We started an hour earlier this morning than we did two weeks ago. And maybe that helped with the heat for the first two holes. The high was 90. We were riding. And I was sweating. But we had a fine time.
The ground crew kept getting ahead of us. They were mowing and treating the greens and turning on the sprinklers, which was funny:
And then annoying:
And then, finally, oh-so-pleasant.
No, no, I’ll finish this hole out with a three-putt. I don’t mind standing here for a second.
This will come as a shock to no one, but I’m terrible at golf. I enjoy the quiet atmosphere and the pleasant landscaping. And the super, super long course we were playing. I am mystified how I can use the same club on three consecutive swings and get one decent result and two abysmal efforts. I can hit a straight ball, but I can’t aim. I will two- and three-putt everything. I hit the pin twice on puts that rolled out and through today.
And I also got a nice par. I think that’s the same hole I parred last time out.
You remember things like that. But you remember the time with an old friend even more. You file the chuckles away and wonder how you’ve changed and how you haven’t over the years. You wonder why you are still terrible at golf.
You enjoy the surprises life gives you:
