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Diesel vs. Kelly

One day, Diesel asked me:  “Kelly, why are you always competing against me?”

Now you’re probably wondering why he asked me such a question.  I have been wondering that myself too, seeing that I’m such a supportive wife who always strikes his ego and made his desirability-stock shoot up after he married me.

Perhaps he asked this question  because of the time I vowed to “crush him.”  In Vietnam, we would play canasta with Mom and Dad Sale pretty much every night.  We also ate lots of cheese, drank wine and gorged on the family size Doritos and Cheetos bags they brought us.  Anyhow, so it was always Mom and Diesel against Dad and me.  The matches were pretty even.  Until one day, when the pile in the middle started getting really big.  It was clear to everybody that whoever got their hands on the pile would win the hand and eventually the whole game.  We were trying at any cost to keep the other team from taking the pile, even throwing wild cards, which made the pile more valuable.  The stakes were high.   I thought about it.  After reluctantly throwing all my wild cards in the pile, I tried my luck.  No luck.  Mom picked up the pile and scored like 1,000 points.  I was in shock, disbelief, ANGER.  I ripped all the cards off of Diesel’s hands and screamed”  “why didn’t you throw out THIS card?  That’s the one i needed!”  And then I vowed:  “I will CRUSH you!!!”  Mom was stunned.  Dad laughed so hard, he started crying.  And crush him I did.  I taught him a new Brazilian game that we played several times in Phuket.  I won every single time, I crushed him every single time, like I had planned to.

Or perhaps  it was because of that time we played tennis.  Now, you must be  asking yourself:  “I didn’t know Tim or Kelly played tennis.”  You are, dear reader, absolutely right.  We don’t.  But once, we did.  Once, in the safety of our marriage and thousands of miles away from anybody we knew, we flaunted our ineptitude at each other, playing a game of tennis.

Picture this: Australia, 2009.  Diesel and Kelly in the tennis court of a trailer park.  Free rackets.  Rain.  Kelly wearing pink Tevas (which I admit, are not as attractive as the cute pleated skirts most female tennis players wear).  Diesel wearing his ugly (though, again, as good wife, I’ve lead him to believe they are super cool) trekking/walking/running/dress-up/and now tennis playing shoes. Diesel and I were simply trying to hit the ball back and forth, but when Diesel tried to spike the ball (or whatever you call it in fancy tennis talk), I got mad.  Yeah, even though I myself was trying to beat his ass, or at least trying to  be not as bad as he was and spiking the ball myself.  Which is pretty ironic…or maybe hypocritical, depending on your point of view.  When Diesel got closer to the net, like we’ve seen people do on TV, I would try to spike it real hard on his head like I‘ve seen on TV (not in real tennis matches, but rather, in cartoons).  We never kept score, but I’d like to think that I won that match.

Come to think of it, perhaps it was the time we went running around Greenlake and he took off and smoked me even though I run (or at least used to) run consistently.  He met me at the end of the loop, proud, smile on his face.  “Why did you leave me?” I demanded to know.  “I knew you were gonna make it!  You’re a good runner.  Aren’t you proud of me?”

“I am NOT proud of you,” was my reply.

And then there are other little things like:

“Diesel, why are you walking faster than me?”

“Diesel, why do you have more friends on Facebook than me?“

(or when we took our written diving exam)  “Diesel, why do you always get 100% on your tests, you nerd?”

Anyhow, I’d like to believe that you must love your partner and your partner should make you want to be a better person.  And Diesel, you do that for me!


2 Responses

  1. loved this.

  2. LOL, miss you guys tremendously. love the pics and stories. big hugs, em

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