the face (special occasions only, ladies). In any case, today I learned.

Every time we go to the cottage, Dave invariably becomes a dart aficionado. Basically, it's the only thing to do there, but he's rather compulsive about it. He'll play for four or five hours straight, getting annoyed with his failings and claiming glorious victory for his perceived successes. It's truly insane, and he is nuts for it.

Well, tennis is the new darts. Only I am turning into Dave.

No kidding, we played for 1.5 hours this morning (in the burning sun), then another three this evening under the court night lights. It was so ridiculously fun. I went from completely terrible to passably mediocre, and I can't stop talking about it. I can't wait to go back tomorrow. I referred to our vacation as tennis camp.

Here's me after the morning's round, red-faced and disgusting, but claiming glorious victory just the same.

Oh yeah, baby. It was that good.