All these serious posts lately….and I’m not really a serious girl.
So, let me lighten the mood.
One word: golf.
You see I am not really a detail kind of girl.
More often than not my socks don’t match. My posts (and all other written correspondences) are filled with typos and misspellings.
And I see the speed limit as more of a suggestion to me than an actual value that I think I am supposed to stay under…
But golf is kind of a detail sport.
I think the whole point is accuracy.
Not, just to hit the ball as hard as you can. Who knew?
In college I used to work at PuttPutt and figured this made me a professional golfer of sorts. I can putt through a freakin windmill, surely I can land a ball on the green. (turns out that is faulty logic).
So I bought clubs and played with Shaun a few times.
I thought years ago ( before kids), that if I learned to play it would be something we could do together.
Until he tried to actually “instruct” me on how to swing.
Teachers are the worst students.
Especially if we have a big ass golf club in our hands.
There was also the crazy lingo ( birdie, bogie, eagle…what the heck?)
The only word I need to know is “mulligan”.
Also there is all that secret golf etiquette.
Like not to step on someone’s line.
I don’t see any damn lines!
So, lets just say this I’ll learn to play golf phase so we can do it together thing didn’t last long.
I’m also not so sure about any sport that wants you to wear collared shirts and khakis.
I barely do that to work.
But, then my parents came in town and wanted to play.
My parents aren’t really athletes.
Well, my dad can play a mean game of ping pong and my mom can kick everyone in the family’s tail at Wii hula hoop…..but that is about the extent of their athletic abilities.
They must have grown tired of their sailing phase, and cooking club phase, country and western dancing phase and have now moved on to another socially acceptable senior activity….golf.
So Shaun gets us a tee time , I dust off my clubs ( literally) and put on my khakis.
I mentioned that me and Shaun had played a few times, but he had totally been holding out on me. This time we got carts!
I would pay a green fee just to drive those fun little carts around all day.
Shaun was super patient and mostly held his tongue.
There was cussing.
There were lost balls, dropped balls, completely missed balls, and sand traps. Lots of sand traps. There was even a dog bite. ( don’t ask Shaun about this part). But, next time you consider hopping a fence to retrieve a golf ball……you might just want to take the drop instead. ( a drop…look, I’m learning the lingo J).
Two hours later we had only made it through hole 5, and the real golfers behind us were getting a little impatient ( and yes, we had already let some people play through).
So we drove our cute little carts back to the clubhouse.
On the way home, I asked Shaun when we could play again. And he about drove off the road.
(some final thoughts on my whole half experiment coming soon……..)
So, let me lighten the mood.
One word: golf.
You see I am not really a detail kind of girl.
More often than not my socks don’t match. My posts (and all other written correspondences) are filled with typos and misspellings.
And I see the speed limit as more of a suggestion to me than an actual value that I think I am supposed to stay under…
But golf is kind of a detail sport.
I think the whole point is accuracy.
Not, just to hit the ball as hard as you can. Who knew?
In college I used to work at PuttPutt and figured this made me a professional golfer of sorts. I can putt through a freakin windmill, surely I can land a ball on the green. (turns out that is faulty logic).
So I bought clubs and played with Shaun a few times.
I thought years ago ( before kids), that if I learned to play it would be something we could do together.
Until he tried to actually “instruct” me on how to swing.
Teachers are the worst students.
Especially if we have a big ass golf club in our hands.
There was also the crazy lingo ( birdie, bogie, eagle…what the heck?)
The only word I need to know is “mulligan”.
Also there is all that secret golf etiquette.
Like not to step on someone’s line.
I don’t see any damn lines!
So, lets just say this I’ll learn to play golf phase so we can do it together thing didn’t last long.
I’m also not so sure about any sport that wants you to wear collared shirts and khakis.
I barely do that to work.
But, then my parents came in town and wanted to play.
My parents aren’t really athletes.
Well, my dad can play a mean game of ping pong and my mom can kick everyone in the family’s tail at Wii hula hoop…..but that is about the extent of their athletic abilities.
They must have grown tired of their sailing phase, and cooking club phase, country and western dancing phase and have now moved on to another socially acceptable senior activity….golf.
So Shaun gets us a tee time , I dust off my clubs ( literally) and put on my khakis.
I mentioned that me and Shaun had played a few times, but he had totally been holding out on me. This time we got carts!
I would pay a green fee just to drive those fun little carts around all day.
Shaun was super patient and mostly held his tongue.
There was cussing.
There were lost balls, dropped balls, completely missed balls, and sand traps. Lots of sand traps. There was even a dog bite. ( don’t ask Shaun about this part). But, next time you consider hopping a fence to retrieve a golf ball……you might just want to take the drop instead. ( a drop…look, I’m learning the lingo J).
Two hours later we had only made it through hole 5, and the real golfers behind us were getting a little impatient ( and yes, we had already let some people play through).
So we drove our cute little carts back to the clubhouse.
On the way home, I asked Shaun when we could play again. And he about drove off the road.
(some final thoughts on my whole half experiment coming soon……..)
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