To set a picture let me begin by explaining that I despise the game of golf. I live on a golf course, and have for ump-teen years, yet never once have I picked up some clubs and given it a go. My father is a religious golfer and, although he would not admit it, watches it nearly as avidly on television. The week of the Masters you know where to find him... glued to the tube, if he isn't personally in attendence at the course. It never ceases to amaze me that people actually watch the game, let alone play it. This information would all be completely irrelevant to anyone, and probably still is, until about 5 hours ago.
Our tee-time was at 6 pm. I'm not sure how I ended up there but at 6:04 I found myself standing next to a golf cart, dressed in khaki and tennis shoes, clubs swung over my shoulder, watching Jason and Dewy practice putt. Cripes. Not only was I about to venture into the epitomy of boredom, I was to be accompanied by a pro and a semi-pro (no offense Jason). Let the games begin.
I soon discovered that I had a hidden talent. No lie. Don't go assuming I was anything amazing because that information would be completely false, however, I did manage to keep up with the boys. Par, bogie, double bogie, par... I managed to stay afloat during the game, saved my dignity (mostly), and never had to mulligan... at least I don't think I did. I still don't know what that means.
I have realized now that if I am not careful I could get addicted to the game. I also discovered that Jason has a dirty mouth, Dewy drinks like a camel, and the 5 iron is my club of choice. I hate when I'm wrong. Blast.
1 thoughts:
Good for you! Do not invite me... I don't do the gym... obviously.. and I don't golf. Love always.
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