Along for the Ride

Golf, like the measles, should be caught young, 

for, if postponed to riper years,

 the results may be serious.

  ~P.G. Wodehouse, A Mixed Threesome, 1922

I think I'd rather have the measles. I hate being bad at things. I'm bad at golf (and dance, as I've already established this week).

I know that if I had diligently practiced golf like Randy has done the past few years, I'd be better now. But it's better for my blood pressure and mental health to just be along for the ride. 

When the golfing bug bit Randy, he soon bought me a used set of left-handed women's clubs. Brent laughed. Yep, that's right. He laughed.

I wanted to prove him wrong. I really did. But I guess I didn't want it badly enough to practice. I'm much more willing to go along for the random photo op.

Randy is a smart man. Though he bought me the women's clubs, he didn't attempt to teach me. He had me go to a session with a pro at Carey Park in Hutchinson. However, I think Phyllis Diller had it right:

The reason the pro tells you to keep your head down

is so you can't see him laughing.

  ~Phyllis Diller

Randy took a similar philosophy when he took me snow skiing on our honeymoon. I had never been skiing before. He had. I had a day on the bunny slopes with a class of other beginners. Little kids who came up to my knees whizzed around me while I sweated profusely in my quest to keep upright and move down the hill without bodily harm.  I tell him that he's lucky I went back the next day and that we survived the honeymoon.

 So he seems to be fine with my perch in the passenger seat of the golf cart. 

It's probably better for marital accord. And I certainly don't mind the view.

(Photos taken during a June golf outing at the Stafford County Country Club. It's probably less green now.)