Your own time... shared time.. twisting Bab's words, 'People who chose people are the luckiest people in the world.
TGIF, thank goodness it's friends. Adventure, excitement, relaxation.. I mean come on, you're sitting in an E-Z-GO golf cart, how fun is that?
I dunno whatintheheck bunko is, but this much I remember.. gal I was dating went, weekly, came home, usually weakly. So, after a few years of that, they finally changed the name to LDC (lady's drinking club) as they never played bunko in the first place, or, mebbe the generation before them did, dunno.
I am not mechanically inclined. At all.
I'm not a book club kinda person. I love to read a newspaper, flip thru the yuck, devour the good stuff, but nope, ain't no Dewey Decimal Paperback Writer/Reader/Reviewer.
I do enjoy golf. Well, I enjoy anything, everything, in and around golf, sometimes the golf itself sucks. Ya get four people, ya learn all about 'em, even when you've known them since they was knee high to a Schnauzer.
We bet a dollar. Please don't tell Homeland Security, the FBI, CIA, Clay County Sheriffs, or the Holt Volunteer Deputies. Sometimes, when you lose a dolla' to onea your best friends, again and again and again, next time, you pay him with 4 quarters. Or mebbe two rolls of pennies. Or perhaps a dollar that's been scotchtaped (poorly) back together.
You hear fun stuff like, (on a 95 degree day) "I'm glad you parked the cart where at least you're in the shade, I'll be OK though, don't worry about me." "You know, they do make these cart paths wide enough that all four wheels will fit on them."
"I had a 3 and you wrote down a 4? You gave yourself a 3 and you had a 4. You did that two weeks ago too. Can you even add?" It was just at this point, the patience of the score writer downer had waned. The "can't you even add" challenger, for 76 consecutive weeks, was late to the golf course, usually 20 minutes or so after tee time, so, the score writer downer replied, "Yes, I CAN add... you, however, can't even tell time." Ahhhhh relaxation, what better!
We usually play 'this cart against that cart', ie, two man teams. "DID YOU SEE THAT? DID YOU SEE THAT? He picked up! That putt wasn't no gimme (a term for conceding a putt to someone if the distance to the hole is 'inside-the'leather', ie, not to exceed the distance from the bottom of the grip, to the putter clubhead. "THAT PUTT WASN'T NO GIMME!" Remember, E-Z-GO, one dolla' bet. Ahhh chillaxin.
"He on fire!" said complimentary to your opponent when he's kicking your butt. It is hoped, said compliment will mess with their mind, as in, "You jinxed me!" and, you par a hole, birdie a hole, get back in the game.
"I think your ball carried into the 'She-shed'." The She-shed is strategically placed halfway thru the golf course, behind the 10th green, about as far as you can be to the clubhouse <--the only place with a restroom has actual plumbing. Certainly no plumbing in She-shed, it's an old pumphouse. It's rumored, the She-shed is the lady's Pee-shed though. Can't be sure. "Oh, wait, yes, there's my Titleist, P-U, whew, I think they really do."
Speakinowhich, we men have trees. Well, 'cepting the first 5 holes, they're lined with houses, so, no can pee on any of those. Ever eat a pine tree? No, that ain't it. We pee. By trees. Please don't tell, especially Homeland Security, the FBI, CIA, Clay County Sheriffs, or the Holt Volunteer Deputies. Serious though, true story, you can be put on the sexual offender list if you pee by a tree on the golf course, I turd you knot, I mean not.
"Hey ____ (enter name of late guy here, he abhors social media) can you stop at the clubhouse before we start, I can't pee on the course until the 6th hole." 'You idiot, you pee on #2 every time we play." Well, yeah, I guess I do. There is one spot, if you sneak in the woods 3', you will not be observed by Gladys Kravitz.
"Say, (right before guy hits) Do you ever see ole' ________" (enter golfing opponent's old HS GF name here, it'll mess up his game.
We talk about grandkids, great kids, sometimes not-so-good kids, "the old lady", which, is fancy for "yes honey" when together. Knees, hips, plantar fasciitis, bursitis, arthritis, shoulders, where to buy the best electric body massager, Medicare, I don't care, electric cars, Repubs, Dems, sports that ain't golf, did you hear about so-and-so, remember when we.........,"no, she lived two doors down from the Smiths", "What's a Yuengling?" We NEVER talk about women playing on an adjacent hole, or their body parts, I swear we NEVER talk about them on any day that doesn't end in Y. Oink.
We talk lovingly, truly, about friends no longer on Earth. We keep 'em alive, so to speak. We relax, we tease, we hurt, we feel good, we need this. We have a beer, maybe two, and sit on the back deck to enjoy nature, getting away from the fast pace of retirement, camaraderie works, very, very nicely.
We realize, golf, like life, ain't forever, thus, we play as often as we can. (Except for the sissies that hate the hot, cold, rain, wet, wind, stuff like that.) Our friendships go beyond our foursome at the course. Other golfers, the clubhouse workers, the maintenance guys, have all, become our friends, our 'go to' when relaxation is needed, wanted, obtained.
Add it all up, it's a good thing. YOU CAN'T ADD! And YOU CAN'T TELL TIME! Speakinowhich, it's time to go, be 'fore' I bore ya or maybe tee ya off. Golf is a win win, even when you don't. Easy to go to. E-Z-GO.
It's our Wendy Wino, Carl Craftsman, Bookworm Betty.
And yes, I've a big keyboard, as in, TMI, Victor you talk too much. That said, there is MUCH I can't, don't, won't share, so, put your imagination hats on here. Some of it's pretty good and even really fun, funny!
Putt putt, to the Pizza Hut,
Love, Victurd
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