Tennis anyone?

So, as the intro to this blog promises, it's all about things I've done "after"...  One of the things I've done is "take up" tennis.  For years, I sneered and said that if G*d had meant me to run around in the sun, chasing fuzzy green spheres, (s)he would have made me tall and blonde and Australian.  (Don't know why I chose that list of attributes, but it made sense at the time.)  Anyway, as they said in one of those James Bond films, never say never...  My husband has been batting around the tennis ball for many years, and I started going to the local sports center about six months ago, and swatting the tennis ball there (the ball machine is a great invention), and I decided that this was pretty fun.  So, I signed up for group tennis lessons (adult, beginner level).  Our instructor is from somewhere in South America, and he's wonderful.  Very patient.  He says that we're not horrible.  The group is a wonderful Silicon Valley mix -- Indians, Chinese, Caucasians, all mixed in...  Some are good, some are not so good (that would be me), but we're all terribly enthusiastic.  It's a hoot.  I'm now on my third round of lessons, and it's not too bad.  I'm having a lot of fun, aside from the fact that the classes are at 8:00AM on Saturday mornings!  (That's basically against my religion to get up that early on weekends, but what are you going to do?)  

Anyway, I decided that, in my 60s, this "retirement" thing would definitely NOT involve me sitting on my keester.  I recall seeing a photo that my mom had taken, of her and my dad, and it was titled "x and x [don't want to use their real names -- privacy issues, you know], in retirement." [Emphasis mine...]  I have to tell you, that phrase, "in retirement", made my blood run cold.  Sounded vaguely like being put out to pasture, or going into seclusion, or some bloody darn thing.  Yuk.  I guess that us Baby Boomers really are re-defining what a particular age means.  (You know, like 40 is the new 30, and 50 is the new 40, and g*d only knows what 60 is now...)  Frankly, every time I look in the mirror, I'm astonished to see this person staring back at me, who's a dead ringer for my grandmother!  Yikes!  I loved her to death, but she was ancient!!!!  WTF????  I REALLY need to book that face-lift, truly...

So, I have this list of things I want to accomplish in this "life after" phase of my life; as follows:

1.  Sport (tennis; see above); in process.  

2.  Personal challenge -- scuba; in process.  (Due to a stupid practical joke pulled on me by my brain-dead cousins when I was about 10 or so -- throwing me out of a rowboat in the middle of a lake, when I could not swim, and I damn near died -- I have a deep-seated fear of the water.)  On our last trip to Hawaii, in February, I did jump off a dive boat, with snorkel gear on, and put my pasty white body into the Pacific Ocean.  (OK, I had enormous amounts of flotation gear on my body for most of the time, but I did it...)  I felt so macho about the whole thing, I decided that I would get myself certified for scuba.  (I mean, there are idiots all over the place who've done it, so why not me?)  

3.  Tattoo; not sure about that, but I'm thinking maybe yes.  Where? Somewhere it won't show with ordinary business clothes.  What?  Perhaps "Tai-Tai" (in Chinese characters), or a Hawaiian flower...  Must consult with The Princess (my daughter), who knows what's what with regard to tattoos.

4.  A little bit of "work" on the face.  Hmmm...  That comment is sure to cause an uproar among the ladies -- some think it's a total betrayal of what we marched for in the 60s, some think it's just fine.  I'm not talking a Joan Rivers botox episode, just something tasteful.  Still brooding on that.

5.  Getting the bod in better shape.  I'm trying.  (See tennis, above.)

6.  What else?  Definitely maybe no hot Latin lover.  I'm pretty content with the husband, thank you very much.  

7.  Reading those books I always swore I'd read, but never got around to.  Like, "War and Peace", or the works of Jane Austen, or whatever the heck that huge honkin' work by Proust is called.  Or, on the other hand, I could just continue to work my way through every trash novel ever written.  :-)

8.  Cleaning out my sewing room.  That ought to take a decade.  It looks like a bomb went off in there.  

What else?  Who knows.  Maybe get another doggie, although the cat (we call her Special Needs Kitty) would f'ing freak out.  (We "interviewed" a potential dog pet last week, and the cat disappeared for two days, and that was just seeing the dog through a glass door!)

Other than that, it's all a work in progress.  More to come.  I'm a very lucky lady, and am offering up prayers of thanks every day.  Even on the really really bad days.  And there have been a few of those, lord knows...

I am held up by the good thoughts of my friends, knowing that I am surrounded by people that love me.  Thank god.

Cheers!