I tried something new for breakfast. English black pudding. I didn’t like the texture at all. It tasted kind of like pork sausage, if you agree to stretch that definition a bit. OK … a lot. After my attempt I looked it up. Good thing I tried it first. It’s called blood pudding in the U.S. Made from the blood and fat of a pig, mixed with the hulled kernels of oats and some weird kind of spices, no doubt designed to mask the real flavor. You can keep that one, UK.
We did our prayer walk. This one covered our “home turf,” Deck 9. And we found a few tiny ducks this time. Our collection is growing.
We enjoyed lunch. Not so much the food as the company. We sat next to a couple from the U.K. who are now living in Germany. They were what I would categorize as “delightful.” They asked all about Galveston, then spent a good deal of time describing the “must see’s” as well as the dangers (pickpockets) of being an American tourist in Barcelona.
In the afternoon we went to a performance by a makeshift choir of about a hundred of the cruisers. They did an amazing job. They sang an array of songs from different genres. After only five rehearsals of 30 minutes each, it was pretty incredible.
Guess what? Today was the make-up pickleball training. The original one got rained out. This one stayed on. In spite of wind gusts of 30 mph and a temperature of 45. Both of us were out in force. All went well for about an hour. Then the singular sound rang through the air … “SPLAT.” All play stopped. Gasps were heard from across the two courts in use.
A hesitant glance revealed the source of the sound. One of the portable nets was scattered askew. And sprawled across the net?
Well, yes, there was a body. But no, it wasn’t me. That just leaves …
Yep. You guessed it. It was that one guy we met from San Antonio named Marcos. He and his wife were at least ten, twenty years younger than us. He was trying for a ball near the net and completely lost his balance. He was OK, though. Bruised ego.
Meanwhile, Chris and I were busy smoking the team we were playing against on the other court. Oh, I imagine we’ll be some kinda serious sore for a few days (or weeks?). But for now? We made it through pickleball. WE ARE UNSTOPPABLE!
Jeremiah 29:13 says, You will seek Me and find Me when you search for Me with all your heart.
Father, thank you for keeping us relatively unscathed on the pickleball court. Please be with Marcos (and us) as we nurse our sore bodies. Amen.
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