I'm watching Roger Federer warm up for his semifinal game. Today is the day that will set up the match I will be watching Sunday-- please, please, please, Federer and Nadal, play for us today as you always do, because I am still not tired of watching the two of you play this game so beautifully. (Denise is, though, so if you prefer her feelings to mine, then you can play poorly today.)
We'll be going downtown to see what kind of celebrating is going on there in just a little while, so I won't be watching tennis all day. The jury is still out regarding the fireworks later.
So we missed the parade this morning, because we were in Brownfield volunteering for the running club race today. The race director asked me to read out the winners of the awards (yikes!), and gave me the microphone. What a kind, trusting man. I stood on the tailgate of his pickup because, let's face it, I am probably the shortest member of the running club who is over 18. And possible the shortest over-15. After hearing names (including my own-- how hard is "Susan"?) being mangled at every race since we began, I read through the list to be sure I could pronounce them all (even going so far to ask one of my pals how to say her surname-- I've only ever used her first name). And, of course, the one I overlooked before starting is the one that tripped me up. Badly. In the second race, we had an out-of-towner entered whose name none of us knew, so I tried it a couple of times before giving the awards, the race volunteers came to a consensus as to how it was probably pronounced, and when he collected his medal, I asked, "Did I say your name right?" He said, "Close enough," so I guess it was. :)
I also got to have a nice conversation with another new 30-year-old, and a girl a couple of years older than us, about how competitive the womens' 30-34 age group is. This conversation was sparked because one of them did not collect her usual medal today, and we couldn't believe it.