But Who's Counting?

Last night a friend of mine went to see his 100th Bob Dylan show. This is impressive on a few different levels – the main one, for me, being that he even knew it had been one hundred. When did he start keeping track? (How did he even remember?)

I guess I’m not a counter. I like playing tennis (which I’ve mentioned once or twice) and I love playing in my two weekly clinics, but I’m not even sure how many years we’ve been playing together. Although I’m pretty sure it’s not a hundred.

Laura the Tennis Pro once told us that in order for a shot to be consistent – that is, for you to rely on being able to hit a forehand groundstroke and get it to where you want it to go – you need to execute the shot correctly ten thousand times. How did that research come to be? Is someone actually counting?

Many of the things I like, I find it easier to have just one of. A few weeks ago my Neti Pot broke and I couldn’t bear the thought of a single day without a sinus rinse. So I went to Whole Foods and bought a replacement. I considered buying a second – a backup – but that seemed a bad idea. I thought I would take better care of the new Neti Pot if I didn’t have another waiting in the wings.

I only have one Barbie Doll. She sits on top of my pencil sharpener in her lavender crinoline and tights. I always know where she is.

Conversely, we had three copies (maybe four) of The Catcher in the Rye, and I can’t find any of them.

I was wracking my brain trying to think of something I could celebrate 100 of. And then it occurred to me: I’m just a few short Takes away from a hundred blog posts.

Hot damn!