I don’t have time to write this blog, US Open is on.

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by Constantin on Pixabay

It’s late August. It means that it’s time for one of my magnificent obsessions — the US Open in tennis.

I know, I know, I’ve written before about tennis and my love for the sport. It hasn’t abated since I last wrote about it. I actually resent, a little, having to leave the house when this Open is on TV.

The US Open, held in Flushing Meadows, New York, is the biggest stage in tennis. However, this wasn’t always the case. The very first US Open was first played in Newport, Rhode Island, in August of 1881. Now, Newport is the home for the Tennis Hall of Fame.

The US Open is the only Open of the four grand slams that has been played on three different court surfaces. First, it was played in a grass garden, then a clay court surface, then, finally in 1978, the tournament was moved to the USTA National Tennis Center in New York, where it is now played on a hard court surface.

I’m going to keep this blog simple – as I do not want to take up more time than I have to writing this because of the siren call of tennis on the TV in front of me right now. I understand that I have nothing to do with the professional world of tennis – no strong personal connection to the sport, other than playing it from time to time. But I do watch all of the major tournaments, and this, only this tournament is played in my time zone, so I can watch it live. Well, two hours ahead of Mountain Time, but close enough. And, as I’ve also mentioned before due my watching too many TV shows, I have very little free space on my DVR, so I can’t record the tournament. And god help anyone who spoils an ending of a match

for me if I’ve paused it for a few hours in order to … well, live; shop, work out, eat, go to the bathroom, and actually write some blogs and whatever else I’m working on. Hell hath no fury like a woman with a spoiled ending to a tennis game, am I right?

But with the US Open occurring in late August and early September, it’s more than just tennis. Watching this Open, I become more aware that “winter is coming.” More specifically, the cold weather of fall and winter – my weather. That the days are getting shorter, the nights chillier. This makes it easier for me to bear the hellish temperatures of late August and most of September, it rekindles hope somewhere in the pit of my stomach. Hope - that thing with wings and a tennis racquet. Like me, may you always have love in your game.

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