on golf

Once I thought the game of golf was beyond dumb, knocking a little ball into a hole in the ground?  Seriously?  To be a sport, I tried it once before and it was frustrating and seemingly hopeless.  The people I played with suggested I try playing left-handed……

I am predominately a lefty, but really, sports and recreational activities I do with my right hand (baseball, bowling, knitting, sewing) although tennis and badminton can go either way.  The left hand is for writing, eating, tooth-brushing.  So, from that experience, I pretty much wrote off my ability to ever play golf.  Besides, it was a stupid game, right?

Last weekend, I tried, really tried, playing golf, many years after that first attempt.  This development came after a pretty successful trip to the driving range, surprising both me and the boyfriend, who happens to be a crackerjack golfer.  The balls I hit off the tee went pretty far and in a straight line.  I decided to try and learn the game, so we can have a shared pastime , since he will never bloody likely go snow skiing, and I will probably not be inclined to waterski.

We went to a par-3 course, which had, by the way, 2 holes that were par 4, making the par score for the course 29.  BF, naturally, was right there in that range.  My score was more like 72, and that was with multiple forgiven bad tee-offs.  I had to grit my teeth and bite out curses a couple of times, but managed to hang in there for all nine holes, and I actually enjoyed it, in spite of the heat and humidity and frustration.  The game is SO frustrating that any success whatsoever is cause for celebration, but I can now see that it will be worthwhile to play enough to gain some skill and confidence.  Photo above, by the way, was taken AFTER the round, and that’s me, still smiling.

At the driving range, thinking of going all the way around a course seemed pretty daunting.  Now at the par-3 course, a “real” course feels like an insurmountable obstacle.  It’s all about perspective!  Concentration!  Focus!

Having turned my nose up at the idea of using a cart (why spoil a good walk?) I see their value:  shade.  You get plenty of walking, going from the tee-off place to the green and back and forth to the cart for different clubs and all.  And I like jogging to the next place early in the round.  I hope to get strong arms, increased trunk mobility and core strength, flexibility, endurance, and the ability to make that incredibly satisfying snapping sound when you hit the ball just right.

The golf course is not a standardized playing field, and the course is definitely a character in the drama of a game.  The par-3 course that was my maiden outing was far tamer than one we “walked” while visiting my hometown of Southwick, Massachusetts, Longhi Golf Course.  That beast was situated over hill and dale and was simply frightening.  Smyrna golf–much more reasonable.  It’s right by a little airport, and featured some birdwatching opportunities as well as a nice, flat, relatively easy game of golf.  I was delighted to see a Northern Kingbird fluttering over the grass snatching insects out of the air.

Longhi had a sweet little putt-putt course that we played, too.  I honestly think that sinking a hole in one on the very first hole profoundly affected my newfound positive outlook on the game of golf.  Now, THAT was thrilling, and isn’t that what we’re all looking for out there on the links?

employed? me?

Hate to even let this cat out of its bag, for fear of the jinx, but I am registered for orientation, have filled out paperwork, and have a start date.  I have a job!  and a job for which I think I will be well-suited, a job that was offered to me right at the interview, and a job I hope I will keep until I am able to retire, should that day ever come.

Not even going to say any more, except how incredibly grateful and humbled I am by this opportunity.

My life these days feels as though I am already retired.  I’ve visited, shopped, cooked, worked in the yard, had company, travelled, finished up projects, started new ones, caught up on business, watched a bunch of movies, read a buncha books, too.  It has been lovely the past two months, minus a stressor or two.  One more week till I start working, and you can bet I plan on enjoying it.

I’m going to play a round of golf for the first time (par 3) and am pretty psyched to see if my concentration can hold up for nine holes.  ’Cuz that’s what I’m told it’s all about.  Trying not to imagine needing fifty strokes to find the cup, thinking more like, well, three.  Ha-ha!  clubs bent over the knee!  That’s harder to do than it looks in the cartoons, I imagine.

Got family here today, and a birthday dinner to enjoy!  My baby is now thirty-two years old, if you can believe that.  So see ya!

I only wish these were my peonies…maybe next year.

home turf

Mmmmmmm, I’m going back to Massachusetts, something’s telling me I must go home…..

And that is where I spent last week with my mother and father, and the boyfriend, AKA the best sport that ever was.  We had lots of plans:  Boston, a Red Sox game, the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum (that plan was mine, I’ll admit), but ultimately we just wanted to spend time with the elder Paces.  Here are some of the highlights:

The Springfield Armory museum (big innovative gun factory in its day) and home of STCC, my AD in nursing alma mater.  Quite interesting, and we had a nice walk around campus, now bustling and updated, but the quadrangle is still there, lined with oaks and maples, dotted with dogwoods and even redbud trees.

Another day, we went to the history and art museum, featuring an enormous collection of Indian motorcycle memorabilia. Amazing.  Ben would have LOVED it.  Also an assortment of really fancy old motorcars, made by Rolls Royce, Pierce Arrow, and the like.  Indian made a prototype automobile, and it was on display.  Herb and Shirley joined us for that, and a stroll past the Dr. Seuss memorial, a cluster of brass sculptures of Horton, Thing One and Thing Two, Theodore himself sitting at his desk, and the Cat in the Hat.  Dr. S. was from Springfield, and established the city’s park (Forest Park) way back when.  I have lots of memories of the park, but did not visit this time.

We helped with some yardwork:  I turned over flower beds, and Doug cleaned out the eave troughs, known here in the South as gutters.  The weather was utterly perfect the whole week, cool and sunny and breezy.  Perfect.  And yes, at eighty-nine, my dad will still set out a bed of impatiens and other annuals to brighten the yard.  My mother can out-shop me any day, too.  They are both amazing.

Doug and my dad played a game of golf, and Doug and I played a round of miniature golf.  I got a hole in one!  Psyched!  I’m a golfer now, boy.  I’m sure I’ll be reminded that it was off a mulligan, but whatever.  It went in with one shot.  Afterwards, we walked the lovely 9-hole Longhi golf course in my hometown of Southwick, and my golf enthusiasm was pretty dampened by the daunting hills and sheer length of the holes.  Could imagine needing dozens of shots to even get to the green.

My cousin Danny, fifteen years ago, bought an old theater and did the renovations, and has been putting on plays ever since.  The Odd Couple was a perfect play for us, if you know what I mean.  We really enjoyed it!  and it was great to see Dan, who just became a proud grandfather.  He’s a playwright, too, and they’ll put on one of his works next season.  Proud of that, too.

The last day we were there, we trekked to Rhode Island to the beach, and had lunch there, walked around the little town of Point Judith.  We watched the Block Island Ferry come in.  Breathed ocean air.  Visited a state park organized around a kettle pond.  This from Wikipedia:  Kettles are fluvioglacial landforms occurring as the result of blocks of ice calving from the front of a receding glacier and becoming partially to wholly buried by glacial outwash. Glacial outwash is generated when streams of meltwater flow away from the glacier and deposit sediment to form broad outwash plains called sandurs. When the ice blocks melt, kettle holes are left in the sandur.

The photo is of a brook running through a nature preserve on Mort Vining Road, that Doug and I both walked, just at different times.  I was untroubled by the gnats and skeeters, but they ate him UP.  I took him to the Granville Gorge, too, a rocky stream and place of beauty, not to be missed.

Talk about the life in Massachusetts,
Speak about the people I have seen,
And the lights all went down in Massachusetts
And Massachusetts is one place I have seen.   (thanks, Bee Gees)

Back to job-hunting.

idle

Yes, I am.  In addition to seeking employment, I’m not doing a lot else.  Stuff costs money, right?  Glad I’ll soon have the diversion of going “home” for a visit with my folks.  Meanwhile, I thought I’m make a list of things on my mind:

I’m scared of my basement; I just don’t like going down there.  I MUST suck it up, though and make a point of going down there once a month at least to be sure things are OK in this old house.  It’s those fat, long-legged humpy crickets……

Beloved Rumer is old, too.  Her hearing is really bad, and her vision is the same.  She fell down the other day when we were walking.  It’s distressing.  I’ve started her on glucosamine to try and ease her arthritic pain; hope it helps.

I have watched HOURS of movies and such on Netflix:  the instant play list is pretty darn long.  Officially a Gleek now, too.  Good free entertainment.  Thank you!  The company has flexed to meet consumer’s needs since 1999; I joined soon after, and wish I had bought stock.  If it ever went public.

My second unemployment check is in the bank, just in time for bills.  Not that it is by any means enough.

You’d think my house would be clean, but it really isn’t.  Dis-motivated from such lofty goals.

Job applications.  Every day.

Reading The Lacuna (Barbara Kingsolver), and will watch The Last Station (about Trotsky) to see how compatible the two versions are.  Thinking big here.

I’m boring myself, can’t imagine what it’s like for you.  Onward…..

PS:  the BF is back in.