"Cat-gut Your tongue?"

Yucky-poo, too many puddles were out there. My baseball hitters found numerous occasions to wet up the balls in various puddles. If my strings were cat-gut, like my old racquet was, I would have had to stop an hour earlier than we did. Whew! I am not mad! :{ I am not discouraged. The courts should be more dry tomorrow. The balls should stay in the court more tomorrow. I won't give up on you guys with this.
The pop of the new balls and the smell of the new balls quickly faded into grunge when they hit the puddles. I should've kissed those balls while I had a chance. Too late now, they are old and grungy. Spring training and a bunch of semi-motivated Walkerlings. forhands. What? What is a forehand? It is always back to the old drawing board in the spring. Like bunnies having to learn how to hop all over again, in the spring.
I had a little time with each of the 4 little ones while my Senioritis modelled her new creation dress all over the park. She's starting a new style. I'm with her. If I get her to make me one, I'll wear it to play tennis in. :}