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....

And Just Let Me Say This About That....

Regarding golf. I have much to say but will try to keep it to a minimum.


I find it an ongoing challenge to keep from breaking into a primal scream every time Mr. Snooty or any other man tries to tell me what I'm doing wrong or better yet, what I should be doing. But, I am the poster child for restraint here. I realize full well that men are from Mars and women are from Venus, and that we are worlds apart. I wasn't always the picture of restraint. It used to make me crazy and nearly resulted in Mr. Snooty & I never playing together again.


Until I realized the poor dear creature couldn't help himself. It's in his DNA. Bless his pointed little head, I do love him so. Which is why I decided to begin ignoring approximately 65 to 70% of his well meant remarks about my game. If he were even remotely within vicinity of being a good golfer, I might reconsider, but hey - let's call a spade a spade. He plays golf with a man body and I play golf with a woman body and we play about the same. Aside from Anika Sorenstam, very few women can compete on a man's level professionally. I'm not even talking about ballpark vicinity of that. We are hackers. Both of us.


Of course, each of us has days of total clarity on the course, although few & far between, but we each relish in whatever we can cling to. So... Why is it that I never feel compelled to say things like "Honey, you just looked up, that's all"? or "You just raised up, babe." or "You keep your head down honey, and I'll watch the ball." or "You just need to calm down & quit worrying about everything. Relax." or "Oh, you just need to follow through on your shots." or "You can't 3 putt, babe." or "You just didn't have that lined up straight." or "Whoa! That one's way too fast. What were you thinking?" or "Well, you don't want to be short." or a gazillion other sayings that make me want to scream. I've learned to be tolerant now, but I still long to utter those very phrases to Mr. Snooty. Sometimes, at least. But, being the woman that I am, I constantly hold my tongue in check.


Now, we do have one friend that is part of a couple we play with often, that I always listen to. He's a very good golfer & has helped my putting more than any man alive. I worship him. But, he is really good, so he has the right to tell me things, and I have the right to ignore them, which I seldom do. However, his wife hates the pointers, which I, of course, understand full well.


Which brings me to the days I play with my best golfing girlfriends. I cherish those days and we always have a blast playing together. There is no competition (other than each of us against the course) and there is no critiquing. We try each other's new clubs & we take turns teeing off first and we have waaay more fun than the guys could ever imagine. We have cocktails when we feel like it and we giggle a lot and we ache for one another's bad shots & we cheer for one another's splendid shots. It truly becomes a completely different game than the one played with the male counterparts included.





Let me just say this about that..... we might not be as serious about the game as the men are, but we sure have more fun. ;-)