Love All

Now that it’s finally getting warmer and the cherry trees are blossoming, Hope and I have taken to going out in the evenings to go do some activities.  I recently wrote about how painful our first evenings on the tennis courts went.

Hope assumed that her prowess in Wii Tennis would carry over onto the real courts. She was mistaken, and because I’m petty, I took no prisoners and beat the breaks off of her. I’ve been nursing tennis elbow ever since the second time on the courts and now pre-game with 800mgs of ibuprofen before every outing.

This week has been hellish. It’s been so bad that my insomnia slammed back, and I’m not good without at least 5.5 hours (preferably at least 6.5). But today I resolved that I needed to turn things around.

With a break in the April showers, Hope asked if we could hit the courts.  I popped my pills and off we went, but this time I started trash talking.

Oh yeah….

“You can call me Dr. Evil!” #yappyisbigglesworth

“Punks jump up to get beat down.” #brandnubian

“Mama said knock you out!” #LLCoolJishardashell

“You’re going to hit nothing but net, like you’re playing basketball.”

Hope was shocked. Hope was also amused and started chiming in with her own trash talk, which was so absurdly goofy that I can’t even string some of her crazy together.

Today we had legit volleys which made tennis actually fun and my hurting elbow totally worth it.

And today we kinda resolved to relish the opportunity to talk trash on the courts, while playing, while safe in ways that we can’t do when we’re fighting about real stuff.

Our trash talk made us laugh, allowed us to poke fun at each other and have a really fun evening.

On the walk back to the condo, we giggled about all the dumb stuff we said and how we were going to up our trash talk game before we play again.  I told her she really needed to listen to some classic hip hop as most of my disses were song lyrics. lol

Maybe we’re emerging from the latest downturn in our journey.  I hope so.

We don’t really keep score, and yet we enjoy bickering about who “won.” Over dinner, Hope admitted that we were probably tied.

I smiled.

Love-all.