As I am sure you have probably guessed, this weekend … we played volleyball. What can I say, the minute the sun shines I feel it is my duty to head out to the park and utilise every last minute. And so started our weekend of misadventures…
Usually I decline to be on any side that has my most delightful of husbands on it. This is not because I am tempted to throw myself into his arms at every opportunity, nor for fear that we may distract each other. No. The reason I refuse to be on his team is simply because he is draconian, playing sports with Americo is akin to having a tyrant on your team. He bosses you about then attempts to explain the game, in simple terms. I end up feeling like a 5 year old, with coach detailing that the ball, flying at speed, requires for you to return it over the net. Really? I have always wondered about those finer details!
The problem is - everyone else knows what he’s like too! Therefore, because I love him so much and will eventually forgive his bad behaviour on court, I inevitably end up playing on his side. Americo has asked me to put in here that he is actually encouraging and uplifts moral. (hahahahahaha – what ever!)
Now, when Americo plays any ball sports he is like a fox terrier, charging for any and every ball, so much so that you eventually decide not to go for them, safe in the knowledge that back up is on its way.
Stupidly I forgot this golden rule. Picture the scene, ball coming directly at me, I leap up (looking remarkably sporty like!) to return it and win the point. Subconsciously I hear Americo pounding up behind me, but for some reason my brain does not register the danger until…. My jaw connects with his steel encased arm. OH the pain! It felt as though my jaw had been disconnected, in fact I initially wondered if it had!
Who would have thought that I, Zanna HTDS, would ever get to the stage of receiving a sporting injury? SO impressive! Others were less enthused by my war wound, suggesting that it is not a TRUE sporting injury. WHAT?? I was playing sports and got injured.. hence…? I am however happy to report that my jaw has now re-aligned itself and all is well that ends well (aside from the odd clicking when I chew!).
Unfortunately things were not so simple for Americo, who, after thumping me in the jaw with his reinforced steel arm, was bitten by some tiny, nondescript but vicious bug. The initial attack was so unexceptional that my hero did not even notice until much later in the evening when his foot resembled a balloon with toes. In true style we ignored his fat foot for the next day with expectations that the swelling would – well – just go! Come Monday morning (public holiday) unbelievably his foot was even bigger. Although we were all laughing about him having a kankle (calf/ankle) I did, in between giggles, manage to get him a doctor’s appointment.
The doctors recommended kankle treatment is a course of anti-inflammatory and antihistamine, which has left Americo feeling slightly wasted. Still he has laughed along with the rest of us about his current condition mostly, I think, because it is not actually painful! Otherwise he would have been ooohing and aaahing determined that the angels are calling his name. I promise you – there is none as sick as a male creature.
Usually I decline to be on any side that has my most delightful of husbands on it. This is not because I am tempted to throw myself into his arms at every opportunity, nor for fear that we may distract each other. No. The reason I refuse to be on his team is simply because he is draconian, playing sports with Americo is akin to having a tyrant on your team. He bosses you about then attempts to explain the game, in simple terms. I end up feeling like a 5 year old, with coach detailing that the ball, flying at speed, requires for you to return it over the net. Really? I have always wondered about those finer details!
The problem is - everyone else knows what he’s like too! Therefore, because I love him so much and will eventually forgive his bad behaviour on court, I inevitably end up playing on his side. Americo has asked me to put in here that he is actually encouraging and uplifts moral. (hahahahahaha – what ever!)
Now, when Americo plays any ball sports he is like a fox terrier, charging for any and every ball, so much so that you eventually decide not to go for them, safe in the knowledge that back up is on its way.
Stupidly I forgot this golden rule. Picture the scene, ball coming directly at me, I leap up (looking remarkably sporty like!) to return it and win the point. Subconsciously I hear Americo pounding up behind me, but for some reason my brain does not register the danger until…. My jaw connects with his steel encased arm. OH the pain! It felt as though my jaw had been disconnected, in fact I initially wondered if it had!
Who would have thought that I, Zanna HTDS, would ever get to the stage of receiving a sporting injury? SO impressive! Others were less enthused by my war wound, suggesting that it is not a TRUE sporting injury. WHAT?? I was playing sports and got injured.. hence…? I am however happy to report that my jaw has now re-aligned itself and all is well that ends well (aside from the odd clicking when I chew!).
Unfortunately things were not so simple for Americo, who, after thumping me in the jaw with his reinforced steel arm, was bitten by some tiny, nondescript but vicious bug. The initial attack was so unexceptional that my hero did not even notice until much later in the evening when his foot resembled a balloon with toes. In true style we ignored his fat foot for the next day with expectations that the swelling would – well – just go! Come Monday morning (public holiday) unbelievably his foot was even bigger. Although we were all laughing about him having a kankle (calf/ankle) I did, in between giggles, manage to get him a doctor’s appointment.
The doctors recommended kankle treatment is a course of anti-inflammatory and antihistamine, which has left Americo feeling slightly wasted. Still he has laughed along with the rest of us about his current condition mostly, I think, because it is not actually painful! Otherwise he would have been ooohing and aaahing determined that the angels are calling his name. I promise you – there is none as sick as a male creature.
