Today, for the first time in…let’s not even try to go there but finish the sentence with, many years, I played tennis. Our family went to a very nice tennis court only minutes away from where we live, formed teams and began to play. Mind you, we skipped the stretching part or any of the warming up, because that’s for sissies:) In our own eyes, we played like champions and within minutes felt the weight of the gold metals around our necks, enjoying the imaginary cheers coming from the imaginary audience near by too flabbergasted by such an incredible performance.

I pulled a muscle, but what’s a champion without its injuries? We came, we fought, we conquered.

At home, I pulled out of the freezer a bag of vegetables and happily attached it to my upper thigh where the muscles screamed like a toddler who skipped its nap. But I had a smile on my face. This injury made sense to me. I’ve earned this injury fair and square and was very proud of it. I hurt because I lived. Not some stupid bug biting me and nearly killing me then turning me into a walking zombie for years. Noooo, my friends, this was the kind of injury you get because you live, and you have fun living. And I plan to do it again:) My muscle sores have sores, that’s how I feel now, but I smile and keep on tapping this keyboard because I played a match of tennis with my family and we had a fantastic time doing it.

I hope you get a chance to enjoy life in your own way and keep cool this week because real summer has finally arrived in Pacific Northwest.

God bless:)