I'm Almost Back... But I'm Having Golf Therapy Today

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Yes, I'm *almost* back to blogging, but thought it best to make a slow re-entry. I'm still in the midst of barking bronchitis and coughing up chunks of my lungs, or so it often seems. The coughs shake me to the very core of my being and each one takes up to a minute or so to recover from. I shit you not. Don't get me started on the chunks I'm coughing up. It's not an attractive sight.

I've got unbearable cabin fever after having been confined to this prison I call home, for almost two whole weeks now. I need to get out and enjoy the 85 degree weather that is undeniably announcing the arrival of Spring. My lovely bed and bedding became all too familiar and I've seen every movie known to Americans (with a few international films thrown in), at least ten times each. Arrrrrgh!

I got out for the first time yesterday and went to the post office, then came home. Woo hoo! Big outing for me. I finally mailed the silver plate nightmare of a revolving tureen. Good riddance! If she isn't happy and sends it back, then I'm seriously done with it. Screw it! I spent four days polishing that monstrosity and if I ever see it again, something very ugly is likely to happen. Like death by car tires. Don't for one minute think I'm joking. I spent four days on that fucker. Four days that I did nothing else but sit at the kitchen table and polish that son of a bitch, so if the buyer isn't happy with it, then she can send it back to my friend and I'll refund her money. I. Am. So. Done. With. It.

It seriously makes me want to get rid of every piece of silver plate that I own (all wedding presents & inherited pieces, I assure you). I even allowed Mr. Snoots to give it a go and he gave up after four hours, exhausted. Never. Again.

So, you surely understand why I'm in severe need of some golf therapy. Today is my last day of antibiotics and cough medicine, so I'm taking that as a Green Light For Go. I need to get out on the links with my trusty old golf clubs, feel the wind in my hair, and do my best to chase around the tiny little ball with my tiny little clubs. Yes, apparently, I'm a glutton for all number of punishments, but I've had my fill of the indoor type for now, thank you.

This is where Mr. Snoots and I will be playing tomorrow... Our Golf Club. I've missed hacking around on the course and the weather has been like early summer already. While I've been hacking away at my coughing in the meantime, it seems the course is already greening up with all the warm weather. Which leaves me wondering what happened to our winter? And if one person says its due to Global Warming I will call that person and scream SHRIEK loudly into their ear.

Did I mention my New Year's Resolution about not cussing on my blog has gone to the big New Year's Resolution Heaven In The Sky? But, I suppose you already figured that one out by yourselves, huh? If you don't like it then you just need to go away. Forever. I've got to be me and I honestly don't have time for any more bullshit....

Baby, I've got some living to do and don't have time for small minded people. I mean, who does have time for that, really? Talk to you and be reading you soon!

Does Anyone Remember When I Swore I'd Never Play In Another Golf Tournament? Evidently I lied...

Yes, we are leaving today for a public course up on the other side of Abilene, to play in a small tournament of around 8 to 10 couples. So, when I stated that I would not be playing in any more tournaments, I was apparently lying. Being a woman, I can, of course, change my feeble mind whenever & wherever I feel like it. It's a woman's perrogative.

So, we've loaded the 4-Runner with both of our golf bags and all of the extra accoutrements required to appear as if we know what the Hell we're doing. We don't. Let me just clarify that right away. You know... just in case there is someone out there in the blogosphere that doesn't already know this.

Luckily, our tournament organizer (the friend I play with on Wednesdays & Fridays) has been kind enough to make our tee times for 8:30 in the morning, both Saturday & Sunday. I also adore this course. In my mind's eye, we're looking at a win win situation here. Sure, I'm probably totally delusional, but the best part is that... No Matter What... we don't play with our own spouses. That right there raises my win-ability factor a few hundred notches. Don't laugh.. It Could Happen. In a perfect world anyway.

The course is one of the prettiest courses in Texas that I've ever had the pleasure to play. They keep it groomed to perfection and it is truly a visual feast. It is not an easy course, by any means, but it's a challenge and it's fun. Granted, I have heat induced Tourette's Syndrome, but all of the players are well aware of this and seem to be completely tolerant of my affliction. Actually, around a dozen people dropped out of the tournament at the last minute, but I'm sure that has nothing to do with me since I'm no threat to anyone. Unless they cannot stand to hear worse cuss words than a sailor spews. Yes, I'm feminine like that. Or perhaps not. Just consider me an inigma, because I am, you know. Everyone seemingly knows my Modus Operatus, so there shouldn't be any looks of surprise if & when I drop a few dozen F-Bombs. It's always good to be among friends.

You'll love this part, I think. We are staying at Motel Hell, but, since we've been there before, we are prepared. One friend is bringing his big ass smoker/grill. Everyone is bringing a plentiful supply of liquor (meaning vodka & whiskey) and food. We will all show up with plenty of good music and CD players with which to play the music. We basically take over the entire motel and woe be unto the poor unsuspecting person who decides to stay there for a night of quiet contemplation & sleep. That won't be happening. Each motel room is equipped with a small fridge, which, along with all of our ice filled coolers, should be more than adequate. None of us travel lightly when it comes to libations & cuisine.

Friday night, as everyone is arriving, sandwiches, appetizers and cocktails will be plentiful. On Saturday night, there will be a major meat fest, with beef tenderloins on the menu. They would have to beat me away with a stick huge tree limb in order to keep me from eating our planned cuisine. It's actually like an enormous tailgate party... only much better. We're all ruthless food snobs, no matter the location or the fare. Out of the entire group, there are only two who don't cook.

So, I do promise to take as many pictures as sobriety allows or doesn't allow. I might get 2 or 3 pictures. Then again, I might get as many as 20. It all depends on the mood I'm in at the time. It also might depend on whether or not I can focus the camera and shoot. Time will tell, so get over it. I SWEAR I'm going to have fun this time. Really. I promised, didn't I?