Ded from sports, but otherwise alive and kicking

As I'd predicted (never let it be said that age brings nothing but wrinkles, because I can practically feel the wisdom and experience growing) Tuesday went past much faster and a lot more pleasantly than anticipated. Although I didn't feel like it, I went to the farewell party, and it was nice, and it resulted in a spontaneous get-together yesterday for lunch with the Belles Dames Sans Merci.
Yesterday was also the day of the acid test for my right forearm: tennis at 9 with Valentina (1hr) and tennis at 4 with Elena (1,5 hrs). The arm passed the test with flying colours.
After morning tennis I walked home, because the weather was fine and cool -- 1 hr of walking, which is perfect for cool-down after playing. Did a few household chores and cuddled ze boyz, then went to lunch with Belles Dames, which was great. Since lunch was at 1 and tennis at 4, I didn't want to have to go home in between; so I wore the top of my tennis outfit with jeans and trainers and merely had to exchange the jeans for the skirt at the tennis club's loo.
Ah, the marvellous feeling of physical exhaustion after a day of sports... (marvellous only if you can spend the evening at home, of course)

Maria Angeles, the Spanish member of Les Belles Dames, invited us for dinner tomorrow at her place, which is reason for a double SQUEEE, because 1) we'll be having a great girls' evening and 2) she lives in the same building as I, on the 5th floor -- even if very drunk, which is a distinct possibility, going home won't be much of a challenge.

The black- and/or greyness is completely gone by now, and I'm feeling on top of the world again. Mr H isn't forgotten, but experience and wisdom (see above) certainly helped me accept that, if a man isn't interested, he isn't interested, that such things just happen, much though one might dislike them, and that being almost 46 and without a boyfriend/partner isn't the end of the world, because 1) another interesting guy or two might come along, and 2) except for the blatant lack of sex, there are many advantages to being single. The fact that neither Elena nor the Belles Dames mentioned him might have helped, too. On Monday the weekly briefings at [...] will resume, though, and I hope I'll be able to keep up the Zen attitude even in the face of His Gorgeousness. Not that I don't have the best of intentions, but things tend to be a bit different if you actually *see* the person. (Probably twice on Monday, because I suppose he'll be at the Ukrainian National Day reception as well...)

Boss, who had planned to leave today, will be leaving on Saturday, and there aren't any unpleasant-looking appointments in my diary, neither for today nor for tomorrow. It seems that the Fates have found another victim to play pranks on, at least temporarily.

BTW, I think I forgot to share a deafening SQUEEEEE with the f-list -- Klaus, my much-beloved best male (gay) friend, will be visiting from 24 to 28 September! I did see him while in Ankara, but only when I was in Vienna, so having him here is going to be fantastic in so many ways. He's not only my best, but also one of my oldest friends: I've known him since 1986, i.e. since he was 14 and I 22! 24 years, that's more than half my life... (Janine holds the record with 26 years) I already asked whether he'd like to go to Ohrid, but he prefers to stay here in Skopje -- climbing the Vodno is a must, of course -- and maybe, depending on the weather, dedicate half a day to an outing into the surroundings. There's a very beautiful monastery about 30 km out of town, and we really should go to Matka (same distance, opposite direction) to enjoy the landscape there (very old artificial lake, cave).

That's it for now, folks. Have a great day!

Queasy. Bonus feature: cat habits

I had to go to a mini-reception today at noon, at a hotel where recently there was a case of severe food poisoning (a basketball team, I believe). I had maybe 10 pieces of finger food.
Now I'm feeling queasy.
Is it the mind trying to prove its unlimited power over the body, or was the food off?
*listens to rumbling belly*
*tries to persuade self that food was ok*
*thinks of clam canapé*
*tries not to panic*
*remembers that mistook thin layer of egg spread for thin layer of cheese because of taste...*
Please, let it not be food poisoning. Yes, I'd lose weight, but that's not my preferred way of losing weight.
*pours more green tea into self*
I think I'll give the gym a miss today, unless belly de-rumbles dramatically within the next 30 minutes. If nothing else, ze boyz -- sadly deprived of Deputy Mother Goddess -- will be happy if I come home earlier.

Cats are creatures of habit.
Sometimes they develop new ones or rediscover forgotten ones.
Cornelius has  1) recently rediscovered that he wants to be brushed every day, be it only for half a minute, and 2) discovered that he likes to sit on the edge of the tub while I'm showering. I, on the other hand, have perfected the skill of showering without getting even one droplet of water on Cornelius. And of course he gets his daily brushing.
Conclusion: cats may not have written many books about conditioning their humans, but they have it down to an art form.

*RUMBLE*