XMoose 2019 Memo

Wow! It was so fun today. The turn-out was great and we could have filled three courts with play.

I began this version of Moose Tennis (a 30-plus year legacy) a few months ago on this side of town; yet, Moose Tennis continues only because of those who love tennis and the Moose format. I look forward to the day I can't make it to Moose and it still occurs, flawlessly. It already has, thanks to characters such as Mack and Ed. And, others.

I am so damn thankful. Not for me, but for all those in the herd.

Jason - Official Moose Mascot

This is Jason, given to me by a customer, knowing of Moose Tennis from my writings. And, he is now the official Moose Tennis mascot. LeAnn gave her endorsement. That mattered not much, even after she sniffed it. He is so damn cute.

How can you not love this guy? And, how can all of us Moosers not enjoy and love all those who show to play even when other chores of life may take precedence.

Today, XMoose (Christmoose) was, is, to me, a precursor of what's to come. Moose will become a wonderful outlet and place for all those want to play tennis for whatever reason...and there are so many wonderful ones (reasons).

The characters, friends and players who consistently gather, outing after upon outing, every Saturday, tell me this casual tradition begun by a man nicknamed Moose, will continue beyond my existence and the children of those of the herd.

There is a love here. A love for a bunch of people who find cause or enjoyment to come out every Saturday, or any day, to enjoy and perhaps play the sport known as tennis.

Who knows?

Over a lifetime, I can say some of my best friends may have wielded an awesome racket or two. Now, most of my friends have no clue as how to apply a tennis racket in the sport of tennis. Just kidding - some are artful, powerful and sometimes downright dastardly in the application of shot selection and placement.

Nonetheless, most all are worth spending a few hours playing tennis with, as they are competitive and fun loving sorts - not the friends one wishes to lose.

Many of you will never know or have known Moose, the man, the person - the huge-hearted, gregarious, larger-than-life and lovable individual. Although I have adopted Moose (the animal, which he would love), it is still about the man, but he would love the reference. He has no choice.
I saw him in the hospital the day before he left us. He's in heaven observing the devotion.

This photo was not authorized by the USTA.

XMoose was wonderful on this Holiday Saturday of 2019. Many of the herd brought liquids of libation, which may have led to more points of interest. It seemed most everyone had some more game goin' on. LeAnn had more points ever won in one match (astonishing) or her entire amateur career, while Carolyn had the best slice shot winner I have, or anyone else has ever seen.  Oh, that was at the expense of Mack. It was crazy good!

I intentionally hit two of my worst shots ever and Ed lost the point on both. Thanks, Ed.

Oh, Ed said he is going away to Florida for the next two weeks and so is Carol. And they are staying in the same town. What's up with that? Ed mentioned something about new baby clothing. This comes from an unreliable, but lovable source. Sounds juicy.

Anyway, I love you guys, and gals.

This is not about me. I want to see Moose Tennis continue and last way beyond us. Yet, I may be around longer than anyone prefers.

My time will always be best spent with the likes of you...the herd.

Thank you.

Merry Christmas!

So You Were Naughty this Year...There May Be a Reprieve

There may still be time to get off that list so you may want to leave something nice near the tree for Santa.

As for the hostas (also known as plantain lily), deer and reindeer love them. They are like salad and the deer don't care about any dressing. And, with 70 species and around 3,000 varieties, they have a lot to choose from off the salad bar.

They are quite fond of the green (non-variegated) ones particularly when putting out those fragrant blooms. Bambi has quite the sniffer.

I don't know if any hunters want to consider baiting a field with hostas. There are other less expensive alternatives; however, hostas do come back year after year - they are herbaceous perennials.


Otherwise, are they worth it? Heck, yes.

They come in a variety colors, from green to yellow and blue, and mixtures of tones and varying formats.

Most are shade and partial sun lovers, while others tolerate more sun. Therefore, they can be used throughout most any landscape.

Also, over a few seasons, they can be split and used elsewhere on one's property, or traded for other plants or given away as gifts.

In getting away from poor planning ideas of many decades of the wrong (way too tall and obtrusive) plants being placed along home foundations (blocking windows, hiding patios and obscuring the look of one's home), hostas are wonderful relief.

So, think about planting some hostas and leave a little something extra for Santa. And, when you're done with that Christmas tree, please don't plant it just outside your living room window. It won't work, anyway.

Merry Christmas!

Purple Taters

The following story (whatever) was one I had written for a tennis blog I once maintained and because it deals so much with home and earth, I thought it best to retell here.

I know of some crazy things taking place when couples get together. My keys stay in my pocket, if you know what I mean.

But, when you are hanging out with some old tennis friends, having dinner and a few many (oxymoron) drinks, enjoying a nice spring evening, and the host asks, “Hey, have you seen my wife’s taters?” one has to take notice and consider such an inquiry. If nothing else, one must respond out of respect for such hospitality.

“Why, no. I haven’t”, I said. “Well. Would you like to?” was the reply from the host.

Oddly enough, the idea of doing so didn’t seem so unusual or out of bounds. It felt quaint, somewhat familial. Many of us had played tennis together for years and checking out the host’s wife’s taters didn’t seem so out-of-bounds as long as I was only to see her taters.

Was I about to cross that line? It appeared so as the hostess grabbed my hand, opened the back door and escorted me around to the side of their home.

The essence of freshly cut grass and trimmed shrubs filled the air, along with the occasional neon-like burst from a fire fly. It was a partially moonlit eve with some dim ambient lighting coming from the home.

She knelt down, leaned over and reached in as I eyed this purple, almost pinkish hue glistening from below me (I felt awkward, very nervous.) as she began to remove the topsoil to expose what were these rather large taters.

They were huge and purple – somewhat perky as they jutted out from the earth. I was in awe and now knew why the host was so proud of his wife’s taters.

As I reached in, to the garden, I discovered they were firm and so well attached - near total ripeness. One could definitely take pride in such taters.

Well, I thought this an event best kept to myself and nothing need be said. These taters were now so well exposed that mere mention of them meant overstating the obvious.

But, I couldn’t control myself as I began telling the other guests. Who could blame me? Those were some nice purple taters.

This story and satire courtesy of me and one of the best tennis couples (much respect) I have ever met.