e is away....: J-Ollie Hockey Sticks

We have been hit by a tornado of the Jolliest of Jolly Hockey Sticks: one Oliver S, one of Frederick's oldest friends, and the son of the famous Tricia and Chuck: part-time Parisians, world famous dinner party givers and ski buddies exraordinarie. Their kid is simply the greatest house guest of all time. People around here call him Oilie; we call him Jolliie. He arrived the other morning, after traveling for more than 24 hours, and stayed awake until 7 30 that night. Since then he has joined in every tennis lesson, golf lesson, and swim in cold water we have offered; in addition he is now the captain of their little sailing team of two. We were worried he needed just a tad more sleep because after the first night he woke up at 3 am and did not go back to sleep: he simply waited politely until F woke up. So that afternoon I said, what do you say to a nap? it will get you out of math homework (long German story-Thomas is making F do extra, and his mother, gaily said: perfect!! Oliver will do that too! as she hopped in her car to her little three day surf camp).

Oliver enthusiastically accepted my nap idea, as if I were offering chocolate ice cream. He only said: if anything happens that is fun while I sleep, then you should wake me. Don't worry about waking me!

Then when I went to wake him, he rolled over, saying "I FEEL LIKE A NEW MAN!!!" and went outside where my father-in-law was reading and waved his hat in his direction: Hello MR WEHLEN!!! He asked me: Do i look tired Ellie? No Oliver, not at all. I KNOW!!!! I DON'T FEEL TIRED!!!

So far their schedule is tennis, then sailing, then golf, then cake, with various baseballs tossed around in between. Thrown in is a little math and/or German homework. Oliver even wanted to crash Frederick's german lesson with his grandmother. I'd LOVE TO LEARN GERMAN!!!!

The sailing is the best. Thomas said if they could convince the people to rent them a boat, they could sail. So the guy asks: can you sail? (CAN WE SAIL???!! WE WERE BORN SAILING!!!!!) and off they went...and you know what? they are not bad. Thomas was amazed. They of course want to go in the larger catamaran, but T bonged that idea, saying he had to see how they did on the Laser. Today was much windier and they capsized a few times, but righted it in good order.

Oliver is speaking with an English accent because there are so many kids in tennis that are English boarding school types...buck teeth and all, and he thinks it is all just so great. I LOVE THEIR ACCENTS! (F is not so sure...he thinks they sound ridiculous). But Oliver sits next to them, asking them to say things, and delighting in it all. ToMAto!!!! I love it!!! He also asks them if they can speak with an American accent. You know what ELLIE???!! THEY CAN'T!!!!!

On the horizon is the dreaded (for parents) carting day, when they get to drive in very fast go carts with engines and no waiver, as well as the tennis tournament for which Oliver is woefully under-prepared mentally. These English kids, beautiful accents aside, are world class dinkers ....it is terrible...some of them have won many matches without hitting a single backhand. Oliver is a highly athletic child with, unfortunately, pride...so he is loathe to adopt the only possible recourse against English dinkers, which is to dink back. "But I don't want to be a dinker Thomas!!! Then you will lose Oliver.

Silence.

Because of the gravity of the situation, I brought in the big guns, and called Andrew to discuss his strategy for playing an English dinker. God he was funny. He listened only briefly before he interruped with some urgency: "They simply must give up the dream of beautiful tennis if they want to beat anyone. If the other kid starts dinking...the gloves must come off. You must get in their sandbox!" (he actually used both metaphors back to back) gloves off in the sand box. got it.......

He continued: They must dink every, single shot to the other kids backhand and they must try to run around their own. Every serve, every shot to the backhand!!! Do they have time to read Winning at the losers game? It is a book about investing but the first chapter explains that until the PROFESSIONAL level, tennis is won, by not losing the point...it is about avoiding unforced errors....Steffi Graf can beat a dinker by smashing, but not them!

Poor Oliver, I feel bad for the kid....this might have burst his bubble I told him that we knew this was unpleasant, but what can one do when faced this this kind of terrorism? Andrew was as athletic and competitive as any kid ever; and to win at tennis he said he would get in a zone of simply getting every stupid ball back until his opponent tried to stab him with a sawed off racket, or lost.

Lots more...but Thomas is now down to one good elbow and one good calf. The therapist said she thinks he lost too many electrolytes, exercising in the heat..and gatorade won't cut it. So we have to go into town to find something fit for Germans to drink while they leap around. He is now playing golf waiting to go for a walk with me in the nature reserve along the beach. Like old people.

Had an amazing conversation with the children at dinner: if you had to pick 6 people that live or have ever lived to have dinner with, whom would it be? stay tuned