Tuesday, February 3, 2009

I Love Mondays.

I was grumpy yesterday when I got to my tennis clinic, and sho’ nuff, it was knocked right out of me.

Gina showed up with contacts in, and we all marveled at her duo-toned eyes. One eye is completely gray-blue and the other is mostly gray-blue. A mere quarter of it is brown. This aspect of her eyes had never been so noticeable in glasses.

Gina considers herself a brown-eyed girl. She explained that technically, the blue-gray is not considered “blue,” but rather the “absence of color.” Meaning, her eyes were meant to be brown but didn’t get colored in correctly, and now they’re a little bit brown, but mostly they’re “non-brown,” a concept almost impossible to accept while you’re looking into her big, gray-blue eyes.

Then she started talking about an incident at Panera Bread, and as she was telling the story I began to wonder what the Venn Diagram depiction might be: Men who found Gina attractive; Panera Bread employess; and I can’t remember the third thing.

I love Venn Diagrams and wish they’d crop up in life more often. I once had an argument with my cousin about Rude Drivers and BMW Owners and speculated that that particular Venn Diagram would not be two circles overlapping, but rather one circle completely inside the other, like a bulls-eye. My cousin said that configuration did not count as a Venn Diagram, but when she left I looked it up and she was wrong.

The point here is not Gina’s eyes color, or that Venn Diagrams are useful imaging tools. It’s how the people I love to spend time with can take little stupid conversational tidbits and re-reference them in quiet, wry ways and just infuse everyday situations with fun. It’s my personal celebration that my tennis mates spent 90-minutes with me yesterday not only whacking the shit out of tennis balls, but also speculating how our life data could be diagramed, referring now to losing teams as “non-winners,” and even when Gina got knocked in the back of the head with a tennis ball, struggling to keep ourselves upright, holding our sides so they wouldn’t ache, because the laughter that takes place on that court could just knock anything right out of anyone.

And that’s why I live for Mondays.

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