hmmmmmmmph

Was she sad? Or angry? Maybe it was a combination of both along with a good sprinkling of upset, thoughtful, analytical and so much more. Why did she feel so every time? Why did she get her hopes up? Why did she think that this time was it, this time he would pull through. Somehow.

The first two sets flew by but he somehow managed to squeak out the 3rd. Serving behind in the 4th, she knew that it wasn't going to be easy. And it went exactly how she thought. One break was all it took.

Truth be told, the far better player won. As a Federer fan, she found it very hard to even acknowledge that. When she first began to watch him, she always wondered at how amazing he was and how no one would ever be able to get to where he was. He was even more stylish than her childhood hero Sampras!

The truth hurt but one thing was for sure. Not many will come along who will play like him. That cracker of a serve down the T, the scintillating single-handed backhand down the line passing shot, that unforgettable forehand drive volley and those lucky-to-bounce even once drop shots, and that genial nature--memorable beyond memory.

The Djoker had the last laugh today. Well, he's been laughing for some time now and that annoyed her to no end. It seemed like a long time since their first meeting at a Grand Slam final and it took Fed all of 1.5 hours to finish him off. But today she had to admit that her dislike for him was only because he had routinely been taking Federer to school.

Someone asked her why he didn't retire and she wanted to scream and say, "Why should he when he's easily making the semis of a Grand Slam?" but she held back and said, "Maybe this year", while she thought, "Nah, there will be one more time."

Growing (up) pains - Part two

Protagonist: "Ma, I want a hair style like that guy."
Uncool mom: *stares at the pic of a guy with long weird hair* "Who is that?"
Protagonist: "He's in One Direction."
Uncool mom: *blinks stupidly* "What's his name?"
Protagonist: "Harry Styles"
Uncool mom: *thinks she's being funny* "Shouldn't it be Hairy Styles or Scary Styles?"
Protagonist:  "That's not funny, ma. He looks so cool! I want to grow my hair like that!"
Uncool mom: *horrified at what is going to come next* "What?!"
Protagonist: "Is there a way to write to them? I want to join their band!"
Uncool mom: *trying to appeal to his senses* "You know you can start your own band since you play the violin and others you know play the piano and drums?"
Protagonist: "Really? But I just want to join One Direction. Can I write to them now?"
Uncool mom: *not sure whether to laugh or pretend to be serious* "Sure, I'll check for their id."
Protagonist: runs off to the partner in crime saying "Guess what, I'm going to write to One Direction and join their band!", completely unfazed by the lukewarm response, "They're not going to take you."

As I recounted this story to a friend, she said that his joining will make them a better band for sure since they stunk at the moment. I thought "My God, it's his first band crush and it's One Direction! How horrible!", and then realised that's how my parents probably felt when I told them that I loved Wham and George Michael!

Yep, it all comes around...and how! I wrote Part one in 2011--another lifetime it seems like. Needless to say, my two cute whisperers have only grown up even more since.

Who said only tweens and teens felt growing pains!