Hottest On Court

Maria Sharapova, they say, is the “most bankable” player on the tennis circuit. She’s ranked 4th in the world (seeded 5th in the Aussie Open this year), one time occupying the top spot, having won both Wimbledon and the US Open. She is tall and slender and beautiful. And those legs. Those legs! Goodness, they must be insured. There are few other such bankable tennis beauties. Nicole Vaidisova, the big-boned Czech who, to some, threatens to unseat Sharapova as the hottest chick on court. Ivanovic, tennis’ Catherine Zeta-Jones. Then there’s cute Chakvetadze who’s on the come-up. I watched the match between Daniela Hantuchova (another pretty girl – but she’s gotta gain more weight) and Maria Kirilenko, and instantly decided Kirilenko brings back sexy to tennis. Inspired me to immediately don my running shoes and hit the gym. This girl's hot hot HOT! So hot, I wanna be her. A cross between a young Tatum O’Neal and a likewise younger Rebecca de Mornay. To the younger set, she’s Cameron Diaz meets Michelle Williams.Good grief, that body’s to diet for! I’m inspired to start lifting those weights and taking yoga seriously. But to be bankable, she’s got to start winning matches. And fast. At 21, unless she turns things around soon like her pal, Anna Chakvetadze, has done recently, it won’t be long before her sizzle fizzles and she turns into a Kournikova.

The Federer Express Losing Speed?

I really hope I’m wrong – that My Man, Roger’s not on his way down. Attribute it to the virus that kept him away from the court the ten days before the Australian Open; to the fact that he didn’t hold a racquet much less play in a practice tournament. But I fear it is a bit more serious than that.

My Man Roger used to command the court; so much so that your heart goes out each time to the unfortunate fellow on the other side of the net. I always said, Roger’s got talent. Like he was simply born to play this game. Put him on court against someone with tremendous skill, like Roddick, or Davydenko, or against someone with tremendous heart, like Baghdatis, or Gonzales, or even Hewitt, and Roger absolutely shines in his exceptionality. The moniker “Federer Express” or FedEx aptly describes how Roger’s all-around game can run roughshod over the best of them. He really is magical. Nadal is the only player who comes close to owning this gift.

The other thing that sets Roger apart is his cool collectedness on court, for which he has earned his second moniker, The Ice Man. He is never fazed, never rattled. And he never lets an error get in the way of the next point.

I watched his 3rd round match against Janko Tipsarevic, ranked 49 in the world and unseeded at the Aussie Open. It was a nail-biting, nerve-wracking, 5-setter that saw My Man Roger struggling to stay in the game, against a man nobody would have predicted could give any of us a fright. I knew there was trouble the minute he got broken in the first set, a set he subsequently lost on a tiebreak. It was almost downhill from there. Roger won the second set but not by much – also on a tiebreak – then promptly lost the 3rd at 5-7. A glimmer of the old magic in the 4th, which he won convincingly at 6-1. And then, I almost peed my pants before Roger won the 5th at 10-8. 10-8!!!

My own analysis: The virus had very little to do with it. Roger’s losing a bit of his touch. Maybe it’s simply evolution, adaptation. The other players are getting better because they have to, to beat him. Or maybe it’s simply Roger’s getting overconfident, underestimating his opponents, and getting his comeuppance for thinking himself invincible on court. But what I saw in the Tipsarevic match was a loss of focus, and skill, and heart. Roger was missing shots that, in his “glory days,” were his bread and butter. He kept getting himself caught wrong-footed, failing to anticipate his opponents’ angles and direction, shanking his service returns, netting his first serves. Worse, he made uncharacteristic unforced errors on the forehand, oftentimes missing his signature passing shots and clearing by feet the lines he used to clean so magically in the past. And he was visibly annoyed with himself. So much so that he had to cheer himself on as he won points. I suppose he had to – winning points in this game seemed like such a struggle. He won simply because someone had to, in the end. He was not being generous when he said during his on-court interview that it is unfortunate there are no draws in tennis. This one would have been one.
I’m keeping my fingers crossed. It’s too soon, Roger. A few more slams (just a couple more, I think) and Sampras’ record will be broken.

I am holding my breath and literally praying. Nadal’s looming.

Heidi Learned Today That ... (A Recurring Post)

I decided that every so often I will post whatever new thing I learn (which will probably be mostly new words or new phrases) and share my expanding vocabulary and outlook with you, my dear friends.

My first entry: The origin of the phrase “fall off the wagon”:

I heard this phrase uttered in an episode of my favorite sitcom of all time, “Friends” – that episode where Monica’s recovering alcoholic-boyfriend is trying to break up with her, but before he can get to the words, she, thinking he was actually confessing to having had a drink, exclaims, “Oh no, you’ve fallen off the wagon!” Been using it ever since to refer to any relapse – that is, if you quit smoking and relapse, you’ve “fallen off the wagon”; if you’re a recovering alcoholic and relapse, you’ve “fallen off the wagon”; if you’ve tried to turn over a new leaf and be kinder to people in general (as the Dame did) and relapse, you’ve “fallen off the wagon”; etc., etc., etc…

Only the second, however, is the correct usage of the phrase.

From “The Phrase Finder” (a really neat site!), I found this:

“The original version of this expression 'on the water wagon' or 'water cart,' which isn't heard anymore, best explains the phrase. During the late 19th century, water carts drawn by horses wet down dusty roads in the summer. At the height of the Prohibition crusade in the 1890s men who vowed to stop drinking would say that they were thirsty indeed but would rather climb aboard the water cart to get a drink than break their pledges. From this sentiment came the expression 'I'm on the water cart,' I'm trying to stop drinking, which is first recorded in, of all places, Alice Caldwell Rice's 'Mrs. Wiggs of the Caggage Patch' (1901), where the consumptive Mr. Dick says it to old Mrs. Wiggs. The more alliterative 'wagon' soon replaced cart in the expression and it was eventually shortened to 'on the wagon.' 'Fall off the (water) wagon' made its entry into the language almost immediately after its abstinent sister." From the "Encyclopedia of Word and Phrase Origins" by Robert Hendrickson (Facts on File, New York, 1997).”

Interesting, no? And so now we know. And can use the phrase. Correctly …

To A Dear Friend (Who Is Sorely Missed)

I wonder oftentimes if you were right all along. To leave the country. To stay single. To be childless. I don’t know what your life is like over there, halfway around the world. Knowing you, life must be glamorous. Fast-paced but worry-free. And full of adventure. You have had your share of heartaches, I know. But again, knowing you, you just scrubbed your hands and washed your hair of the mess the morning after and moved on, didn’t you? Have you ever even needed a good cry?

I remember when we used to be inseparable. I wondered, even then, how it could be possible that someone like me, who finds it difficult to warm to new acquaintances, much less build true friendships (until a friend’s loyalty and dependability are proven by years of constancy), could have been taken in so easily. Maybe it was your honesty. The often brutal way you put other people in their place. Or the way you inspired me not to waste my time on hollow things, or hollow people.

You were always the tough one. The toughest friend I have. There is no more compelling image, even then, and up to now, that signifies independence, hard-hitting candor, and feminine strength to me than that of you smoking a cigarette! Nothing ever fazed you!

By all accounts, you are living the life you said even then, more than 10 years ago, that you would live. There would be no husband, you said, to drag you down, to get used to whose noises and smells, to compromise to, to grow old and neglected and bored with. And there would be no kids to raise badly, to assuage the guilt of a life lived without purpose. How liberating it must be to answer only to yourself. To be judged only against the standards you yourself set and live by, are familiar with. There would be no self-reproach. No unfulfilled expectations of the kind of person, wife, mother, you should be; how you should behave. There would be none of the usual recriminations that follow each failure to meet the goals set for you by other people. How I yearn for this life!

I have no friends now. Not one of them is like you, anyway. Not that they could ever be. And oftentimes I am lonely. And ache for someone to tell me the awful truth, the way you used to. Simplify things for me in the way only you seemed to know how. Offer practical, frank counsel. And snap me out of my melancholy and madness when I need it.

Will you write me often? Tell me about your life? Tell me that it’s not as fabulous as I think. That it’s a daily grind. That it is not exactly how you imagined it back then. That the pain and loss of what could have been are beyond words. Tell me, please, that there is no right path. That perhaps it is I who made the right choice.

Then write to me about the small joys of being a single woman in New York. Though I will never own these joys, they might somehow find their way across the oceans and through your pages to me. And give me hope.

Will you, Sister?

2008 Resolutions

It’s that time of the year again. But first, I must pat myself on the back for a good year, accomplishing most of the resolutions set last year; the biggest of which is … drum roll, please ... I’ve quit smoking! Well, at least, I smoke only on occasion. That means, at the Christmas and New Year’s Eve parties ONLY (and before then, a clean 3 ½ months!). I still struggle with the drinking without the smoking. And with well-meaning friends who are all too eager to give you a free fag for the company. (Well, of course I’ve fallen off the wagon a few other times… But, just trust me on this, they don’t count.)

I’ve prepared my To-Do list for the New Year. I know, I know, I should have done earlier. But things never get into their proper perspective until the holidays (and the mania that goes with them) are actually, totally, over.

So here goes:

1. Maintain a smoke-free life. Or, at the very least, smoke only when drinking. (I try now to be more realistic so the resolutions are achievable.)
2. Discipline Maia. Don’t give in to her tantrums or her negotiating tactics.
3. Move house. Cannot put this off any longer. I cannot continue to live in a flat owned by my mother-in-law (even if I pay rent!).
4. Get a new job. What with the mess of 2007, I deserve better this year.
5. Blog everyday. Or more often. Yes, more realistic.
6. Read. Read. Read! And so learn. Learn. Learn!
7. Exercise at least 4x a week. That means, don’t miss yoga class on Saturdays. Run for 45 minutes at least 2x a week. Train at badminton 1x a week. So far, so good.
8. Eat less. Or eat healthier. And keep the weight down. I want to feel good about myself all year.
9. Budget. Budget. Budget!!! And keep on it. And so save. Save. Save!!! That also means, shop less. Or shop smart. No more compulsive buying.
10. Take Maia to Disneyland. Better yet, Disneyworld. Then finally (finally!) go see NY afterwards. Promise.

Happy New Year!

My Christmas Loot

It’s been a manic Christmas holiday. What with the crammed shopping (I promise to do my Christmas shopping as early as October this year!) resulting in my spending more than I ever intended to, the wrapping, looking for just the right food, wine and champagne for the various Christmas gatherings with friends and family, the spending, the spending!, the Christmas decorating that was never completed (Can you believe I didn’t put up a Christmas tree in my flat this year?! Terrible, terrible, mom, I am!), and that short trip to Singapore where thousands of pesos were spent on things necessary for the soul but certainly not healthy on the pocket and for the purchase of which things my Citibank visa card was practically maxed out (I expect I will faint when I get the bill!). And then there’s the matter of keeping a 4-year old constantly asking to open her presents before the Big Day from actually opening those presents before the Big Day. I’m absolutely exhausted!

The loot? What about the loot? WHERE'S THE LOOT?, you ask. Here are my top 10 picks of the most exciting and/or the most useful (and this includes Christmas gifts as well as my own purchases) of the season:

1. A Betseyville Betsey Johnson bag which my sister picked out for me. Really cute. Really me, I thought. She hit it this time.

2. A Lumix DMC-FX33 8.1 MP camera (with intelligent auto – the camera can actually identify as many as 9 faces on the LCD and focus on them for an all-clear shot – and wide-angle 28mm Leica lens) from Hubby. It’s small enough for the purse, too. 3. The Toy Watch I bought in Singapore. 4. A Stuart Weitzman pair of clear jelly slippers with real swarovski crystals on the straps. Broke the bank (I mean, for a pair of slippers). Also from Singapore. 5. Nail polish from The Face Shop. I never thought I’d be able to wear on my toenails polish of any color other than the red variety. But the paint job from this one’s clean and classy. Thanks, Audine. 6. Covet by SJP. Wasn’t actually sure I’d like the scent of this but just had to have it after I fell in love with … the reviews (“Lovely”, which is available in Rustan’s, wasn’t bad either – it’s probably the sweetest, most “ingenue” scent I’ve ever sampled. Mental note to get this one for days I want to feel young. Mwahaha!). Covet turned out to be quite bold. I like. It’s mature and headstrong. Courtesy of Hubby, too; loot from a Singapore late-night shopping trip. 7. This embroidered and patched bag from a sister-in-law. Dunno where she got it. Not really me, I know. But it’s pretty … Anyway, my sister’s already waiting in the wings for it. 8. A bag organizer. From another sister-in-law. Will hopefully help me mend my ways this year and keep the clutter out of the purse. At the very least, keep things organized so I don’t have to rummage through a seemingly bottomless pit or the black hole that is the invariably huge bag full of trash that needs to be sorted. 9. I don’t honestly know what this is called. A bag hanger? It’s that thingy you hang on any table that will allow you to hang your bag on it so it doesn’t get squished when you sit with it on the chair or doesn’t get dripped on while on your lap during the meal or doesn’t get stolen as it sits by its lonesome on the vacant chair beside you. I’ve always thought this to be a clever invention and always wanted one. A thank you gift from McSweetie’s Significant Other – in sweet appreciation of my efforts in buying and lugging her LV bag from Singapore. 10. “Fashion Babylon”, a novel. Haven’t finished yet. But it’s quite fun reading, so far. (Waiting their turn on the nightstand are “The Kite Runner” – quite critically acclaimed – “The Crimson Petal and the White” and a book lent to me a century ago by Audine called “Free Food for Millionaires”. I promise to get on it right away, Audine-girl … Sorry!) I appreciated all the gifts this year (including the ones I got for myself!) – the large and the small – and recycled not a one! Even the food. A top pick is that super moist chocolate cake from our Healthy Growing Baby Boy, baked by an outfit called “Jhak’s”. All the in-laws raved about the cake (but were unanimous in the opinion that Jhak should change his name -- or the spelling of it, at least). Thanks, Yoy! Made a mental note to order next year’s Christmas gifts from this chap, and perhaps offer some unsolicited advice that the branding should be as fabulous (and as classy) as the product.

When the debris finally settled (and that’s on the evening of January 1st), I took stock of the season and the year that passed and firmly decided it was a good year. I have a lot to be thankful for. Not least of which is despite all the trials and heartaches of the past year, I somehow managed to keep my integrity and my honor intact. It feels really good to be able to say that. (No regrets, my friends.) I managed, too, to somehow smooth things over on the home front – and that means my (ex-)husband and I are not openly feuding (and shouting and screaming at each other) anymore. My daughter has somehow gotten used to the sleeping arrangements (which include her dad keeping his own room in her grandmother’s house) and I was able to let go of a too-“familiar” nanny who was abusive of my kindness and generosity. On the work-front, things have been busy and then not too busy. I’ve decided this is good. This year was not as frantic or as riddled with failures as past years. The company has had the Great Success which up till now it only imagined. Most importantly, my entire family has enjoyed good health this year. And that in itself is reason to rejoice and be grateful.

Cheers!!!