Days 8 and 9

The horses were canceled due to rain. That sucks.

We wake up to a nice breakfast and the sour news of cancelation. The kids don’t seem too shaken up - they get to play Minecraft all day! We play on and off basically all day, which means a boring blog. At time of writing I’m a bit tired, anyway. Day 8 is all this.

Day 9, early morning, we head to the golf course for the Junior league. Huxley and Callan are split into different skill groups. I follow around Callan, who’s joined by one of his friends. I pull around Lennox until he grows bored of the wagon and instead wishes to terrorize the local birds with a 7 iron. He generally stays out of the way.

Jacki actually knows how to golf so she’s giving Callan some lessons. I’m not sure how to tell her this, I’ll stay far away when she reads this blog, but she reminds me a lot of our mother. Stand like this, arms out, chest up, eyes here, feet there. Swing, down, good, okay.. good try! Lot of words. Callan hits half of the balls well, seems discontent and complains about hating golf on the other half. Later in the day, when I’m taking my first golf outing, I’ll feel the same way, Cubs. 

It's a beautiful morning with a slight overcast and a smoother temperature. Great for some morning golf with the kids. Callan gets a few good swings on the ball which lifts his spirits, by the end of the third hole he's having a plenty good time. That's good, you never want to see a six year old embarrassed or regretful. One swing in particular i SMASHED off the tee, straight down the line, with a satisfying pop that causes all the adults around to cheer. He turned and smiled, beaming with pride. That's the good stuff, formative memory stuff. I'm looking forward to more golf outings with the kids while I'm here.

After some breakfast, coffee, and announcements of the day's winners (No Wardy boys in the top 3, sadly) it was time to get our own golf outing started. I don't believe I've ever gone golfing outside of hitting the range a half dozen times throughout my life. Thankfully it's just Jacki, Brendon and myself in a group for the back nine. Kids are home with a sitter until two, we tee off around 10:30, all is well for a relaxing game where I can safely make an ass out of myself.

First shot off the tee I do exactly that. Thankfully I don't whiff the ball entirely, but it does go way off to the right onto the cart path. Next shot I recover onto the fairway, and by the end of the first hole I seem to have my bearings. 

Let's save us all the trouble here - I'm not going to rehash a round of golf. You don't want that, I don't want that. The gods themselves are relieved to hear of my restraint. I will touch on how it feels to play a round of golf and not completely suck, though. 

One good hit, that's all you need. That applies to both Callan in his junior league and the 29 year old blog-writing unemployed divorcee. On the 5th or 6th hole, second shot, I got a dead-on hit that landed me on the green in two. Pete was watching and cheered me from the sideline. I turned my head, beaming with pride. Sports have the ability to make us feel young again, for better and worse. I was tempted to say the phrase in it's usual way: "better or worse", but the two feelings cannot be separated. There's a vulnerability with sport that is necessary in order to reach those joyous peaks. After my first golf outing it's clear why it's so popular... you're out on the high wire whenever you go for a hit. Time slows down, your group sits and watches. All eyes on you, how do you deal with the pressure? For me, I tried to get out of my head the best I could. I decided to focus my mind on smells. I've gotten no instruction, no series of arm placements or shoulder rotations or leg lengths, none of that "proper swing" stuff to muddy my head. Granted, I only hit well off the tee one time, so some lessons might be in my future if I wish to level up. In terms of enjoyment, though, it's perfectly fine to simply reach a place of calm and let the ball go wherever it wants to.

When I shoot the ball off the path I sprint to it for my next shot. This is partially as a joke, part exercise, part insecurity on my pace of play. I finish with a 59 in 9 holes. My short game is garbage. I had a fantastic time.

After the round I grab a beer at the clubhouse and quickly notice the slot machine section. They call to me. I grab some cash and make my way in... Again, I won't bore you with the details. Fishing, golfing, slot machines - three wonderful activities that lead to horrible stories. "You had to be there" doesn't even apply, since there's virtually nothing less fun than watching someone press a slot machine over and over. "You had to be exactly me" is much more appropriate. Anyway, I hit a bonus and walk away 45 dollars richer. I bet some sort of facial recognition software took note of it being my first time and decided to give me a win. That's how they get ya. We'll see if I ever return...

Back home and it's more time with the kiddos. I'll be honest, this is my second session writing the same blog and I'm still tired. I slept for over 11 hours last night. I'm slightly disregulated, slightly out of sorts, lightly allergic, and likely dehydrated. I want to show up for the kids, for the blog, for my sister and brother in law, so I'm going to leave the blog here. 

We play Minecraft for a bit, watch some tv, then call it a night.