Well, Color Me Happy! My Team Somehow Pulled Off First Place...

This morning amidst a steady, light rain, my team and I teed off at 9:15 AM with great trepidation. There was loud thunder off to the left and off to the right, but we never saw any lightning, so play was never interrupted. I thought that we'd surely hear the sirens from the clubhouse, but they never sounded. We played on, thinking that we were going to have the worst score of all the teams because we were all playing horribly. The air was so heavy you could have cut it with a knife and the balls weren't going as far as they should have. I found myself having to *club up* on nearly every shot and every shot seemed to play out like a game of craps.

Today was another *shamble* with two *net balls* instead of only one, like we had yesterday. The teams were different too, but once again, I made out like a bandit and scored an awesome team of players. Today I only had one Eagle, 2 Birdies and 3 Pars. Boo Hoo! (whatever!) It was great and I enjoyed the entire tournament thoroughly.

However, today, with the all the wet weather, I had to dress for the rain and knew my hair would get soaked, which makes me resemble a wet rat. It's not pretty, but I didn't care. I was there to play real golf today, with real diehard players and it was such a great feeling being a winner for once. I could seriously get used to this.

I also had an epiphany. I like playing with everyone but my own Mr. Snoots. I know. It sounds really mean, doesn't it? But honestly, the man cannot quit telling me what I'm doing wrong the entire time we play together. Everyone else praises me for every shot and every putt, good or bad, which somehow makes me (or allows me) to play better. If Mr. Snoots could just figure this out we'd be great together. But, alas, I fear he cannot and will not ever be able to be different. This will certainly limit our time playing golf together.

The only thing that really ruffled my feathers a bit today, was the two men on our team insisted on telling me precisely where to putt my ball. You know. Like I didn't have the sense to do it on my own. Yesterday, I sank 16 of 18 putts. Today, I sank 5 putts out of 18. Hmmmmm… There's your sign, huh?

When someone insists on telling you where to putt, I think they have no idea how they are undermining your play, but they are. Of course, they think they are being oh-so-helpful, but it's almost insulting when (without invitation) they say, "Firm stroke right here to this spot." For me, it's like the freaking *kiss of death* and then I usually rocket launch my 3 foot putt to destinations unknown. Thanks a lot guys, but I think I can handle this all on my own, unless you'd like for me to line YOUR putts up for you....