horizon_greene: Robert Smith singing (melbourne)
For the first time ever, I experienced positive feelings towards Roger Federer during this tournament. I even felt vaguely disappointed when he lost in the semis.

I was sad but not devastated to see Rafa lose. The guy won three majors last year, got the Career Slam. So, I mean. I'm good. I just hope he's okay, physically.

Now I'm rooting for Djokovic to win a second Australian Open. It's as if my world has been turned upside down.

Is anyone else awake and watching this match? Bueller? Who are you rooting for?
horizon_greene: Robert Smith singing (song)
I'm perturbed about tennis right now. Very perturbed. I'm pretty superstitious and now I basically regret writing "Clarity" back in 2008, where I babbled away about Roger winning the French Open in 2009 and Rafa succumbing to debilitating knee injuries and so on. Good job, me.

Most people (myself included) believe that Kurt Warner is going to announce his retirement at this little press conference thingy he's got scheduled for Friday. And that's just depressing, there's not much else I can say about it.

Also, the Phoenix Suns. WTF are they doing, I don't even understand what I've been watching.

It was only a year ago that Rafa was on the cusp on winning three of the four Slams and the Cardinals were in the Super Bowl. How quickly things change.

So I'm a bit dismayed by sports right now. I'm going to the Suns/Mavs game tomorrow, and I will probably need a drink, except guess what? I'm in day 4 of this week-long cleanse/detox that I read about in a random copy of Glamour magazine, of all places: no salt, no added sugar, no processed foods, no wheat, no alcohol, no caffeine, no dairy (except for yogurt), no saturated fat. It hasn't been too horrific; it forces me to be creative about cooking and I've been eating fun stuff like hummus, spicy shrimp with red cabbage slaw, and (modified) chicken tikka masala. I really miss salt, though, and I'll be glad when this is over. I don't believe in dieting and I'm not even sure why I'm doing this, exactly, except maybe to prove to myself that I can.

That's valid, right?
horizon_greene: Robert Smith singing (melbourne)
I love quiet, unplanned weekends every now and then. I did a little writing, a lot of running, had lunch with the fam on Saturday, did some cleaning and cooking. And slept. I'm not very good at sleeping these days, so I tried to make it a priority.

I cleaned out Simon's litterbox this afternoon, under his careful supervision. Usually, the moment I get the fresh litter in the box, he rushes over and clambers in and starts to pee while I fumble to try to put the lid on over the top of him, but he managed to restrain himself today. He did actively help me change the sheets later, and ended up trapped beneath layers of blankets for about 20 minutes. He's now curled at the foot of the bed, exhausted from his domestic efforts.

Last night I broke in my brand new Wusthof Classic chef's knife by making gazpacho. Chopping a cucumber has never been more exhilarating. Today I tried a new recipe for pulled pork tacos, and they are awesome. I'll be making them again for my first Cardinals party in a couple of weeks.

Speaking of the Cards, I watched their preseason game against San Diego on Saturday. I realize that it's only the preseason, but...Jesus Christ. Watching Larry get helicoptered in the end zone as the ball is intercepted right out of his hands is not what I want to see. Hot. Mess.

BTW, I think—think—it might be starting to cool down, just a little. I sense something in the air. I can't wait for fall, for so many reasons, football amongst them. But I also really want to replant my herb garden. This summer has been brutal, and about half of my herbs died (only the basil, chives, and rosemary are hanging on) as well as one of my canna lilies. In some ways, I miss my old apartment. The balcony there—with its northern exposure and abundant shade—was far more conducive to growing things.

Oh, and of course I watched tennis, and tried not to let it bother me.

Flist, what did you do this weekend?
horizon_greene: Robert Smith singing (paris)
Somehow I just agreed to pet-sit Vinny, my friend's 25 lb. cat, for the next eight days. I don't quite know how this came about, but I've turned the guest bedroom into makeshift cat quarters (I will need to keep Vinny and Simon separated while I'm at work, at least for the first couple of days) and I'm hoping for the best.

Last night, I had a dream that Roger lost the French Open in straight sets. The scoreline was totally wacky, 9-6 in the third, which made no sense whatsoever. I woke up, restless and upset, and turned on the tv to see that Roger was two games from the title. I know I said I wasn't planning to watch, but in the end I couldn't stay away. I do love tennis, no matter how I feel about the final.

It's good for the game, Roger winning :) And he earned those tears, and the celebration. I turned it off a minute or two after the championship point, though. I don't begrudge Roger his win in any way; I'm just a little miserable, still, that it wasn't Rafa falling to his knees on the clay today.

Anyway, [livejournal.com profile] buckle_berry, I made sure that I never actively rooted for Roger at any point during this tournament. You're welcome :D

Back.

Apr. 1st, 2009 11:34 pm
horizon_greene: Robert Smith singing (super bowl)
I made it safely back to Arizona. It's good to be home, but I miss Florida—I miss the humidity, of all things. When I was younger I couldn't stand it, but now I really appreciate what it does for your skin.

I will post pictures later, but for now, let me regale you with stories of shopping at the outlet mall in Sarasota. It's nothing like the outlets in Phoenix, by which I mean that there are actually stores that are useful and in which I'm willing to spend money. I bought this dutch oven at Le Creuset; I've wanted one forever, but couldn't bring myself to pull the trigger until the salesman offered to discount it a further 15% on top of the already reduced price. It probably wasn't my best-laid plan, buying a huge, heavy piece of cast iron when I was thousands of miles from home, but given the fact that I stood to save over $150, I couldn't refuse.

I also bought a wallet at Kate Spade; ordinarily I would never spend money on a designer wallet, but it was deeply discounted because of some apparent flaw (which I could not detect after careful inspection), and besides, my existing wallet is a hot mess with broken zippers that's prone to jettison my credit cards/library cards/AAA card/etc. every time I open it, so I figured it was time to upgrade. There's no sense in hanging on to a wallet that doesn't perform its intended function. It was also becoming a bit lame, losing all my cards in the depths of my purse, or having them spill out onto the counter whenever I tried to pay for something.

Randomly, I also bought a leopard-print cardigan. I have never owned anything with an animal print in my life, but this pattern is very subtle, done in pale neutral tones. And also, it's a cardigan, so, you know, it's classy ;) I think.

It's so late, but I'm staying up watching the replay of Federer/Roddick. I don't know why I bother; it's always the same old story. And yet, I watch. Tennis <3
horizon_greene: Robert Smith singing (heart)
I never thought I'd come across tennis fandom in [livejournal.com profile] fanficrants, and yet there it is. Pretty valid rant, too, although I'm not particularly fond of the generally anti-RPS/RPF feel to that comm.

I have to say I had no idea people were going all crazy on Mirka; I haven't read any tennis slash in a little while, certainly nothing since the big announcement. Clearly I'm out of the loop (as I was for the announcement itself, incidentally).

---

There's a gentleman at the farmers market who sells organic, grass-fed beef. He's gorgeous, tall with dark hair, and would be very much my type, except that he's a cowboy—or at the very least, dresses like one. (Which might be worse, actually.) My dad's side of the family is full of cowboys, and I've gone riding, and been there for the branding, and the castrating, and the feeding in winter. And it's fine; it is what it is. But it means that I don't have that romantic notion of cowboys, so while my friends are all fluttery for this guy, I'm totally neutral on it. Mostly.

Anyway, I've long wanted to talk to him about his meat, as it were, but I'm usually a mess on Saturday mornings and don't have my game face on. Last Saturday was no exception—I had the previous night's Rocky Horror Picture Show hair still going on, I was wearing the most haphazard outfit, and I was weighted down with multiple bags of vegetables. But I was like, fuck it, and bought two pounds of chuck roast. He was very charming.

In keeping with my theme of interacting with good-looking men while looking like a hot mess myself, I was taking out the trash on Sunday morning when I ran into one of my neighbors. I'd never met him—never even seen him before—and my hair was twisted up into a crazy knot with huge chunks sticking out of one side, I was in my gym clothes, and I was carrying a bag of used cat litter. And he smiled and said hello and looked beautiful; and I said hi, threw the bag of cat litter in the dumpster, and scurried back inside. It was a really great first impression. Oh well, I'm not sure how you recover when you're carrying around a bag of cat litter.

Went on the greatest run tonight, btw—I'm back to my usual distance, and that's a wonderful thing. My legs are pleasantly sore right now, and I love that feeling :)

Dream

Mar. 8th, 2009 09:15 am
horizon_greene: Robert Smith singing (cradle)
I had an odd dream last night. I dreamed that I was riding the light rail with Larry Fitzgerald and Anquan Boldin—and my dad and my sister. So I'm trying to whore it up with Larry and/or Anquan, while at the same time trying to be responsible for my family's well-being. My dad is from a small town, and to this day I don't think he's been on any type of public transportation. So I had to constantly remind him, "Dad, when the train starts moving, you need to hold onto something or you will go flying."

Ironically, I was far more interested in Anquan than I was in Larry. I wouldn't have expected that.

At some point we ended up in the snow, which is weird because this is Phoenix, and snow just doesn't happen here. The five of us got off the light rail and boarded an RV—sort of an old, musty-smelling one. My dad started driving us around; I don't really remember where we were going, if it was even clear at the time.

I'm not sure what it all means. Sort of a strange dream, being constantly cock-blocked by your family.

---

Also, I'm so pleased that Rafa beat Djokovic today :) I was a tiny bit worried, but clearly I didn't need to be. He handled his business magnificently. I just wish I could've watched. All we get here is USA/Switzerland, which—given Roger's absence—is not even particularly compelling, and made even less so by the fact that Ted Robinson and Justin Gimelstob are calling the matches. How is Gimelstob even still employed? I despise the guy—and not only that, he's terrible at his job too.

Anyway, off to the gym.

Things.

Oct. 15th, 2008 10:46 pm
horizon_greene: Robert Smith singing (rafa & roger - ashe day)
I turned off the air conditioning today for the first time. It is a glorious thing to open the windows and feel cool air. I'd forgotten what it was like.

I'm watching the replay of Federer/Stepanek right now. I read the David Foster Wallace article on Federer written for the New York Times in 2006, and the writing itself was so profound that I figure it might be interesting to watch him play with the remnants of DFW's words coloring my impression.

In theory, I should love Roger. He should be my favorite, with his ballet dancer movement, his precision, his artistry. But although I like the idea of Roger, and I love what he means to and for Rafa (and vice versa), I just don't like him, and I don't know why. There's no passion, no intensity of positive feeling. I appreciate him, I marvel at him, but in the end I still delight in seeing him fall, and I can't explain it.

I sort of wish Stepanek had forced a third set today.

Randomly, one of the analysts on the Tennis Channel sounds like Orlando Bloom.

---

Reading something that was posted earlier on one of the comms, I realized that Ringo Starr is nearly 70 years old. Christ, the surviving Beatles are almost in their 70s. I can't even get my mind around that.




Btw car did not start today. Again. Took four tries to get it going. *tears out hair* Must get a new one, clearly. Or possibly just a new mechanic.
horizon_greene: Robert Smith singing (feels like flying)
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.
horizon_greene: Robert Smith singing (aussie sun)
I have to admit that I really enjoyed the Cincy final today. I'm no fan of Djokovic whatsoever, and I'm lukewarm on Murray, but they played a great match. The tiniest part of me still wanted Rafa to be in the final, and of course I love Rafa's game, but there was something beautiful about all those flat, crisply-struck balls. It was fun to watch.

Anyway, Rafa will be number 1 in the world on August 18th, and I'm so pleased that I think I could watch anything with a certain amount of happiness today, even Djokovic.

Oh, and I suppose it's worth mentioning that I went to PBR (Professional Bull Riding) on Saturday night. It started out as a joke between a friend and I some months ago, but somehow it became reality and an entire group of us went. I've been to plenty of rodeos over the years, as my dad's side of the family is primarily of the farming/ranching variety, but this was the first time I'd gone to PBR and it was quite the spectacle. There were strobe lights, huge tv screens, a pyrotechnics display, fire-breathing bull heads, and an amazing sountrack to accompany it all. And of course there was the bull riding itself, which was kind of mediocre when compared to the stuff I'd seen at local Colorado rodeos, but there were a couple of great rides and it turned out to be a pretty nice Saturday night, actually. Anything that involves beer, hot dogs, and a pamphlet to order bull semen can't be half-bad, you know?
horizon_greene: Robert Smith singing (fire)
I'm watching Yankees/Mets right now; the more I watch baseball (which admittedly, isn't much), the more I realize I don't understand. I mean, I understand the game generally, and can tell the difference between a ball and a strike, and I know what a DH is (although I still don't fully understand how that whole thing works in interleague play), and so on and so forth, but there are a lot of little things that I just don't know. I suppose that the more you watch, the more you learn, but I struggle to muster the enthusiasm to watch consistently. I don't know why—especially since I love postseason baseball.

Transitioning to a sport that I more fully understand, today was the Hamburg final: Federer/Nadal XVI. )

After a weekend of tennis and house-hunting, I'm very happy—if a bit worn out and sleep-deprived.

ETA: I've had ESPN on all evening, and in a shocking but welcome development, SportsCenter not only had a decent recap of the match (it's amazing how much more impressive tennis is when you can actually see the ball), but one of Nadal's backhand volleys made Top Ten Plays :D

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