August, too, is winding down. Tomorrow the Minnesota State Fair begins, pigs and all, and well over a million visits will occur to the fairgrounds on Snelling Avenue by the end of the day on Labor Day. The powers that be have decided to ignore the swine flu outbreak taking place in the USA and allow the appearance there of the state's largest pig and others of assorted smaller sizes. They have made provisions for places to wash your hands when leaving the hog barn. The virus, I am informed by my favorite radio station, is transmitted though the air. I think I'll be avoiding the livestock area, and perhaps the entire Minnesota Get Together.
It was a scheduled tennis day today. Four of us older gentlemen showed up at the appointed time. It had just begun to rain. We considered our options and decided to go to Caribou Coffee to wait for a break in the drizzle. A break that came too late to be able to go back and play, so we rescheduled for Friday. The geezers are experiencing a series of injuries that seems to be keeping a few of the regulars out of action for a while. A groin pull and a rotator cuff injury requiring an MRI are the most serious of the maladies, but I realize that this is the sort of problem that will continue as these aging athletes try to keep on keeping on into their seventies.
The photo of the day is a vine covered wall that stands next to Minnehaha Falls Park in Minneapolis. I took it a couple of days ago when I walked in a different part of the park than normal. I like a little variety in my exercise regime.
2 comments:
"Pigs" means something different here than the four legged, snout nosed mammal that most people recognize by that name. Made me smile.
Gino and I were discussing your age this past week -- we're both decent with numbers, and got it right. We were sort of stunned that you are facing a new decade. On a related note, my grandchildren expressed the opinion that I am the oldest of the three of us. I don't know if that gives you any comfort or not.
I doubt you'll give up tennis. Wind down is a possibility, though. Much like Paul. Maybe you can coach some kids summer tennis program on the range, or something.
The new decade thing does seem unworldly, and some sort of perverse fiction. But I guess it's true.
Your grandkids confusion about our relative ages is understandable. There really isn't that much difference in our ages, especially for people more than 50 years younger than we are. I take more comfort in a well struck crosscourt forehand winner.
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