As I sat emailing people about making canvases… checking on colors and styles and sayings… I had a revelation.
I still have a blog to write!
Usually I try to write a post on Saturday so I know I have at least one ready for the week… just in case I have a day when I’m not up to writing (that’s about as non-procrastinating as I get). Then I start in a regular routine on Sunday of writing for Monday’s post. But even if I don’t get a Saturday post written, rarely am I sitting here at 7:30 on Sunday night needing to finish the blog so I can watch Desperate Housewives and Brothers & Sisters.
This girl has priorities. Rob Lowe being one of them.
But let’s be real: emailing and organizing canvases did not consume my entire weekend. A huge chunk of my time was taken up (wasted) because I was watching golf. You heard me: golf.
It’s Tiger’s fault, really. He came back to the game, and even when he’s not in fighting form he’s entertaining as all get-out to watch. And there’s just something about the game that is so soothing to me. The sun is almost always shining in their magical land of golf… the grass is always green, there are beautiful water (hazards) and beachy sand (traps). And the entire time in this little paradise, people whisper their opinions and play-by-plays in a way that nearly lulls me to sleep.
For a girl who has never played a round of golf in her entire life, I have a bit of an obsession with it anyway. Maybe I can appreciate the relaxing qualities because I’ve never experienced the aggravation of a missed putt or a drive landing in the rough. Or maybe it’s because I’ve only ever swung a golf club twice in my life, and the result was near perfection. The bug bit me, and I just quit while I was ahead.
Back in the summer of 1997, my whole family was home for the weekend to go to my cousin’s wedding. It was gorgeous August weather, and my brother Hoody and sister Janette had brought their clubs home in case they had time to hit the golf course. Instead, they got out their clubs to practice in the yard and instantly had a group of little people wanting a chance to show off their skills.
I, of course, was in charge of the camera and got some cute shots of what was starting to look like a golf clinic for munchkins. They may have needed some work, but dang they were cute.
At one point, after all the little ones were done with their lessons, I asked Hoody to show me how to swing. He gave me a basic rundown… hold the club like this; keep this arm straight; this arm bent; follow through; head down.
So I planted my feet, wiggled my tush and hit the ball straight, long and directly out into the cornfield.
My brother was annoyed.
“Do that again” was the instant response… muttering under his breath and mumbling, “Can’t do that twice” one or two times. He put the ball on the tee and I drove it straight out into the cornfield again.
I might have strutted a little bit just for good measure. And then I quit while I was at the top of my game. I had learned my lesson when we went bowling for gym class in high school. I had never bowled before, and when I picked up the ball and rolled it down the lane that first time, I got a strike. But it was all downhill after that!
The real reason I never golfed again was because I was already having pain issues and the swing was not kind to my back… but it was still fun knowing I could do it. I really should try to learn more of the rules of the game I enjoy watching so much, though. A few years back I did learn, when driving a beer cart for a golf tournament put on by my church, that there are courtesy rules. Like not driving the cart on the greens. And not yelling and waving hello to people you know.
The whispering announcers may be relaxing on television, but from past experience I could surely teach them how to liven up the game a bit. :)