Friday August 5, 2016 - FORE!
My humans are sleeping, but I know they want to pet me. The maternal one moved! I must go let her pet me. HUMAN!
I am here! PURRRRR! Let me rub your face! Why isn't she petting me? I am HERE!
Paternal one, how about you? I
can't believe they aren't petting me.
Guess I will take a nap.
What an incredible night sky here. DARK!
With a whole lot of stars.
Absolutely beautiful.
This morning, we are heading over to the golf course. I get my clubs out. I get my golf cart out of the truck. Wait a sec... it is missing a piece! IT IS BROKEN!
ARGH! I can't be without my push
cart! POTTY MOUTH! I go ask if they have carts for walkers. NO!
This is a catastrophe! Golf is a
mental game, and walking is part of my mental health. If I know a course does not allow me to walk,
I adjust my mental approach going into it and I am ok. But here?
With no warning? I have just
turned into a mentally retarded, autistic midget! My IQ has just dropped 100 points, I can't
breathe and it is too early for chocolate or alcohol!
But wait, they have a couple of little pull carts under some
table somewhere. They will try and find
them. They found me one. Kind of simple but it will allow me to walk
the course. I can breathe again...
You have to understand... Spouse and I argue about me
bringing my pushcart. He says all
courses have them and I don't need to bring mine. So, he ekes by on this one as I got lucky
they were able to find me one and dust it off!
But I would rather have mine with my tees and water slot. And now he is perturbed that he has to drag
my cart around for no reason!
As I start walking with my rinky dink pull cart, I feel like
I should be yoked next to an ox so that we could pull the cart through the
grass! This is a long course, the grass
is thick and pulling clubs is going to be one hell of a workout. My pushcart would be a lot easier, but it is
what it is and I forge on.
This is a beast of a course.
It takes a few holes, but we finally figured out that if you think you
need a 9 iron, use an 8 iron or 7 iron instead.
If a hole says it is 350 yards, it will play like 450. And the 600 yard par 5... really?
It took me 6 really good shots to get to the green! And whatever you do, DON'T BELIEVE THE YARDAGE! That 117 yard par 3??? I nailed the shot with my 130 yard club, and was
still 50 yards shy! With the thick
grass, there was virtually no roll on the long clubs, and the first cut of the
rough was tougher then velcro. I did
manage 2 pars, but once again, another round of golf without a hole in one! And I swear they must be stealing water from
Oregon as the course was nice and wet.
I did allow Spouse to take my clubs for me a couple of times
when there was a good distance between holes.
One sign said the next hole was 300 yards... HAH! I would say it is closer to 900 yards! Spouse hit a few shots into the chapparal...
POTTY MOUTH! Not our best scores by any
stretch of the imagination..
After all that, of course we enjoyed it! Duh!
We finished by noon, and Spouse did the laundry from his
head mishap of yesterday. We gave Rudy
some outside time but he is done after a short time and wants back in his safe
place, where he can affectionately beg for food. We are cutting his food portion, and we have
switched to a lighter mix. Seems he has
been getting supplemented back home so he is on a diet. We shall see...
Cool outside this evening.
How novel! And what a night
sky...
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