fragments of memory

Or rather, #UNSTOPPAB13, as they're saying on Tumblr.

I'll never be a fan of these Monday finals, but watching the scores at work while dealing with work-related chaos was made much more bearable thanks to niennah's frequent updates re: wardrobe, vamosing, and overall body language.

A+, would do again.

I went tubing down the Salt River with some friends yesterday, and we ended up meeting a couple of guys, which is the last thing I expected on the river. But I was agreeable to the whole thing, especially since I spent two hours floating alongside a pretty passable Rafael Nadal lookalike boy who was sweet and had a cute name, and we talked and talked and talked about our families, his HS football career, my love for the SF Giants, bucket lists, being out on the water, bird dogs—so many things. He was beautiful, and Cali boy was officially in the rearview. When we beached our tubes and got out at the end of the line, he hugged me...and then he left.







...I am so confused.

In other news, I've been watching a lot of Olympic coverage, and while my head's all about it, my heart's not in it. I was so looking forward to watching Rafa; I still haven't quite gotten past that disappointment. And the swimming (which used to be my fave, pre-Beijing) is so Phelps/Lochte focused (and I have little patience for either of them) that I can barely stand to watch. I miss the days of Ian Thorpe dominating the 400m free, and narrowly winning the 200m free with Pieter van den Hoogenband unzipping his suit for him at the end of the race, and Michael Phelps the gawky upstart who posed no real threat, only served as idle amusement and occasional partner in fic.

I'm trying to avoid a complete "damn kids, get off my lawn" attitude, but, you know, I think the Olympics were better with Ian and Rafa involved.

( A brief trip down memory lane, mostly Athens with a quick stopover in Beijing. )

This was basically me after that match. After I was done having a stroke and crying, of course. Getting stuck watching the first set and a half at work was a new and curious form of torture. I tried to behave normally but that all went out the window after the first game. How many years do you suppose we're shaving off our lives, getting so stressed and flustered over tennis?

But it was worth it, in the end. So happy for Rafa <3. This tournament reminded me of all the reasons why I adore him. We witnessed a player at the height of his powers. Stunning to watch.

Sunday had set up to be an epic day in sports, with the US Open final, Tim pitching against San Diego, and the Cardinals vs. the Rams, all at the exact same time. The tennis postponement helped make the situation more manageable, so I flipped erratically between baseball and football for a couple of hours.

Tim <3.



Amazing again, with two RBIs, even—a sight unseen in many an age. Awesome.

I only saw bits and pieces of the Cardinals, and they were vaguely disastrous most of the time, but Larry scored a touchdown (win) and Arizona beat the Rams (clearly a win).

Not a bad 48 hours in sports <3

I was up in the Oregon countryside last weekend, getting wet in the rain and eating a lot, and blissfully separated from my computer. Consequently, I never got around to making a "Woe is me" Phoenix Suns post, but by the time I got back Steve was cryptically tweeting about "moving on", so I suppose I will too, and focus instead on Rafa, the serve-and-volley claycourt master, and hope he beats Soderling on Sunday. Otherwise, I will probably end up buying questionable mixed-media art at the Swap Meet, making a sick bed on the couch, and eating ice cream for hours while watching an "Ice Road Truckers" marathon like I did last year.

Had a little glitch with the power cord for my laptop last night. It didn't appear to be supplying any power—clearly a problem—and additionally, it was stuck in the computer. So I took it into the Genius Bar after work, where several different techs puzzled over the situation and told me I might have to contact some obscure company to order parts for my "vintage" Mac, since Apple no longer has parts for dinosaurs, and it might take forever to fix, and I was having a minor panic attack about all this. Then they took my laptop into the back, fiddled with it, and brought it back out five minutes later with the cord successfully removed. The tech plugged in one of their cords at the store, and it worked like a charm again. So, a brand new cord (my fourth for this single Mac alone) and we're back in business. I have all my fics, all my photos, and it ended up being the best day.

I finished off the best day by having a little sushi and wine with some friends, then went to see Sex and the City 2, which is a terrible movie—and yet I enjoyed it.

Tomorrow is a barbeque extravaganza about half an hour north of the city. There will be hayrides and Rocky Mountain oysters, and hopefully some cooler weather.

Not sure if it's worth getting up early for the women's final.

I thought I was reading the scores wrong. I must've reread them 39 times, but I was not misreading them.

I coped by going to the swap meet and spending way too much money on a metallic mixed-media sculpture/painting of a school of sardines. Then I came back to the condo and made a sickbed on the couch with pillows and blankets and ate homemade raspberry ice cream as I contemplated the awfulness of Rafa's match and the impossibility of finding a logical place to display my new piece of marine artwork. The sardines, leaning against the wall in the corner, seemed to be mocking me.

So I took a shower and put on my glasses and then watched far too many episodes of "Ice Road Truckers" and "Law & Order" and tried to pretend none of it was happening.

I'm beginning to get over it, but...

Ugh. This is an awful thing. I think I was just sort of taking it for granted, you know?

Firstly, Rafa:


<3 <3 <3

I am so happy he won today. I told myself I wasn't going to worry about it either way (everything after Wimbledon 2008 is icing on the cake), but of course once he started playing I got caught up in it and emotional as usual. I also thought this was an important week for Rafa, brushing aside all challengers and winning emphatically.

After the match, I renewed my Phoenix Suns tickets. I was a little nauseated by it; it's a lot of money to pay for something that likely will just drive me insane with frustration. But in the end, I had to do it. Ride or die, right?

Today is also the first day I've felt normal since donating blood on Thursday. It's been kind of bizarre; I never had issues like this before. I'd get a little crazy and woozy during the process itself, but I'd be fine afterwards. Not so this time. I spent the entire day following the donation in a stupor, utterly exhausted. I was still tired the second day, too, so I waited until Saturday to resume running. It was a strange, disoriented run, but I managed a normal distance. Everything seems fine today; went to the gym and had a good workout, and chatted with a random guy in a Roger Federer hat, the first RF hat I've ever come across in RL :D

( Random Larry picspam. Is it August yet? )

\o/

What a player. I don't even have words. I can't even type, I'm shaking so badly.

Last year, when Rafa lost in the US Open, with the falling down on the court and the tape tattered and fluttering around his knees, I was so devastated that I couldn't sleep for the first night and I felt physically ill for days. But this year is so different. After the French, and Wimbledon, and the Olympics, I don't feel like I have any right to feel bad about this. And so, I don't. (He won Wimbledon! He fucking won Wimbledon, and in so doing fulfilled his dreams and granted my dearest sports wish, and I told myself at the time that anything else Rafa accomplished this year would just be the icing on the cake. And it has been.)

And besides, Murray played so well, and he deserves it. I just hope he gives Roger a run for his money tomorrow. It's always irritating when someone plays a transcendent match to beat Rafa and then flames out spectacularly in the next round.

For all the Brits on my flist, you have my sympathy. I'm sure the press is going nuts right about now.

---

I've been training Simon a little bit, and he just mastered the "sit" command. I'm kind of proud, I have to admit :D I'm not sure what good will come of this skill, but he has it nonetheless. Unfortunately I didn't realize that I needed to train him not to destroy the canna lily that I brought inside from the balcony yesterday. I woke up to a hot mess of potting soil in the kitchen, and I'm pretty sure the plant has had it. But I replanted it and I'm hoping for the best. I'm a bit attached to my plants and I'd hate to see this one die as it was particularly lovely before it started getting fried to a crisp in the summer sun.

We've had so much rain the past few days, it's completely disorienting. I went to the artwalk in Scottsdale on Thursday, and it rained and rained and rained, all evening long. I got soaked walking from gallery to gallery, and there were photographers taking my picture for the local magazines and it just wasn't good, really. But there was an artist on one corner with a cart set up beneath an enormous umbrella, selling buttons with little fragments of text printed on them. They were lovely, and I bought a few.

After the galleries, I had a late dinner with some friends. We were a very international group that night—it was myself, another American, two Germans, a Swiss, and a Spaniard (but not Roger and Rafa, alas). Between the rain, the accents, and the fact that I was taking public transportation for only the second time in the 17 years I've lived in this city, it really didn't feel like I was in Phoenix anymore.

It rained again yesterday, a typically violent summer monsoon. I had to move my car because the street where I had parked it was flooded with nearly a foot of water. All that water evaporated today and the humidity was awful. I've been working in my mom's garage, refinishing a dining room table for my new place, and it's just gross being outside like that. I'm looking forward to completing the project so that I can remain inside during the evenings!

So anyway, I'm still glowing from Rafa's win. I didn't post about it much in the days and weeks leading up to the final; to be honest, I was terrified of jinxing him—I'm fairly superstitious when it comes to sports. It seemed to work, anyhow, and now it's kind of a funny feeling that I'm left with. Between Wimbledon '06 and '07, and the entire history of the Phoenix Suns franchise, I'm accustomed to heartbreak. And now suddenly Rafa's done it, done this thing that—aside from certain things that could happen directly in my own life—I've wanted most in the world, and I don't know what to do! It's a wonderful thing, but very unfamiliar, this sports-related happiness.

(Did anyone else get a funny feeling when they saw Rafa in one of his interviews, arm bandaged with gauze where they drew his blood after the match? Maybe it's just me, but it was a funny feeling and I was a bit unsettled by it.)

Meanwhile, I've found myself reading copious amounts of football (aka soccer) slash over the past couple of weeks. It's odd—I had such disdain for Fernando Torres during the entirety of Euro 2008. I couldn't stand him. And suddenly something changed and now I'm enamored with him and it's just silly, I don't want it—but what can you do? Sometimes it feels like the boy chooses you, and not the other way around.