Stunning tennis victory; a curiously difficult class

My tennis partner Tai, who I pay to play with me, started showing up late and seemed to be disinterested when he played, like his mind was somewhere else. It was like having sex with someone who doesn't really want to have sex with you. (Insert your pithy comeback here.)  I threatened to withhold money, and he perked up a little. Tai is a good guy, and doesn't want to humiliate me, so he lets me win a game or two. He's that much better, which could be part of the problem regarding his motivation. On Wednesday, he let me climb out of a 3-1 hole to square our match 3-3. Then, it was obvious he was going to turn it on and give me the beating I so clearly deserved. But Tai couldn't get his mojo back on his serve. He double-faulted, and then I walloped a second serve and before you could say Millman sucks at tennis, I broke his serve to lead 4-3. Then the tennis gods smiled on me and my serve gave him trouble, and I held to lead 5-3. I was a runaway train at this point and Tai was in the dumps -- I broke his serve again to take the set 6-3.  Of course the victory comes with a few asterisks, but as Phuong says when she beats me in rock, scissors, paper: "A win is a win."  Tai could beat me 6-0 any time he chooses, but he left the door open for me. My buddy David Pratt is an even better tennis player than Tai, and he would take it easy on me at times, but I never, ever got a sniff of a victory against David.
The heat continues to be stifling and unbearable for me here. My constant sweating has resulted in some real skin difficulties. I have to shower with salt, a special lotion and regular soap three times a day. After my showers, I have to put on an expensive cream to keep cysts and rashes at a minimum. Charming, huh? I've been sitting in my air-conditioned room a lot. The heat seems to bother Joanna a little, but she's also teething. And last week she had a throat infection and fever, and was very grumpy. But she's a trooper, and is back to standing, crawling on my computer, making faces at me, and chewing my shoes. Phuong is well-adapted to the weather, of course, and won't put ice in her drinks because she says it bothers her throat. As for me, I'm barely coping with the weather here.
I saw two motorbike accidents in the past week. The first was minor. The second was a little more serious and one guy's ankle looked pretty banged up. Both accidents were on Vo Thi Sau, where I had one of my accidents.
I had a very difficult class last week, which is a rarity here. Even stranger, I've taught these students before and we seemed to get along very well. But I was gone for a few weeks in the U.S., and when I returned, this class apparently soured on me. Maybe I don't play enough games. I knew things had gone south when I asked close to 30 questions -- many from the book -- and got two responses, which weren't audible. And the questions were about movies. There were only seven students in the class, and all I saw the entire 90 minutes were the tops of their heads because they were either staring at the floor or looking into their cell phones. I asked the class what the problem was, and one student snapped: "I'm tired." I responded that as the 62-year-old father of a 10-month-old, I'm always tired. That's true but beside the point. I also told the students they should stay at home if they're tired and don't want to learn and participate. The official version from one of the students was that the class didn't understand my questions. I'm not buying that one. This is supposed to be a higher level class. Maybe the kids were collectively having a bad day. I like these guys -- they're high school to university age -- but I won't forget those 90 minutes any time soon. I've always had a problem "letting go." Poor Phuong had to hear the story about 11 times about how I downloaded five videos and created a handy-dandy vocabulary quiz for the unappreciative class, and she finally said, "I think I've got it." OK, I'll let it go now. Oh, and one more thing ...
Joanna is very close to walking, and took a few inadvertent steps the other day when she wanted a toy. She seemed to realize what she was doing and immediately flopped to her knees. She hasn't walked -- or tried to walk -- since.

Big belly -- again; IELTS and tennis

The local fascination with my pot belly continues to amaze me. I was in the produce section at Metro supermarket on Sunday looking over the few remaining zucchinis when a man and a boy about 5 or 6 years old, presumably father and son, smiled and came walking toward me. I smiled at them and waited for their arrival. When they got to me, the man grabbed the boy's hand and had the child poke my stomach and search for my belly button. I'm sure stranger things have happened to me, but none that I can think of off the top of my head. The incident wasn't nefarious, but it weirded me out. I let the boy poke and prod for a few seconds -- he and dad (I guess it was dad) found the whole process hilarious. Me? I just walked away, prepared to defend myself from further prodding with a large zucchini I took off the shelf. If this kind of crap keeps happening, I'll have to go back to calling myself the White Monkey again.
I returned to the tennis court last week. Phuong arranged for me to play a 21-year-old whipper snapper named Tai three times a week at 8 a.m.  I'm no competition for Tai -- he's a young tennis bum -- but I get a hell of a workout in the brutal heat. Yes, the heat is brutal at 8 a.m. and my shirt is so soaked with sweat  that it weighs about four pounds when the tennis is finished at 9 a.m. My tennis game is becoming like my golf game. I'm awful, but I'll recount my one or two shining moments that make it all seem worthwhile. Plus, I'm 62 and coming off several bad motorbike accidents. So while my mind and spirit are willing, my pot-bellied body is practically disabled. Tai wins 6-0, 6-1, and he barely breaks a sweat. But then again, he's Vietnamese and the Vietnamese don't sweat very much. One guy strolled across my court while we were into our match and I kind of lost it. I threw more F-bombs at that clown than I've said in the past year. The guy's attitude of entitlement during his stroll across our court pissed me off more than the fact he interrupted our match. He sort of apologized and I threw one last F-bomb at him. A couple of other guys have cut across our court, but they asked if it was OK, smiled, and then hustled across. That doesn't bother me.
I'm teaching IELTS -- International English Language Testing System - at our language center and I find it reasonably enjoyable. The students are motivated and their English is quite decent. The focus is on speaking with some writing sprinkled in. So I'm pretty comfortable with it.
Our tall daughter Joanna is getting even taller. She stands a lot, and babbles ma-ma-ma and ba-da-ba for 15 minutes or so every night before she falls asleep. What a cutie..
Phuong and I are exhausted because we're up at 5:15 a.m. every day with Joanna. And the Peanut, which we sometimes affectionately call her, doesn't really like napping. She'll nap, but it's a struggle, adding to our fatigue. Wouldn't change a thing.
Stopped drinking the sugar-infested tea here, and just drink lots and lots of water. Maybe my stomach will get smaller.


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