The Sony Ericsson Tennis Tournament is in town – boosting the local economy and wreaking havoc on traffic patterns. Jonathan and I were given some tickets and went last Thursday night – just missed Venus Williams, but caught Henman vs Canas (before he went on to beat Federer).

We sat and watched the game, something like this:

Serve, hit, hit.

Jonathan: “So how were the boys today?”

Laura “Good. Jonah’s diaper rash is back with a vengeance and Benjamin was walking around a lot.”

Serve, hit, hit, hit.

Laura: “Did you speak with our real estate agent about the contract on our condo?”

Jonathan: “Yes, we’re granting an extension.”

Serve…ace.

[How desperate are we for conversation?!]

* * *

Tuesday night we entertained a couple of clients in Jonathan’s company’s box seats and saw some of Justine Henin (ranked #2) vs Nadia Petrova (6) and then Rafael Nadal (2) vs Juan Martin del Potro.

Petrova above and Martin and del Potro below.

One of Jonathan's clients was born in Ghana, but sounds like a native English-speaker. Turns out that although everyone speaks indigenous languages in Ghana, the schooling is all in English. He also moved to the States when he was six, so that helped as well. I asked him which language he swears in, because in my opinion that is always the way to tell a person’s dominant language.

“Well, the language we spoke in Ghana doesn’t really have swear words.”

I exclaimed that I didn’t believe him. But he insisted. I found this exceedingly odd.

“So what do people say when they’re really upset? ‘My, I am feeling extremely angry at the moment!  Just so angry my head may detach from my skull and then slowly implode over the next few minutes as you watch in horror.'”  .....His only concession was that there is an equivalent of “Oh my goodness!”

Breaking news: They’ve found a cure for GERD in Ghana!

Must be, because after you’ve been puked on several times a day for several months, you INVENT swear words.

(Incidentally, his son is eleven months old and also has GERD. Anything but liquids makes him gag and puke. “And we try to let him cry it out at night in his crib, but he gets so upset that he pukes…” Aghhhh! Doesn’t that sound familiar?!)

What I found particularly soothing at the tournament was the complete absence of human beings under the age of four or so. A friend of ours actually brought her 16 month-old boy into the stadium during one of the day matches - and promptly got kicked out the first time he yelped. I wouldn’t even try that with Benjamin. He would let loose with one of his Senseless Shrieks just as Federer launched his tie-breaker serve, I’m sure.