take me to the nearest putt-putt

25 Jul

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My husband loves golf.

I would say something like, “My husband’s that guy you see staring in a reflective glass outside of a store window, looking at himself and practicing his swing” but I’d actually never seen someone do that before I met him so I don’t know if a “he’s that guy…” actually applies.

We spent this past weekend out of town and spent a couple of hours at the driving range.  It is not that I’ve never picked up a club before (wait, it is called a club isn’t it?…) and, in fact, I’ve actually taken a lesson.  I’m just not an actual golfer.  I’m not going on an actual course.  I don’t have my own equipment.  However, I would LOVE to just put on a visor and pleated skirt/shorts and hop on a golf cart.  Is that too much to ask??

I digress.

The thing about golf is that it is so HARD.  It is beyond a cliche to call golf boring and I still do – in jest – (don’t tell him)- but it is actually a super fascinating and HARD sport.

I’m not a particularly athletic person, as anyone within a 75 mile radius can tell you; however, I can be a sore loser, which is no fun when you’re “playing against yourself” as you do if you’re at a driving range.  Your mind is saying just HIT the freakin’ thing and when you do you are on a total high.  When you don’t, well, it is enough to make little ol’ me curse under my breath and try to break a club in half.  I mean…I get a little tiny bit frustrated.

First you have to watch your arm and the way you hold the club then where your weight is and then the angle the club comes back and then stick your butt out and ooh don’t go to stand up before you hit the ball or else oh and ooph and eek and…

Let’s just say, the driving range is no place for an (im)perfectionist like me.

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