Football Ball

(Until May 2nd, don't trust the dates on these posts... They are in chronological order but not necessarily written at the times indicated.)

Yesterday Alex informed me that soccer balls, in the rest of the world, are called football balls. Not footballs. Football balls. I thought that was awfully strange. I also think that in order to improve foreign relations, America should change the name of soccer to football and football to hiteachotherball, or something. Someone tell Obama.

So I just got back from another game of tennis. I'm really starting to enjoy it (and Murry said I'm a natural... possibly proving you can't trust relatives to tell you the truth about your athletic abilities) and I'm incredibly sore which I always take as a good sign. I wish I knew where a tennis court was in Corinth. When I informed Alex I wanted to start playing he said, "Lay... you're like a little kid. Every time you do something you get so excited about it and want to do it forever and then you forget about it."(Or something like that.) He may be right. But I've kept moderately interested in tennis since Andrew and I played in Francestown a few summers ago.

Ah the days of innocence.

Anyway, basically I'm just trying to enjoy my last few days in Corsica and trying to convince Alex we need to come here in July. If it wasn't for Alex I don't think I'd go back to Greece... I'd just stay here. I'm really getting sad about having to leave my Europe-family when I go back to America. It has been so nice being able to pop over to France when I feel like it.

Alright I need to go because my wrist hurts from all this tennis. I might take a walk down to the beach because the maids are here and I seem to get in the way.

Fin